Five Song Friday: The Musician's Curse
This Week: Big Kiwis, Creepy Plagiarism and Horn-Infused Contagions
Let’s think about what really happens when you make music for money.
You sit down with your instrument (or your computer, or your group of like-minded musical friends) and you start messing around with sounds and lyrics.
You struggle to find the perfect words that will touch people’s soul or get them to shake their booty. You write and rewrite. You rehearse and compose. You tweak and edit until you feel ready to record.
Then you go into a studio (or open a computer program) and you record.
You do multiple takes and adjust settings and maybe some person sits at an enormous console and fiddles with buttons and knobs (I’m assuming knobs are still a thing).
You might add more cowbell or invite Snoop Dogg to lay down a couple of verses.
At some point, you step back and declare the process complete.
There are high fives and champagne all around.
Congratulations, you’ve created a piece of art called a song.
But wait, there’s more!
This thing you’ve created? It’s no ordinary song. It’s a hit song!
People LOVE it. They love the crap out of it.
It gets played like crazy. Downloaded or streamed a bajillion times. A dump truck full of money shows up at your door. Hooray!
And also? Those people who love it are willing to pay you even more money to perform that song in person. The only catch is that instead of coming to you, you have to go to them and most of them live very far away.
Then you have to go onstage and make your performance sound just like the hit song they love so much but maybe even a little bit… better?
Can you do that? I hope so. Because there are going to be a LOT of people. Many of them will be drunk and/or high. They expect a SHOW.
It might help if you could do a little dance. Bring some fancy lights and backup dancers. They would also appreciate some between-the-songs banter to show that you aren’t a robot or an impostor.
Suggestion: “How are we feeling [insert city]? Ready to have some FUN?!”
Suggestion: Don’t actually say the phrase “insert city” by accident.
I know it sounds like a lot, but remember, there will be SO much money.
The good news is that you won’t have to drive yourself or carry your own equipment, but you will be all alone onstage and people will be watching every single thing you do and listening to every word you say. Huge video screens will be on hand to magnify any flaws and amplify all fearful or nervous expressions.
No pressure.
And here’s the thing I find hilarious: if you want all this to keep happening (i.e. money, applause, free sneakers), you have to do it so many times that you feel like you’re going to die.
No kidding.
Remember when you did the high fives and champagne because you made a song?
It FELT like you were finished. As an artist, you were probably feeling exhausted and spent and slightly buzzed from the accomplishment of MAKING SOMETHING FROM NOTHING.
You were so happy at that moment because you made a WORK OF ART.
But that’s not enough. Not even close.
The song you made that everybody loved? The one that made you money and brought you fame? The one that they used in that blockbuster animated movie (which made it even MORE popular)?
That song will haunt you like a curse until the day you die.
And then after you’re dead, it will be the thing people sing in their heads whenever they hear your name.
Hilarious, right?
Here’s something else to keep in mind: if you enjoy that initial ride, you’ll need another hit song or it’s going to be a very short trip.
If you’re lucky enough to repeat the process, this could go on forever.
And then when you’re super old and wheeled onstage, they will still want you to perform that song that they love so much. The piece of art you made a million years ago.
You remember, the song that felt finished for five seconds before it broke loose, took on a life of its own and came back with a vengeance to possess you like a demon.
People will ask you what it feels like to be so, so old and still singing that hit song and you’ll smile and give a little laugh and say, “I love that song.”
It will sound sincere, but sometimes you will shed a single tear because inside your head, the tiny little demon that is that hit song is holding a gun to your brain and forcing you to say nice things.
When you’re old and still singing the songs that you’ve been singing for decades, there will be a moment when you ask yourself a serious question.
Why are musicians so cursed?
When a painter finishes a painting, it goes on a wall. Nobody asks him to travel all over the world and repaint that painting on a blank canvas in front of thousands of people.
When a writer types “The End,” her manuscript becomes a book. She might be asked to read some pages in public, but nobody expects her to read a 300-page novel inside a packed stadium with pyrotechnics and some light acrobatics.
Movie stars shoot their scenes and collect a paycheck. Even if the film grosses a billion dollars, there will never be a European live tour. The cast of Top Gun: Maverick will not be asked to reenact the sweaty, sexy beach volleyball scene until they are old and unable to stand without walkers.
So much popular art is “one and done,” but musicians are caught in a life of servitude. Those who are lucky enough to succeed must navigate through life burdened by the weight of their own creations.
Why must I be vexed by this Sisyphus-like existence? Caught on a speeding carousel of singing, dancing and standing ovations?
Why couldn’t I have pursued a less-demanding art form like painting, poetry or finger-tutting? Why didn’t I chose another path of self-expression?
You will ask these questions and then realize the answer…
Because there was no other way to afford your sick-ass boat.
Thanks for reading!
Sincerely,
DJ CrankyPete
Five Song Friday 028
“The Woman Inside of Me” - Chris Knox
Chris Knox is a New Zealand punk rock legend. You might have heard of him if people would just quit talking about Lord of the Rings EVERY time someone mentioned New Zealand.
There are OTHER things going in in that country you know.
Ever hear of rugby or Lucy Lawless?
Or maybe a little something called WOOL?
[drops mic, cue sheep sound]
“Haircut” - Har Mar Superstar (featuring Karen O)
Hey Har Mar Superstar? Shut up. Just shut up. You had me at “Karen O.”
“Righteously” - Anna Ash
Here’s something really weird.
I just found these words on Anna Ash’s website on the “About” page: “Rueful, wise, sardonic… like a Sally Rooney book if the novelist could palm-mute a Silvertone and launch her voice into cathartic falsettos.”
Why is that weird? Because that was, word-for-word, the senior quote I chose for my high school yearbook.
Guys, I’m literally SHAKING right now.
“Let It Out (Let It All Hang Out)” - The Hombres
This 1967 song has been called a “deadpan Southern-fried parody” of Bob Dylan’s “Subterranean Homesick Blues.”
So if you love deadpan Southern-fried parodies and hate Bob Dylan… ENJOY!
“Came Out of a Lady” - Rubblebucket
I’d like to offer my apologies in advance. Evidently, this song is extremely contagious.
I played it for my wife who requested it be replayed several times. That almost never happens. And not long ago, my teenage daughter had it playing out loud on REPEAT.
Don’t get me wrong, it’s a lovely song. But there are only so many times that you can enjoy sing-shouting “HE CAME OUT OF A LADY HOLE!” in one day.
Listen privately with headphones, lest ye suffer a similar fate.
Listen on Spotify
Listen on YouTube Music
That’s all for now. Thanks for reading!
“Virtually every writer I know would rather be a musician.” - Kurt Vonnegut