Stave Magazine: Feature

The Money Don't Come Easy
Tales from 9 to 5

There's no financial security in the music business. Even the big 'uns file for bankruptcy. But here at Stave, the community of musicians fall squarely in the working class. That is to say that most are practical enough to keep the day job. There are those who eek it out without a 9 to 5 alter ego, but it is extremely rare. Some go “full time,” but more keep grinding up the mill for a living and to fuel the dream. I did that full time gig for about 3 years. It was not fun. All I worried about was making the mortgage and preserving my credit rating. I had to break every day into its least common denominator. In other words, how many CDs did I have to sell a day to keep on moving down the road? Never mind paying the bills! And I couldn't even imagine having enough money to produce more than the CD I was out promoting. At some depressing epiphany, on the front porch of the Bear Creek Cabin, I went back to the working world as a part-time hospice volunteer coordinator. Today, music is a hobby. I don't make a nickel on Stave. I spend a few dollars... I play music for joy and a little fun money, and what I produce in the studio falls into the “tax write-off” part of my profits and loss statement. I am a full time hospice manager. This seems to work for me, and my mission to keep supporting independent music. So that's me, but I wanted to know what other musicians were doing during the day. I put out the call, and here are a few stories from down in Texas, and one up in Alaska.

Matt Harlan



Matt is a songwriter in the truest sense of the word. His careworn voice delivers the kind of story in song that is quintessential to all great Texas songwriters. You just sit back, have a drink and let him weave his magic. To look at him, your daddy might grunt and say, “hippie.” Look again, Matt is an Environmental Health and Safety Consultant for Oil & Gas companies. Here's what he writes:

“I got the job thru music having zero experience in the oil and gas industry. When I left my last job to do some first hand investigation of what is needed to make a career in music I learned a lot and went broke in the process. While I was wondering what I would do to make ends meet a friend paid for me to lay down a demo at a studio outside Houston. The studio was great and I had a cool demo. Once the studio owner's wife heard the songs (she's a big music fan) she asked about me. Turns out they needed someone to do some work at the company she owns. Wanting to help me out, she offered me a job. Me, not wanting to be broke, I took it, although I was a little weirded out about the work...I left a corporate job b/c I didn't like the atmosphere, and I didn't want to get into something that clashed with my ideals again. But when I found out I'd be on the "good" side of the industry, helping folks comply with regulations to protect the people and the environment, I was on board. After learning the ropes I ended up leading a major project documenting air emissions for platforms in the gulf of Mexico, and the bonus from that work paid for my debut studio album. The CD was produced by Rich Brotherton and has gone on to win an award from Billboard, a nomination for Album of the Year at the TX Music Awards, a #1 spot on the Euro-Americana charts (top 100 on U.S. charts) and gotten me where I'm only working part-time at work so that I can keep gigging and getting more exposure.”

Mike Parrish

Mike is a distinguished Texas Peace Officer having risen to the rank of Chief of Police two times, in two separate Texas towns, and elected Constable once. A reunion with a childhood musician friend, Sammy Hundley rekindled the fire that still smoldered within the dream and within their hearts, the dream of making music.

In June of 2006, in a beach cabin on the Gulf of Mexico, Mike & Sammy recorded the first demo, “Runnin’ Outa Time” for Mike’s solo album, an album that would later be titled “Texas in the Man.” This demo was Mike’s first choice because it spoke of the old railroad track that they’d often walked as boys and, since they were both now in their early forties, the title seemed so symbolic. While standing on that shore, Mike told Sammy that the time was now to record the album and fulfill a dream or their story would never be told. And they got busy. The album was released in September 2007 and by January 2008, Mike was able to take a year off from his law enforcement career and focus entirely on a life of making music.

That year was one of the most magical eras of his life. The personal connection he was able to make with an ever-growing fanbase, simply amazed him. And he'd never get used to the idea that he was playing his own original music to crowds who applauded and that, coupled with the fact that he was paid to be there, just seemed to good to be true.

When 2008 was over it was time to face the music, so to speak. Mike's music had afforded him the opportunity to scratch out a living but, for the most part, he was just getting by and living from gig to gig. Social website popularity seemed to be soaring, with over 48,000 friends on MySpace alone, but a common sense dictated that a great web presence doesn't always pay the bills. By February of 2009 Mike was back on the job, appointed to the position of Chief of Police for the third time in his law enforcement career, in a small Southeast Texas town. The council agreed to allow Mike to continue his pursuit of making music while simultaneously going about the tasks of chief administrator for the department.

By December 2009, the first 9 singles had made the European Country Music Association National Top 40 Charts a total of 24 times in 10 countries and while this was going on Mike was working on a brand new album. Mike was often quoted as saying with a smile, "Hell, I never know whether to bring a gun or a guitar to work . . . sometimes it's better to just bring both, depending on the gig."

In 2010, the Parrish-Hundley Band was a Texas Music Award Nominee for Live Band of the Year. While attending the award ceremony, Mike recalled fielding phone calls from his officers concerning a stolen vehicle during the time that Michael Martin Murphy was opening the show. That particular situation ended just about the time the Captain Legendary Band was announced as the winner of the Live Band of the Year award. Mike and Sammy were disappointed, of course, that they didn't win the award but congratulated CLB and were honored simply because they had been nominated. And there were several other situations warranting Mike's attention throughout the day and even during the after party show but, in his opinion, it's all just part of the job.

When many entertainers were preparing for their next show, Mike was back on the job the following week juggling thefts, assaults and burglaries while preparing for a Memorial Day weekend show at Honky Tonk Texas in Hardin County. That show came and went and, just as before, it was back to the beat.

"It's hectic to juggle a law enforcement career with a music career but really it just comes down to this. I could make a meager living playing acoustic shows and band gigs until I got lucky enough to rely soley upon music for a great living, should that day ever come. But living from gig to gig can severely hamper your ability to continue to record and release new music if your music only gets you from gig to gig." Mike continued, "It's no secret that the music industry is a tremendously expensive business to be involved with but the rewards will keep you coming back and back and back. I love writing, recording and performing my original tunes and law enforcement, along with gigging, affords me the awesome opportunity to be able to do those things."

"Don't get me wrong now," Mike explained, "if my music ever causes a change in my financial situation that would allow me the opportunity to retire from law enforcement forever I'd gladly make room for the next generation to come on in and take my place. Twenty years of policing is probably enough for anybody and probably far more than enough for most. Regardless of what some may say about police officers there's a lot of positive things to be said about those men and women who strap on a badge, a gun and a bulletproof vest to carve out a living for their families. There's a lot to good things that should be said concerning the sacrifices and losses made by those officers and their families who make the world a safer place for all of us."

Mike Parrish is still investigating cases and serving warrants being the good guy in the white hat (actually black) by day and a Texas Music Outlaw by night. The two lifelong friends continue playing acoustic duo shows all over the greater Houston area under the moniker of “Sammy & Mike” and full band shows are billed as “Parrish-Hundley.”

Scott Stahlecker

Scott Stahlecker is a multi-talented guy. Not only is he a musician, but an amazing photographer and writer. One of his “day jobs” is helping his wife run a music store in Alaska, among other things. Scott is a multi-instrumentalist, but he stands out to me as one crack uke player.  He wrote this:

“I'm really busy working a cabinet/furniture business with my son, Gena's working the music store, but I still float in about twice a week to set up sound equipment and deliver stages to local venues. On top of that me and the band are trying to get in a few nights of practice. Crazy but fun.”

Westbound

Here's an emerging duo out of Houston who are still working pretty heavy day jobs while producing their first CD. Currently Westbound plays Houston, Austin and in between while John Stoll works at NASA and Rebecca Ferguson works at Chevron in downtown Houston. They're good examples of why it's never too late to follow your path. Day jobs are necessary, but they're no reason not to try because no one ever said the music life was easy.

Advice from Seasoned Texas Songwriters

The Texas Music Awards mean different things to different people, but I would say that any young player  who is nominated is thinking that the event is about him/her.  And it is.  After all, fans and peers have nominated them for an award, but I think a hidden opportunity lies in such an event.  There are seasoned performers and industry pros peppered throughout the population.  The TMAs  give the “little guy” a chance to be recognized.  You won’t see Austin monsters on the list of nominees.  No Bob Schneider or Patrice Pike.  There will be a few Austin songwrtiers there who spend more career time busking up a dime at New World Deli than selling out Antone’s.  And they are really good at what they do.  They just don’t have the “sex appeal” of the aforementioned.  It’s these humble songwriters (and not all are from Austin) who may offer the greatest “take away” for those young guns sporting a nomination. 

The day of the awards show I entered the green room and pulled a chair up to join a group of guys who enjoy the best kind of success; a long career.  I shared a drink with Steve Brooks, Danny Santos, Kent Finlay (songwriter and owner of iconic songwriting burg, Cheatham Street Warehouse in San Marcos, Texas), and John Arthur Martinez.  Since I knew pre-show youthful excitement would keep the idea from ever entering any serious young musician’s head, I started asking the kind of questions novice songwriters think about but often won’t ask of a longtime pro.

I started with Brooks.   I asked him to think of what he would say to a young writer if he could only say one thing.  He sat thoughtfully, nodded to himself and smiled, “Ernest Hemmingway said this and I think it applies to songwriting, too:  Don’t be afraid to murder your little darlings.”



I could stop the article right here, as Brooks is known for knowing exactly what to say to concisely bring home a monumental theme.  However, Steve didn’t stop there either.  He went on to explain that a good songwriter has to be ruthless about throwing out the mediocre lines.  A writer has to keep brainstorming and be his own worst critic.  And it’s a good idea to play lots of different covers in lots of different genres in order to stretch one’s own playing, as well as help open up to new possibilities.  Brooks didn’t mean to scare anyone away from lyrics for fear of mediocrity.  He said that everyone writes tepid songs, and that’s o.k.  What’s not o.k. is to perform those songs.  If  it’s mediocre and it gets performed, then the artist is selling himself as mediocre.  He wrapped up his best advice by encouraging people to co-write.  That, too, will open the artist up to new ideas.

At this point, Danny Santos pitched in and said that Steve Brooks was his favorite person to co-write with.  Santos said that Brooks listens, and that is extremely important in a successful co-writing relationship.  At this point, I turned my attention to Santos for a few minutes to ask him about something he was successful with; touring in Europe.  Santos said that European audiences were inspiring and invigorating because they had a deep appreciation for his craft unlike what he experiences in the U.S.  He said, “Great artistry isn’t overlooked like it is here.  It’s good for you.”  He went onto say going to Europe was a good cultural exchange because it gave him the opportunity to represent the U.S. in a positive way; especially during the Bush years.  He said the attitude towards Americans was not good, so he felt compelled to represent our country in a good way.  Brooks jumped in and added that touring in neighboring states can be brutal for a Texas songwriter.  I asked why, and Santos answered that it is the perception of Texans’ braggodocious ways.

               
         Danny Santos                              Kent Finlay

Where Texas pride works in Texas, it turns off other Americans.  I wrote a bit about this in the May issue of Stave, and it really is a challenge for Texas artists, so even though cocky works at home, it would serve anyone planning to tour outside of  Texas to craft and cultivate humility and let Texas charm win them over instead of Texas cockiness.

Texas certainly has its many songwriters and musicians to be proud of because they are loved worldwide, but  one who guides many well known and simply regional artists is Townes Van Zant.  Santos said he planted himself at Van Zant’s feet to learn the nuance of the craft.

This seemed like a good time to turn to a man who has witnessed the blossoming of some great careers -  Kent Finlay.  He’s hosted songwriter nights since the 1970’s and he’s helped launch the careers of numerous successful Texas musicians, as well as being a songwriter himself.  So I asked him what the kiss of death was for an aspiring artist.  Surely he’d seen many promising musicians flush their careers because of stupid decisions.  He responded, “Doing it for the money instead of the music.  No one ever made it with the money.”  Then he added, a little tongue-in-cheek, “Love, drugs and alcohol.”

Everyone agreed that when you have love problems you can write great songs, but when you’re in love, you have better things to do than write.  And just to keep it serious, they added that complacency writes no great songs.  At this point, John Arthur Martinez told me that Kent told him years ago that he was best when he wrote songs about things he knew about.


                     John Arthur Martinez

Then it was time to file into the auditorium for the awards program.  BJ Thomas was the host, and he  told many anecdotal stories about his career.  His most profound thought was this:  “Maybe this is what we’re looking for.  Just ‘thank you.’  Because maybe we never got it before we started doing this.”