AriKoinuma.com

Recently I made a conscious decision that I needed to make my own artistry my top priority.

As I’ve been working on producing and film scoring gigs these last few months, and networking in my relatively new home town of Minneapolis/St. Paul, I always presented myself as a producer/composer. But my own music was kicking and screaming inside, “no, I’m more important than this!”

The truth is that my first and foremost love is to play my electric guitar and write/play my songs.  That’s what got me started on this path.

Now, the challenge is that I am a 30-something musician with wife and kids.  And just so you don’t get the wrong idea, I love my family and I am committed to being a good husband/father.  The other day I had a long day in which I left before they got up and came home after they went to bed — and I missed them.  Just after one day.  My kids are 5 and 2, so they are constantly changing.  I am glad I see and am in touch with them as they grow.

So far I  haven’t been able to make peace with a stable family life and the un-family-friendly nature of being a rock musician.  Part of the reason why I have never gone whole-heartedly after my own artistry is that I thought it would require putting bands together, being gone many nights, bootstrapping for no- to low-paying gigs and touring — stuff uncondusive to “stable” family life. So I let it slide to the side and sought more compatible forms of music career.

But I need to stop taking “no” for an answer.  I am a rock artist and I am a family man.  If the industry or the world tell me those two are incompatible, well, then I simply have to make up a new way to go about it, so I can be those two things at once.

I will continue to be of service to other musicians and filmmakers, but I have my own music I believe in (much of it still only in my head) and I will not stop short of delivering my goods to people around the world who crave the authentic, challenging, introspective and heavy rock that only I can make.

I am not sure how I’m going to do it, but that is not an excuse.  From here on, I’ll never get off this road.

Just a quick note to say I will be starting my own experiment with Jango.com’s Airplay program — a pay-to-play program with decent targeting and analysis features.

I am starting out with $30 for 1,000 airplay level — nice and small for micro-testing.  And I’m going to start out with some basic artist-association targeting.  They offer more specific targeting based on age, gender and location, for two Airplay credits per play instead of one (meaning, I’ll only get 500 plays instead of 1,000) and I’ll experiment with that after trying more general targeting.  I listed about 20 artists to associate my music with — broader than what I consider effective, but I’ll see if there are any surprises among which acts’ fans tend to like my music.

More later!

On Saturday July 25, I got to see Willy Porter & Toad the Wet Sprocket at Cabooze in Minneapolis.  I went because Toad is one of my all-time favorite bands — I listened and listened to their last 3 albums, Fear, Dulcinea and Coil.  They broke up in 1998, but since then they seem to regroup every year to play a few dates.

I debated with myself whether I wanted to go to this or not, as I am interpreting their action as “cashing in” on their past glory.  A band that called it quits 11 years ago is, I hate to say it, is a “has been” act.  The only reason for them to reunite and play shows is because the incentive is there — either money or re-living of their old glory thanks to their VERY loyal fan base.  I realize I’m being harsh here, I am not saying I won’t do what they are doing if I were in their shoes — but let’s just say it’s safe to assume that their shows are not driven by artistic motiviations.

Anyway, Willy Porter was up first — and boy, was I ever glad that i went early enough to catch him.  He walked on stage by himself, with a pristine looking Guild acoustic in his hand — and proceeded to start tapping on the strings like a madman.  At this point, I thought “oh, he’s one of those instrumental acoustic virtuoso” like Michael Hedges.  But then, he started to sing.  While tapping on his guitar like a madman. And not just afterthought vocal lines, either.  The songs really were all top notch compositions.

Wow.

The man completely re-defined my notion of what was possible to play and sing at the same time.  His percussive acoustic riffing were literally like he produced a whole band with just a single guitar — it really sounded like the music didn’t need anything else.  His songs were humorous, his vocal range impressive, and his pacing superb.  This is a man clearly seasoned by many years on the road.

I’m sure he has absolutely no need for a producer in studio — he just strikes me as a man who’s very, very smart — but if I were to make a suggestion, I thought that his tapping and banging wizardry was so impressive that when he went into more traditional fingerpicking, it just seemed so mundane in comparison.  He did that very well, too, mind you.  Oh, and I almost forgot to mention his completely improvised song — he had an audience call out some lyrical themes — that sounded totally like a well-thought out song.  Perhaps he has some formats or melody lines he reuse for these, but still, it was impressive.

I’d have to count Willy among one of the most talented musicians I’ve ever seen.  He just had everything, all in his self.

After that, I thought there was no chance that Toad could follow up and top Willy, and I was right.  It was very generous of Toad to let a man who was singularly more talented than all four of them combined open for him.

Toad opened the show with “Something’s Always Wrong” which was slow and uninspired.  I noticed that while Glen (vocalist and the chief songwriter, who’s been pursuing solo since the breakup) was in fine shape both physically and vocally, but Todd (guitarist) and Dean (bass/bgv) were very overweight, making them totally look like middle-aged men reliving the good ol’ days.  And Randy (drums) — what happened to him?  His hair seemed totally gray and he appeared so frail, I was worried that he wouldn’t be able to hit his drums hard.

However, as they got into their set, Toad seemed to ascertain its footings — and things began to gel.  The set included many songs from Dulcinea (though “Fly from Heaven” was conspicuously missing), and most of them translated very well.  It helped, I’m sure, that the place was packed, mostly by 30-something yuppies, who were all too happy to see their college favorite return.  The band was very gracious and played most of their hits.

I never realized what a good bass player Dean was.  I already knew his soaring backing vocals were a force to reckon with, but he seamlessly alternated between  finger-picking to flat-picking and was always locked in with Randy.  And Randy did just fine, too — I needn’t have worried.  There were a few false starts and such, but they came from Glen mainly.

Which brings me to my next point.  Glen sang well and were appreciative of his audience throughout, but I couldn’t help notice his grave facial expression that crept up here and there, particularly when Todd was taking a solo.  No, I don’t think Glen was jealous of Todd or anything — but it really looked to me like he wasn’t having fun.  He wasn’t without smiles, he wasn’t inattentive to his crowd, and the band played well all in all — but it was more a professional affair than a joyful one.

Speaking from experience, there usually is much appreciation on the part of artists when people gather to see them play.  It was there, too, that night, but for Toad it seemed to have come from a bit shallower place.

This is pure speculation, but I can’t help but imagine that for Glen — a man who’s been struggling with a meandering solo career since the breakup — this is a bittersweet experience, to see people gather to hear him play with his old band, who’s long been “done” creatively.  And this is further speculation — but judging by the fact that the rest of the band continues to collaborate with each other on and off among themselves, I suspect it was Glen who found the band setting confining to his artistic growth.  (I recall reading Todd saying something to the effect that it was Glen who vetoed the band getting back together full time)

All of this, of course, is none of my business, but as a fan of the band, I felt a bit unfulfilled by their professional, dutiful performance.  Perhaps I’m reading a bit too far because my pre-conceived notion of where they are with their careers.

They did have one extra member, John Hawthorn, who played lap steel and mandolin mainly.  Unfortunately, his contributions were much buried in the mix and I really couldn’t hear what he was adding, except for sporadic solos here and there.

Anyway, I was still glad I went, as it was a great reminder of what great their songs were.   They don’t sound dated at all.  And it was cool that they were experimenting a bit by having one additional player with them.  They played well and were attentive to their crowd.

But I came away feeling that their performance was missing one key ingredient — heart.  Will I go again if they come my way?

I’m really not sure.

People focus too much on effectiveness, and while that’s not wrong, effectiveness can be tweaked, improved and sharpened over time.

The true secret to a successful strategy is to make it sustainable.

This applies to everyone but particularly true for musicians.  We get into this because we like music — playing it, making it, recording it, etc.  But with it comes the rest of “business” — promoting, schmoozing, booking, tweeting, and so on.

There are many how-to info out there that claim to make you successful.  But the problem is, they don’t take who you are into account.

Back when I released my first album, I promoted it heavily on MySpace, because Your Favorite Enemies was very successful with that approach.

9 months later, I got so burned out that I just couldn’t go on.  I did many things right as far as I could tell, and my fan base was growing — if slowly (YFE has 7 members, I was by myself) — but getting burned out and not logging in for a long time just burned down most of what I built during that time.

Definitely not a successful strategy.

Derek Sivers says it well when he says “Do what excites/scares you.  Don’t do what drains you.”

I’m still trying to figure out what a successful strategy for me is.  But one lesson I learned: it better be sustainable.   If it’s even half way effective, if I can sustain it, it’ll build.

So, don’t blindly accept other people’s success methods without taking compatibility with yourself into account.  If you hate parties, don’t attend them.  If you hate going online, stay offline.  If you like drawing, incorporate that.  If you like biking, incorporate that.

Make up a career strategy stuff full of activities that excite you, and boldly ignore the rest of good advices.

So that you can sustain it.

I’m mostly finished writing the sound track for America’s Next Felon.  All that remains is just fleshing out the sketches, mix ‘em and master ‘em.

The end is near — but this stage always takes surprisingly long. Like this week I spent over 2 hours polishing up drum sequencing to one heavy metal track that’s about 1.5 minutes long. It’s still not great, really, but it’ll have to do — with film music, I focus on the task at hand, which is to create an aural backdrop to what’s going on the screen. The music is not the focus — as long as it’s polished enough not to be distracting, it’s fine. But it’s one thing to sketch out music, it’s quite another to make it sound solid and “finished!”

Still, I enjoy this part of the process. It’s fun to see the ideas turning into realized pieces of music. A recording is a process where it just doesn’t sound good until the very end — until then, what I’m hearing is what the music can be, not what it is.

I’m slugging away at it. It will end.

Most artists go and record an album because they thing it’s “the thing to do.” While I don’t disagree that it’s a thing to do in your pursuit of a career as an original artist, but it’s a good idea to pause for a moment and ask yourself “why.”

There are many good reasons why you should record an album, but off the top of my head, I can think of three big ones:

1. You want to sell it to make a profit.
2. You want to use it as a promotional tool to get as many people as possible to know your act or come to your gig.
3. You want to showcase your talent/songs.

Now, they are not exactly mutually exclusive, let’s just say that it’s extremely hard to do all of them extremely well at the same time.

Consider for a moment.  If your goal is to make a maximum profit, you may want to reserve some money to promote the album instead of spending it all on production.  In fact, you may want to spend as little as possible on the production as you can get away with, so that it’ll increase your profitability.

On the other hand, if your goal is #2, you may want to forget about profits — and give away your recordings for free.  That way it’ll make the maximum impact on your promotions, and your visibility may help you move forward.

Or if you want to make an album as a showcase, then you’ll want to put everything you got into your production, and never mind what happens afterward.  Having a great showcase of your talents can be your greatest asset — it may woo and impress the important people, if not that many of them, that you’ll want to attract.

I’m sure for most of us, our goals are varying mixes of three.  When I made my first album, my goal was to see if I can do it by myself.  I did everything on my own, and I never let anyone else listen to my work in progress until the very final stages of mixing.  My experiment was to see if I made a record that appealed to nothing but my own taste, if people would like it.   Judging by the responses I got from my listeners, I think my experiment was a success.

But beyond that, I didn’t have very clear idea how I was going to use my album to further my career.  I spent about 9 months on a diligent MySpace campaign, then got burned out doing that, and took a break from my own music.  As I am pondering resuming and thinking about my next album, I realize how my lack of vision/strategy really made me spend my time and resources in an inefficient way.  Lesson learned, I hope to make a bigger impact when I release my next one.

What about you?  What are you setting out to accomplish with your album?  Ponder for a moment and write them down — it’ll help you make decisions throughout your recording, releasing and promoting process.

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I’m a firm believer in Kevin Kelly’s theory on 1000 true fans.  But while that seems totally attainable, even 1000 can seem like an overwhelming number when you’re getting started.

Just as a marathon starts from the first step, it helps to think small, especially at the beginning, which is the hardest.  Let’s say 100.  Do you have 100 true fans?  It’s OK if you don’t.  (I don’t, myself)

How about the first 10? 20?  Just shrink your view to the point where you can confidently go “yes, I have them.”  It’ll give you a positive energy to focus on what you have, instead of what you don’t.  That’s a good starting point.

Then from there, you can set the next goal, whatever is the reasonable, attainable number above where you are.  I’m going to pick 100 for myself. I’m not going to worry about dominating the world.  I’m not going to worry about making a living.  I’m not even going to worry about making a profit.

I’m going to focus on building a group of 100 people who believe in my music.

It’s still a tricky proposition.  It’d be much easier if I said 100 people who believe in me.  I have a long history of great relationships where people like and appreciate what I do — and they recognize goodness in what I have to offer.  However, my music is a separate entity from me — or should I say, me as a recording artist — and I haven’t quite figured out how to build relationships through that role/persona.

It’s even trickier because my music is a type where people expect a band, not just a single artist, to be behind the music, and traditionally that type of band builds audience by a lot of gigging and touring, which is a method I am intentionally downplaying as of right now because of the strain it will create to my family life.  It’ll make a bit more sense if I were primarily a folk singer/songwriter or electronica artist, but alas — my love lies deeply in modern progressive rock/metal.

I want to explore a different path, one where a 30-something musician can pursue without straining his family’s relationships or finances.

I released my first album in 2007 and did a modest campaign on MySpace for a year or so, where I got burned out and took a detour to professional blogging for a while.  I do wish if I had read the notion of 1000 fans when I started, but nevertheless, the blame is squarely on my shoulder for promoting myself with unsustainable/ineffective methods and letting myself burn out.

So this time, with my gaze on more attainable goal and much better awareness of both my own muses and the reality of online promotion, I’m setting out to figure out how to win the first 100 true fans as a recording artist.

Here are a few tid bits of wisdom I gained so far:

• Real life connections are 10x stronger than online ones.  That’s why gigging and meeting people face to face is the better method, if you can sustain it.
• You have to be aware of what people want.  It may not be the same thing as what you want to give them.
• Building a fan base is about building a community.  Music is the starting point and the glue.
• Persona/branding is important, and it’s hard to get rid of one if you build it the wrong way.  Don’t muddle your picture by being too many things (note to self. )
• Derek Sivers is my hero.

Yesterday I finished setting up a web site for a local pianist Michelle Glaser.  She and I met at the Meetup.com meeting I host.

A lot of musicians seem to need help with web sites, and I try to help in anyway I can if I’m asked, so  — I’m going to be adding my web-related services here in the near future.

There will be other additions and modifications to my site coming up in the next month or two as well.  I’m going to highlight my guitar playing and my own music, as well as a more thorough profiling of who I am.

In a related news, in late August Happy Songs of Death, the Celtic folk album I produced for Marc Gunn, will be released.  And my work on America’s Next Felon should wrap up around the same time.  And I will also be helping with the web site for Lost in Sunshine, the feature film I’m scheduled to score next year.

Boy, I am busy — but it’s good to be in demand.

Rule #1: the marketing effort must consist primarily of activities that you enjoy doing. OR, have someone else who enjoy it execute it.

Rule #2: Be receptive to the responses from the market. I’m talking about both the industry at large and the people you interact with personally. Constantly adjust what you’re doing by discarding things less effective/enjoyable and keeping those that work or are enjoyable.

Enjoyment is the key, people — otherwise, you’ll burn out. Will you buy something that a burn-out is selling? No.

The key is to make it a sustainable activity first, and then make it effective after that. Not the other way around.

Even the most inefficient marketing campaign will yield results if you do it long enough, with loving tender care.

Yow, over a week went by quickly since the last entry.  I’ve been hard at work on the sound track for America’s Next Felon (ANF).

The truth be told, sound track work is always very stressful to me, at least some of the phases in the process.  It’s always nerve wracking before the 1st meeting with the director to show my first sketches.  And it stays stressful after that, as inevitably I hit the right tone on some cues and not on other cues.  There’s always a nagging voice in my head going “what if I can’t get it right? what if I can’t hit it after 20 more tries?”

But I always do hit it on the mark sooner or later.   The 1st phase is always like choosing the color palette for a painting.  There are millions of colors to choose from so the choices are rather overwhelming.

The next phase is more fun, though it can be stressful in a not-so-bad way.  Once the palette is put together, I usually experience a great increase in my productivity — I can just nail cue after cue without struggling.  It’s because most of the themes and motifs are written at this point, I know the range of instruments/sounds that work for the project, and it’s now just the matter of pulling in the right pieces, arranging them to fit a particular spot.

A film doesn’t usually have myriads of moods and pacings.  They all have a limited range — a thriller will be suspenceful, a comedy will be light-hearted most of the time.  So once all the material is prepared, fitting them into all the places aren’t as hard.

To illustrate, get this: ANF is a spoof on reality TV and there are 6 “episodes” within.  I spent the first 6 days composing the first episode.  Then in the next 4 days, I scored one episode each.  See?

I hit the stride on this project, and now I’m having fun.  This is the reason why I love making music for films.