Generating Too Much WindI certainly have been, haven't I?
Just wanted to pop in and mention that I've joined up—or rather, my musical alter ego Jaytee has—with Last.fm, an innovative venture dedicated to bringing music to you via the internet and online radio.
This service PAYS ROYALTIES to artists who sign up. No need to join ASCAP or have a record deal! This is how it should be. The program is just getting started, so if you are so inclined to purchase any MP3s of their artists, hold off for a week or so until the program gets going because the royalties are not retrograde (meaning if you bought one of my tunes today, I wouldn't get my 0.000005 cents for it).
The artists are independent as well as signed well-known. It's a great idea. I'm excited about it.
I know I once said there was no reason I couldn't pursue both my PNH dream and my music dream, but... I've been having second thoughts. While I love horses and PNH, I'm not sure I have the built-in natural abilities to do that like I do with music. Music to me is as easy as breathing; communicating with horses is something I've had to learn how to do. I do it pretty well, but it's not instinctual like music is.
One night not long ago, I had an epiphany. If you were to strip away everything I own, everything I've accomplished, and all my identifying features (like the clothes I wear, my nosering, etc), what would be left? What one thing did I bring into this life with me that will leave with me?
My musical ability. NOBODY can repossess that, charge late fees on it, steal it and use it for themselves (my voice, that is, or the songs floating around inside my head that y'all haven't heard yet), or hide it from me. If I'm standing in the street naked without one single possession to my name and without a bank account, I will STILL have my voice and my music. I am still well able to hear the music in my head, write it, sing it. If you hand me a guitar, I can play for you. If I lost all my recording gear and the recordings I've made, I'd still have most of the songs and snippets in my head.
When I realized this, I realized who I truly am. Why I keep running from it, I don't know. But I have. I run towards music, then I back away out of fear and go after a lesser dream.
Well, EFF IT. I don't care if I'm almost 45 years old and there's a perception of an age barrier in the commercial music industry—sheet, there was a gender barrier 20 years ago when I started out—it's gone now, thanks to Stevie and Ann & Nancy and Pat and all the other females who kicked it down. Why the heck can't an equally-stupid perception about age versus the ability to rock be kicked down, also? Stevie is 60 years old and she had fans so eager to hear her that they sat shivering in a torrential downpour for almost three hours to hear her.
It's not about the age or the gender or the weight—it's about the MUSIC. Good music is good music, no matter who writes or performs it. I'm on my way.
And this time, I MEAN IT.