Chasing big gigs and high-profile projects has its appeal, but developing an individual style is the real key to creative musical success.
Every musician must answer one question, which may very well define the course of their career and life. Where do your chief motivations for creating music lie? This question does not concern whether one will endeavor to make money from music, but it asks what one’s intentions are. For those who focus on money, music simply becomes a means to an end, like a used car to a used car salesperson. But for those motivated by music, creativity is paramount. Regardless of which way one decides, all careers must and will be some combination of these two extremes. This is certainly true of mine.
I’ve been playing so long that I can’t remember life before. I became a musician because I loved music. I’ve also always had an interest in production. My first recordings began at 7 via a guitar and dubbing cassette deck, which allowed me to build songs one overdub at a time. Three years later, I added a bass, keyboard, drum machine, and 4-track recorder. Within 10 years, I’d accumulated my own 24-track studio, which lived in my bedroom. With each new addition came lessons and learning curves. The various skills I’d acquired along the way meant that, in addition to being a bassist, I could also work as a producer and recording engineer, which was how I made a living early on.
Years later, my career as a somewhat successful music producer came to an abrupt halt. The cause? A sudden global economic downturn, brought on by greedy unscrupulous robber-baron types who had traded astounding numbers of questionable “financial instruments” that nobody understood. The domino effect? The Great Recession, which erased billions in wealth, seemingly overnight.
“Which aspects of your music or artistry are unique?”
Everything from retirement funds to the music industry was deeply affected. Label presidents, A&R staff, marketing and accounts departments, artists, recording studios, and, in many cases, the labels themselves took a big hit. One day, I was a producer with inside connections to a handful of powerful record executives. The next, I was in my kitchen staring at six major-label contracts no longer worth the paper they were printed on.
Sure, the financial shock was severe, but, in retrospect, I realized that I’d been journeying down the wrong path, questioning my place in this industry, for quite a while. My focus had shifted from trying to be musically creative to trying to provide the client with whatever they believed was a hit. If you ever want an artist to become distracted, give them lots of money quickly. I was perhaps at my most distracted ever, but the recession gave me a chance to step back, focus, and recall the choice I’d made as a teen.
I got back to practicing for the first time in a very long time, realizing that I rather enjoyed it. I remembered that I could make a pretty decent living by just playing bass. The various gigs I played during this period, while the economy was in free fall, literally saved my bacon. But most of all I realized that, though I could do a lot of things well enough to make a decent living, I needed to focus on doing my best work—those things that only I could do in my own unique way. This is something that could be applied to any discipline, but nowhere is it truer than music.
Which aspects of your music or artistry are unique? What can you do to make what you create a true expression of you? For me, the real change was to focus on composing more, producing more projects that drew upon the more unique aspects of my skill set, playing more gigs which did the same, teaching this, and even creating a music program that was based on my own concept and curriculum.
Focusing on money alone will often lead one to seek out the shortest path to making lots of it quickly. Just as in other industries, in the music business this leads to everybody trying to do the same thing. Nobody wants to see Bono be Sting, or Justin Timberlake be James Brown. One can never out-Coltrane Coltrane, or even out-Wooten Victor Wooten. Doing what has already been made popular may seem like the quickest route to success, but this is an illusion.
By focusing on what we have to offer over what everybody else is already doing, we create more unique content, our own intellectual property, and a more identifiable sound within a vast ocean where most are trying to write the same hit song over and over. In the end, a more individual and creative approach could make what we do more valuable, and our careers more secure … until the next inevitable speed bump arises.
It includes an F-bomb or two, but the screen legend's speech to college graduates highlights the inevitability of rejection and how you've got to keep working.
"Time goes on. So whatever you're going to do, do it. Do it now. Don't wait." —Robert De Niro
Here's a true music industry story that's stuck with me for 15 years. I'm keeping this anonymous because the story involves some transgressions by formerly powerful people, and although I like the idea of karma in action, I'm no snitch. As a rule, I avoid saying negative things about anybody, whether it's deserved or not.
A friend of mine was on tour with a newly successful artist on Sony who had a big hit on her first record. Although the gig had the potential of being very lucrative and prestigious, during this infancy, the pay was low, and the day-to-day tour life was devoid of the amenities that one might expect on a major tour. When the band was shorted on per diem, they agreed the bandleader should meet with management to try and fix the oversight and mend a few other issues. After a few unreturned phone calls, eventually management met with the band leader, who told management about the missing money. He started to mention some other issues when the management stopped him mid-sentence and said:
"Next!"
"I'm sorry … what do you mean?"
"I mean next. You musicians are interchangeable. There are a ton of players who want this job as is. We don't need a bunch of crybabies on the payroll, so … next."
My friend was quickly replaced, another player quit, and the rest of the band stayed on until the gig lost its momentum and eventually whimpered to a stop a few years later when the artist was dropped.
I don't want to be the person who takes delight in others' misfortune, but I guess I am that person because it was satisfying to watch that artist fade into anonymity. She had it coming, so yes, I do smile a bit when thinking about it. Today, as I type this, I wonder whatever happened to that manager, who I used to see behind the velvet rope at every industry event. It's occurred to me that I've not seen him for more than a decade because this former titan of industry is no longer relevant. I'm petty enough to enjoy his comeuppance as well.
No matter what dogma people may preach, I've found that we're not punished for our sins, we are punished by our sins.
I hadn't thought about this in years but was reminded of it last night during some insomnia-fueled reading when I stumbled upon Robert De Niro's 2015 class of New York University's TISCH School of the Arts commencement speech.
"When it comes to the arts, passion should always trump common sense," De Niro tells the graduates. "You aren't just following dreams; you're reaching for your destiny. You're a dancer, a singer, a choreographer, a musician, a filmmaker, a writer, a photographer, a director, a producer, an actor, an artist. Yeah, you're fucked! The good news is that that's not a bad place to start. Now that you've made your choice, or rather, succumbed to it, your path is clear. Not easy but clear. You have to keep working. It's that simple…. Your motto, your mantra, your battle cry, 'Next!' You didn't get that part, that's my point, 'Next'—you'll get the next one, or the next one after that."
But what comes "next" depends on what you do now. Every step is contingent on the steps you've already taken. That artist and manager's "next" didn't include success in the music industry. There are a lot of factors involved in their descent from on high, but I suspect if either one of them treated people well, their "next" would've been different. They may not be successful, but they would at least be liked and people tend to want to work with or help people they like. No matter what dogma people may preach, I've found that we're not punished for our sins, we are punished by our sins. Treat people poorly and they not only won't like to work with you, but they'll also enjoy your failure.
My friend the musical director continued to work hard and be kind to people. Although there were some lean times for him, his "next" included consistent work as a top-tier touring musician, well liked and respected by his peers. He now tries to avoid working for people who treat others badly because he's learned that those gigs may dangle the golden carrot, but they rarely, if ever, fulfill their promise. All you get is a small paycheck and a slow beatdown.
I love De Niro's motto, mantra, battle cry, 'Next!' Being fired, hired, ignored, revered, treated well, or treated poorly, it doesn't matter, you move onto what's next. What's next depends on what you do now. I can't wait to see what's next.John Bohlinger gives his best advice to aspiring musicians. Spoiler: Wear those earplugs!
If you knew the amount of chaos, heartbreak, and frustration in my white-knuckled career, you'd understand my reluctance to advise anyone on being a professional musician. That said, I've been doing this music scam for a long time and, much to my surprise, it's actually worked out pretty well. I make a decent living and have a lot of fun. If you're an aspiring musician, here are a few tips that might help you toward that modest goal.
1. When you play with a new drummer, or a new song, or a weird environment that makes the groove not feel natural, try standing with your foot actually touching the face of the kick-drum head. When you feel every kick with your foot, you can't help but know exactly where the drummer is putting the groove. Warning: This makes some territorial drummers uncomfortable, and it's dangerously loud … which segues nicely to tip #2.
2. Until stem cell magic or an Apple implant can fix hearing damage, it's up to you to protect your ears. Be careful or wind up like that poor dude in Sound of Metal. Two musicians I work with regularly have developed tinnitus so bad that their ears are constantly ringing, so much that they can't sleep and are dealing with depression. To try and avoid this, set your tone without earplugs pre-gig, then put in earplugs and leave them in the entire time. What I actually do is set my tone, put in earplugs until I suspect I have turd tone, then I take out my non-drummer-side plug, tweak on the fly, then plug back up and gig. The problem is, even that short amount of time can do real damage.
I purchased two wildly expensive sets of molded plugs and five different pairs of mildly expensive plugs, but ultimately the cheap foam plugs work best for me. They're comfortable, easy to get in and out, effective, and I always lose the expensive ones. (I can't have nice things.) Every pair of pants I own has used but clean-ish, mismatched plugs in their pockets that have gone through the wash. I not only wear earplugs on gigs, but whenever I'm in a loud environment, like walking down Broadway in Nashville.
"Two musicians I work with regularly have developed tinnitus so bad that their ears are constantly ringing, so much that they can't sleep."
3. More gear will not make you sound better—playing will. Compare Bonamassa on a new Epiphone and a vintage 'burst and they both sound amazing, regardless of the amp.
I'm a hypocrite with many guitars, amps, and piles of pedals. If I played as much as I looked at gear, I'd be a better player, have more money, and maybe be happier. For 2021, I'm not buying anything * in hopes of building a closer relationship with the gear I have. Love is love; you gotta put in the time to get to know your object of affection. (*Disclaimer: If somebody has a bargain, '50s- era Les Paul with PAFs, hit me up and make me break my promise.)
4. Pay attention to your body when you play. I recently noticed that I hold my pick way too tight. That tension jacks with the groove and my body. I used to think Stevie Ray Vaughan was just bludgeoning his guitar with his right hand all the time. Watch his old videos and you'll see he sledgehammers that Strat at times, but for the most part, he is loose, smooth, and effortless. Loosening up that death grip helps mitigate hand cramps, tight shoulders, and neck pain after long gigs.
5. Try learning something new every month. If you're an electric player who always uses a pick, make yourself learn a Tommy Emmanuel arrangement, like "One Mint Julep" from his PG Riff Rundown. If acoustic is your thing, take a course in Angus 101 and learn his "Highway to Hell" solo. Notice his tone (not that dirty). Notice his notes (not that fast). Notice how hard it rocks (nothing rocks harder). If you've never tried slide, check out my PG lessons. It's remarkably easy. Music always has new mysteries if you dig. You dig?
6. Music isn't a competition, but if it were, the person who has the most fun while playing should win. Get comfortable with the fact that we all have limitations, but they're only weaknesses if we let them be. Miles Davis couldn't play as fast as Coltrane, so he went the other way, playing slow, melodic lines surrounded by space. In doing so, he steered jazz away from bebop toward cool. Django had finger injuries that led him to develop a style with long glissandos and a melodic swing that changed guitar music forever. Enjoy the journey as you find your own way.
7. They say the secret to success in the arts is sincerity. If you can fake that, you got it made. I maintain you fake it long enough, and it becomes authentic. We're all making this up as we go.
