Yesterday I was at gathering of musicians and songwriters, a few who I knew, but mostly new faces. At one point, I was on the patio involved in a discussion about the pros and cons of music streaming services. One guy said "Nobody's going to buy an album unless they know they like it. I have to listen to an album all the way through about ten times before that sixth song becomes my favorite, because that's where the meat is."
That's not the first time I've heard someone talk about artists only putting a couple of good songs on a record and rest just being fluff (or filler). I had someone tell me that when I was in the process of putting out "One More Night In Nashville". He said "Everyone knows that around tracks 7 and 8 is where you put the good songs." I told him that I had every intention of putting eleven (better than) good songs (out of eleven) on my record. He said "Nobody does that."
Mind you, these were both performing singer/songwriters who have put out recordings of their own music. Either they: (A) have no faith in their own material, (B) don't mind putting out lackluster recordings, (C) have fallen into a trap of doing things the way they think they've always been done, or (D) all of those.
Granted, I have always been an album cut kind of guy. The seemingly obvious pop hits either eluded me or bored me to tears. Sure, I like the Steppenwolf songs "Born To Be Wild" and "Magic Carpet Ride", but I'd rather listen to "Desperation" or "Your Wall's Too High". The same goes for just about any album of rock or country music that I grew up listening to. I guess I've never been drawn to the least common denominator type of songs. I like to think I'm a more discerning listener than that. Maybe I'm just a closet hipster snob.
It's no wonder that people aren't buying albums. If they think there are only going to be a couple of good songs on a record, and those songs are going to be buried closer to the end of the album, I don't blame them at all. I would feel like I was ripping people off if I only gave them two (or at maximum, three) songs worth listening to.
When I write songs, I try to start with an opening line that will make the listener want to hear the next line...and then the next, and the next. I put my records together the same way. Give the listener a first song that makes not listening to the second song a hard thing to do. Repeat as necessary.
Back when everybody had vinyl albums, a smart producer would make sure that the last song on the first side made the listener want to turn it over and listen to Side 2...and the last song on Side 2 would make the listener want to play the album again. Maybe I'm old-school, or deluded, but I believe that if you produce an album full of top-notch songs, and present them in the proper order, people will listen all the way through...hopefully, more than once.
So, I would prefer you listen to my whole albums, in the order that I put them together, but really you can start anywhere on them, because that's where the meat is.
I hope you find it nourishing.
At The Coop
Showing posts with label music. Show all posts
Showing posts with label music. Show all posts
Tuesday, January 3, 2017
Saturday, January 2, 2016
The Goose That Lays The Golden Age
I don't do a lot of writers' rounds in Nashville any more. When I do, it's usually because somebody has invited me to be a part of one that they are putting together. I very seldom schedule my own.
When I first came to town, I played out all the time. It seemed like a good way to meet other writers, and possibly make industry connections. I have some great friends that I met while playing my songs, or waiting my turn to play my songs. I was living here without my family, and trying to make the most of my time. I went just about anywhere I could in order to share my music with people. I have often joked that if there was a gas station in Antioch with an open mic on a Sunday night, I was there.
I still go out from time to time. I enjoy going to the Douglas Corner Café, where my friend (and hero) Donnie Winters hosts an open mic on Tuesdays. I even put the bartender Rhonda Wey in a song on my "One More Night In Nashville" album. I enjoy the camaraderie there, and the picking on the back deck usually outshines what's going on inside.
Mostly, I just got tired of playing the Nashville writers' nights game. There is almost nowhere in Nashville for a songwriter to do more than two or three songs, and those are usually interspersed with other writers doing their two or three songs. Most writers' nights in Nashville are a way for the venues to get free entertainment, and to make money off of the writers. They usually aren't real particular about the level of talent as long as they have people in the seats spending money. I go out of town and play shows of 2+ hours of all original material. I get paid, respected, and usually fed well by venue owners. I get to show more than the tip of my catalog's iceberg to audiences who are appreciative. It feels pretty good. Then I come back to town to a scene that doesn't support its lifeblood at all. They expect you to be excited to come to their venue and spend money while waiting your turn to perform for no compensation, and often while sitting through performances that aren't worth the time it takes to listen to. I can cook better food at home than what's offered at most music venues. Why should I want to spend $30 or more for my wife and I to have dinner at a place where I am performing for free? I can't remember the last time I was even offered a free soft drink at one of these places, much less anything to eat.
I should mention here that Ri'chard's Café (which is just two hills over from where I live, and only five minutes in the car) in Whites Creek lets me play from 45 minutes to an hour by myself. They don't pay me, but they feed my wife and me, and I usually get some good tips. It's a deal for them, and I'm okay with it. We're scratching each other's backs.
I get approached all the time by folks who want me to come play at their "writers' night at this new place". I mostly make excuses not to say 'yes". I was recently contacted by a friend who was starting a night at an upscale bakery in Bellevue. He was booking some great writers and performers. The menu at the place looked interesting. He said he would check with the owners to see about some consideration, food-and-drink-wise. It turns out that there was none, but I didn't find that out until I got to the venue. I brought two of my friends who are world-class performers. We had an hour. Basically, four songs apiece, but we also played and sang along with each other. We rocked that joint. It was fun. I knew the host was trying build up something good, so I agreed to do it again in February.
I got a message this morning from my friend, the host. It seems that the venue owner wants to "age format" the writers' night, and is demanding that I add at least one "younger" writer to my round. She wants to cut the music back from three hours to two, and have at least one-third "younger" writers. Never mind that the writers who have been performing have written and/or produced huge hits (one of them is in the Thumbpicker's Hall Of Fame), bring crowds that spend money, and can generally be twice as entertaining as many performers half their age.
I'm not knocking younger writers. I know some brilliant ones. Sometimes I'm in rounds with them. They are good because they are good, not because they are young. The notion that younger is better is misguided at best, and I won't be there to witness it when (if) this venue owner realizes the error of her ways. I even told my friend to tell her she could kiss my ass, and I don't generally talk that way. He said that he wouldn't tell her that, I told him to tell her I said it. Some of the writers have said that they don't think it's right, but they will play anyway. That's not me. I wish more people would stand up for the fact that the venue owners need people like us way more than we need people like them.
None of us are getting any younger, but some of us are still getting better.
Happy New Year!
When I first came to town, I played out all the time. It seemed like a good way to meet other writers, and possibly make industry connections. I have some great friends that I met while playing my songs, or waiting my turn to play my songs. I was living here without my family, and trying to make the most of my time. I went just about anywhere I could in order to share my music with people. I have often joked that if there was a gas station in Antioch with an open mic on a Sunday night, I was there.
I still go out from time to time. I enjoy going to the Douglas Corner Café, where my friend (and hero) Donnie Winters hosts an open mic on Tuesdays. I even put the bartender Rhonda Wey in a song on my "One More Night In Nashville" album. I enjoy the camaraderie there, and the picking on the back deck usually outshines what's going on inside.
Mostly, I just got tired of playing the Nashville writers' nights game. There is almost nowhere in Nashville for a songwriter to do more than two or three songs, and those are usually interspersed with other writers doing their two or three songs. Most writers' nights in Nashville are a way for the venues to get free entertainment, and to make money off of the writers. They usually aren't real particular about the level of talent as long as they have people in the seats spending money. I go out of town and play shows of 2+ hours of all original material. I get paid, respected, and usually fed well by venue owners. I get to show more than the tip of my catalog's iceberg to audiences who are appreciative. It feels pretty good. Then I come back to town to a scene that doesn't support its lifeblood at all. They expect you to be excited to come to their venue and spend money while waiting your turn to perform for no compensation, and often while sitting through performances that aren't worth the time it takes to listen to. I can cook better food at home than what's offered at most music venues. Why should I want to spend $30 or more for my wife and I to have dinner at a place where I am performing for free? I can't remember the last time I was even offered a free soft drink at one of these places, much less anything to eat.
I should mention here that Ri'chard's Café (which is just two hills over from where I live, and only five minutes in the car) in Whites Creek lets me play from 45 minutes to an hour by myself. They don't pay me, but they feed my wife and me, and I usually get some good tips. It's a deal for them, and I'm okay with it. We're scratching each other's backs.
I get approached all the time by folks who want me to come play at their "writers' night at this new place". I mostly make excuses not to say 'yes". I was recently contacted by a friend who was starting a night at an upscale bakery in Bellevue. He was booking some great writers and performers. The menu at the place looked interesting. He said he would check with the owners to see about some consideration, food-and-drink-wise. It turns out that there was none, but I didn't find that out until I got to the venue. I brought two of my friends who are world-class performers. We had an hour. Basically, four songs apiece, but we also played and sang along with each other. We rocked that joint. It was fun. I knew the host was trying build up something good, so I agreed to do it again in February.
I got a message this morning from my friend, the host. It seems that the venue owner wants to "age format" the writers' night, and is demanding that I add at least one "younger" writer to my round. She wants to cut the music back from three hours to two, and have at least one-third "younger" writers. Never mind that the writers who have been performing have written and/or produced huge hits (one of them is in the Thumbpicker's Hall Of Fame), bring crowds that spend money, and can generally be twice as entertaining as many performers half their age.
I'm not knocking younger writers. I know some brilliant ones. Sometimes I'm in rounds with them. They are good because they are good, not because they are young. The notion that younger is better is misguided at best, and I won't be there to witness it when (if) this venue owner realizes the error of her ways. I even told my friend to tell her she could kiss my ass, and I don't generally talk that way. He said that he wouldn't tell her that, I told him to tell her I said it. Some of the writers have said that they don't think it's right, but they will play anyway. That's not me. I wish more people would stand up for the fact that the venue owners need people like us way more than we need people like them.
None of us are getting any younger, but some of us are still getting better.
Happy New Year!
Thursday, March 19, 2015
What Other Artists Would You Like To Hear On "Kurt Fortmeyer Radio"?
I had been ragging on iHeart Radio because I felt like they were using my name to get folks to tune in and pad their bottom line. They were only playing one of my songs...and then playing a bunch of unrelated music...on what was purportedly "Kurt Fortmeyer Radio". I felt like it was an underhanded way of doing business...a classic bait & switch...and yet another example of a corporate giant (Clear Channel) abusing independent artists in order to make a buck.
I must have rattled somebody's cage, because yesterday I got an email from one of their content managers. He had seen my post on the Just Plain Folks songwriting community's message board, and decided to look into my complaints. He told me that they were only playing one of my songs..."Hard Times (Call For Hard Liquor)"...because that was the only song they had in their database. I don't know where they got it, but he contacted me through my Bandcamp page, which has that song and three other albums on it, which tells me that they have to know that I have more than one song.
He told me that they'd be happy to include more of my music on the station (since it is supposedly based on my work) and offered to let me send them other albums to be included in their database. Also, to further make my station more representative of my sound, he said he'd love to update and replace the similar artists that currently fill the station. He has asked me to send him a list of 35-40 artists who are better choices as similar artists for "Kurt Fortmeyer Radio", so he can make the necessary changes to better reflect what my fans would want to hear. I have started working on the list. So far, it looks like this...
I must have rattled somebody's cage, because yesterday I got an email from one of their content managers. He had seen my post on the Just Plain Folks songwriting community's message board, and decided to look into my complaints. He told me that they were only playing one of my songs..."Hard Times (Call For Hard Liquor)"...because that was the only song they had in their database. I don't know where they got it, but he contacted me through my Bandcamp page, which has that song and three other albums on it, which tells me that they have to know that I have more than one song.
He told me that they'd be happy to include more of my music on the station (since it is supposedly based on my work) and offered to let me send them other albums to be included in their database. Also, to further make my station more representative of my sound, he said he'd love to update and replace the similar artists that currently fill the station. He has asked me to send him a list of 35-40 artists who are better choices as similar artists for "Kurt Fortmeyer Radio", so he can make the necessary changes to better reflect what my fans would want to hear. I have started working on the list. So far, it looks like this...
Comments and/or suggestions? Is there anybody you would add? Would any of these artists make you tune out the station? Your input is appreciated.
Friday, January 30, 2015
Cliches Don't Start Out That Way
I saw The Rolling Stones perform a rather lackluster concert (set pieces included a giant inflatable penis that apparently suffered from erectile dysfunction) in Greensboro, North Carolina back in either 1974 or 1975. Part of the way through the show, they were playing some song that made me think "What a tired, overused lick. I've heard a thousand guitarists play that exact same thing." Then all of a sudden, it hit me. The guy playing that lick was the guy who created it. All of those other guitar players were copying him. (I know. I know. You blues heads are going to tell me that Keith lifted that lick from So-And-So...and you're probably right, but at the time, that little lightbulb was going off over my head.) It was both cool and a "Duh" moment all at once.
I was reminded of that insight recently when I picked up a copy of "The Maltese Falcon" from the local library. I can't say for certain if I had ever read anything by Dashiell Hammett before, but I know that he is considered a master craftsman, not just of detective novels, but of writing in general. I had barely gotten through the first few paragraphs, when I started thinking "Oh no! All of the worst clichés in detective fiction, all on the first page." Again, I had an "Oh, yeah" moment. The reason the writing seemed to be so full of well-worn prose is that all of the other writers copied his style to the point that it became cliché.
I shared this bit of foolishness with my wife, who confessed to a face-palm moment of her own. We had been in San Antonio, Texas a couple of years ago, and visited the Alamo. I had been there several times about 50 years ago, but she had never seen it. She was walking around, looking at the outside of the building, when her art school training kicked in. "Hmmm. They used Spanish Mission architecture when they built this place." Then it dawned on her why it was called Spanish Mission architecture...because when they built Spanish missions (like the Alamo) that's what they looked like.
We got a good laugh with and at each other over this.
Everything that you come across that seems done-to-death started out as somebody's true inspiration. The source is often way more interesting than its derivatives. Dig for those roots.
Monday, July 7, 2014
Small World Tour: Day 2
SMALL WORLD TOUR...DAY TWO: Sleeping in an antique double bed with a footboard doesn't really work for someone my size. If I'm by myself, I can sleep diagonally, but travelling with my lovely wife makes it hard to get any sleep in a bed like that. Thursday morning arrived groggily and grumpily.
After cinnamon buns and coffee, we finally started getting motivated to head out to our old stomping grounds of Fuquay-Varina. The Guardian Angel Thrift Store was waiting. It's a favorite shopping spot for three generations of my family. My plan was to have Nina drop me off at my buddy Walt Wetherington's guitar store, and then come pick me up when she and my mother were done shopping. Walt wasn't open yet, so I ended up perusing the goods at the thrift store...and spending money. I found a great shirt that I ended up wearing the next day while performing at the Festival For The Eno. I also struck gold digging through their racks of used CDs, which they sell for $1.50 a disc. I bought my mother an a cappella Bluegrass Gospel CD called "Heaven's Joy Awaits" by Doyle Lawson & Quicksilver, who are generally accepted as being among the best vocal bands in Bluegrass music. I also bought myself some music..."Greetings From Asbury Park, N.J." by Bruce Springsteen, and a two-disc set called "Gimme Shelter...The Best Of Leon Russell". Score!
When we finally got out of there, it was early afternoon, and Walt was open. We dropped by, checked out his nice new store, and bought a couple of sets of Elixirs. Then we headed toward the new coffeehouse/Bluegrass and Country Music venue owned by Bluegrass star Lorraine Jordan. I was hoping to catch up with her, give her a couple of my CDs, and book a date to perform there. (She and her band had played at a coffeehouse that my wife and I used to own.) As fate would have it, Hurricane Arthur blew out the power in that part of town a few minutes after we arrived. We headed back to the house to hunker down, try to get some sleep, and prepare for an early (and long) day the next day at the festival. I moved to a bunk bed to try to stretch out a little. Still didn't sleep great.
After cinnamon buns and coffee, we finally started getting motivated to head out to our old stomping grounds of Fuquay-Varina. The Guardian Angel Thrift Store was waiting. It's a favorite shopping spot for three generations of my family. My plan was to have Nina drop me off at my buddy Walt Wetherington's guitar store, and then come pick me up when she and my mother were done shopping. Walt wasn't open yet, so I ended up perusing the goods at the thrift store...and spending money. I found a great shirt that I ended up wearing the next day while performing at the Festival For The Eno. I also struck gold digging through their racks of used CDs, which they sell for $1.50 a disc. I bought my mother an a cappella Bluegrass Gospel CD called "Heaven's Joy Awaits" by Doyle Lawson & Quicksilver, who are generally accepted as being among the best vocal bands in Bluegrass music. I also bought myself some music..."Greetings From Asbury Park, N.J." by Bruce Springsteen, and a two-disc set called "Gimme Shelter...The Best Of Leon Russell". Score!
When we finally got out of there, it was early afternoon, and Walt was open. We dropped by, checked out his nice new store, and bought a couple of sets of Elixirs. Then we headed toward the new coffeehouse/Bluegrass and Country Music venue owned by Bluegrass star Lorraine Jordan. I was hoping to catch up with her, give her a couple of my CDs, and book a date to perform there. (She and her band had played at a coffeehouse that my wife and I used to own.) As fate would have it, Hurricane Arthur blew out the power in that part of town a few minutes after we arrived. We headed back to the house to hunker down, try to get some sleep, and prepare for an early (and long) day the next day at the festival. I moved to a bunk bed to try to stretch out a little. Still didn't sleep great.
Small World Tour: Day 1
SMALL WORLD TOUR...DAY ONE: Wednesday morning we said "hasta la vista" to Sadie dog, the chickens, and the homestead, and left them in the capable hands of our trusty caretaker. We pulled out on the road on the tail end of rush hour and headed east in the Nissan Versa tour bus to the strains of Tom Russell's "The Rose Of The San Joaquin" CD. The weather was beautiful, traffic was light, cruising was easy. One gas stop, three rest areas, and a Bojangle's later, we pulled into Garner, North Carolina, hometown of "American Idol's" Scotty McCreery, and the town where I spent my high school years dreaming about being anywhere else but. Hugged my mama's neck and visited for a little bit.
We left there,and went to gas up again. While I was pumping, a fellow walked up and asked about my license plate.
"Tennessee" I told him.
"Whereabouts?" he asked.
"Nashville."
"Nashville? Do you know a guy named Cal Freeman?"
It turns out I do. Cal played pedal steel for Gatemouth Brown at the same time my friend Joe Sunseri was Gate's sax man. Cal had lived in Garner for a spell. I told this fellow that I had been to Cal's house when he lived locally. The guy says "I was his roommate. I remember you. You had a song about seeing red." I guess he did remember me. Small world.
Then we headed into Raleigh to the Berkeley Cafe, a place I have played a million times. Steve Howell and I were (some of, if not) the first musicians to play there. We had a "do-grass bluo" called The Lonesome Hound Dog Whales that played some original songs at a poetry reading there, prompting then-owner John Blomquist to start up a musician's open mic. The Berkeley has recently been bought and completely renovated by the owner of the recently closed and sadly missed Sadlack's Heroes. (Another place I have played a bunch,) Mike Spence and Rickey Bacchus were at their stations behind the bar. Bill Hickman was serving up his Wednesday Night Taco Special. Open Mic was in full swing. I went out and played a few songs for the hardcores on the back patio while awaiting my turn to perform.
Debbie Baggett and Jennifer Sanders were there. It was almost like Old Home Week(night). I played my allotted three songs "You Done Done It Now", "Inside That Box", and "My Dog Jesus". By popular demand, I played one more...A singalong of "What's Not To Love?". It was kick playing in the Berkeley again after so many years.
After a few more hugs and handshakes, we headed off for some much needed sleep.
We left there,and went to gas up again. While I was pumping, a fellow walked up and asked about my license plate.
"Tennessee" I told him.
"Whereabouts?" he asked.
"Nashville."
"Nashville? Do you know a guy named Cal Freeman?"
It turns out I do. Cal played pedal steel for Gatemouth Brown at the same time my friend Joe Sunseri was Gate's sax man. Cal had lived in Garner for a spell. I told this fellow that I had been to Cal's house when he lived locally. The guy says "I was his roommate. I remember you. You had a song about seeing red." I guess he did remember me. Small world.
Then we headed into Raleigh to the Berkeley Cafe, a place I have played a million times. Steve Howell and I were (some of, if not) the first musicians to play there. We had a "do-grass bluo" called The Lonesome Hound Dog Whales that played some original songs at a poetry reading there, prompting then-owner John Blomquist to start up a musician's open mic. The Berkeley has recently been bought and completely renovated by the owner of the recently closed and sadly missed Sadlack's Heroes. (Another place I have played a bunch,) Mike Spence and Rickey Bacchus were at their stations behind the bar. Bill Hickman was serving up his Wednesday Night Taco Special. Open Mic was in full swing. I went out and played a few songs for the hardcores on the back patio while awaiting my turn to perform.
Debbie Baggett and Jennifer Sanders were there. It was almost like Old Home Week(night). I played my allotted three songs "You Done Done It Now", "Inside That Box", and "My Dog Jesus". By popular demand, I played one more...A singalong of "What's Not To Love?". It was kick playing in the Berkeley again after so many years.
After a few more hugs and handshakes, we headed off for some much needed sleep.
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