If MTV made it so that you had to look like a model, then the Internet has recreated music as a marketing machine that keeps you more worried about which soft-drink to pose with than whether your melody is hooky or not. And network programming — you know, the guys that are all owned by corporations now anyways — haven’t helped that. Everything has been retooled, re-tailored and re-branded to scale to the industry’s biggest buying audience: The Download Generation.

If you follow my personal Facebook profile, you saw me lose my crap last night about a conversation I had with a marketing firm that wanted me to hire them to promote my upcoming release of EASTERN CHRONICLE in the USA. I started the conversation very excited to talk with them about launching a killer campaign. By the time I hung up, however, I wasn’t a happy camper. Not because they don’t want to help me with a successful launch. It was the way they wanted to do it. They wanted to push the “solo” aspect of the record as much as possible. They wanted me to downplay the fact that I had assembled a veritable chorus of international musicians for the project, some of them completely unknown. Some of them having never sung in front of a microphone or played in front of anyone outside of their immediate family. Some of them had never even seen a white guy like me before.

To this particular marketing firm that was not a sellable angle. Those aren’t my words… That’s what they called it…. not a “sellable angle”. That might be the most stomach-churning phrase I’ve ever heard anybody say about a piece of art in all my years as a musician. Sellable angle.

In short, they’d completely missed the point. The heart of the project was totally lost on them. Not only am I not in this to sell an angle (What the hell does that mean, anyway?), but I’m certainly not in this to create the facade of a “one-man-show”. True, I wrote and produced this music. I assembled the people I wanted to collaborate with and I put it all together. I wrote every note of melody. Every lyrical line. But the final product is something that far surpasses anything I set out to do when deciding to create a “solo record”.

And I bet every artist, if being straight about it, would say the same thing: There are no “Lone Rangers” in this industry. We’ve all have help. We’ve all got people working tirelessly to get our dreams off the ground, no matter what kind of fame or glory or notoriety or kudos it may or may not provide for them. Likewise, many of us have helped the people in our lives who have needed it. I’ve helped many people promote, broadcast, design and execute campaigns to push their art when they’ve needed my help. Why? To get something back from them? To be owed a favor later? Hell no.

Because their stuff was good.

Period. That’s it. No other reason.

See, there doesn’t need to be another reason. As an artist, I can stand on my own two feel. I’m a pretty confident guy when it comes to my artistic output. I’ve been clobbered a few times, sure. It can be rough water out there. I wrote a film score once that got some pretty shitty reviews in some genre blogs on the Internet. It wasn’t fun reading that stuff. I’ve been knocked around a bit as a drummer, too. There is one particular review of an album from a few years ago where I played on the lead track as a replacement for the drummer who did the rest of the record. The track was panned pretty hardcore in album reviews and the groove between me and the bassist was an oft-cited reason. Those kinds of things are tough to see/hear/read… But it comes with the territory. You can’t please everyone all the time, try as you might.

So, I can move past those things and remind myself of the truth that you won’t always make everybody happy. What I cannot move past is this attitude that pervades our entertainment culture… and really, our societal culture… that says “I did this all by myself and without the help of anyone else. I AM THE MAN. Look at me.”

“I Made This”

I was a pretty big “The X-Files” fan back in the day. I thought it was an awesome show. I never missed it. But the thing I liked the most about it wasn’t the crazy monsters and aliens that they’d come up with in the storytelling each week. It wasn’t the chemistry between Mulder and Scully or the conspiracy theory mythology that kept those two characters woven together so well through so many seasons. It was Chris Carter’s logo at the end of the show for his Ten/Thirteen Productions — his company that produced the show.

If you cannot see the video below, click here.

Something about the sound of the little kid’s voice uttering those words, “I made this!” used to make me laugh every time. At the time when “The X-Files” was at its peak, I was living in a house with several of the guys I was in a band with. We’d all gather on Sunday nights to eat and watch “The X-Files”. After awhile, the end of each episode became a joke; Whenever we heard that little kid’s voice, we’d all say in unison… “No you didn’t!!!!!”

Of course it’s just a logo… and of course I’m deriding the “Ten/Thirteen” logo to illustrate a point. How many people do you think it took to pull off an episode of “The X-Files”? Hell, how many people does it take to pull off an episode of “Judge Judy”? You think it’s just her, the bailiff and a courtroom full of extras? I got news for you.

Community = Help

Every artform has a team behind it. Painters have their portraits, but without a gallery and the FedEx guy nobody is ever going to see one. Songwriters have their songs and composers their scores, but without players and singers and agents and BMI or ASCAP they’ll never see a dime. Actors have their craft and their methods for creating character, but without a script by an accomplished writer, without direction from an auteur or money from a studio, they’ll never set foot on a set.

The aforementioned people believed that by hoarding all the credit for myself and downplaying the fact that this was an international collaboration, I’d be more successful when I release my album. I’ve never believed in that model. I was told that when I launched the SCOREcast Podcast Show, too. That I didn’t need a co-host. That it should be ME and nobody else. That’s stupid. I didn’t buy it then and I don’t buy it now. There wouldn’t be a SCOREcast Podcast Show without Brian Ralston. Period. There wouldn’t have been one back in the early days without Lee Sanders or Mike T. It would have never sustained an entire hour of Deane Ogden. It needed a collaboration. And it is one. And it always will be one.

EASTERN CHRONICLE simply wouldn’t have happened without my family and my friends. It would have never even gotten off the ground. What’s the “sellable angle”? That’s easy. It’s the community I was able to work with to get it done. People from all over the world. From my Mom who pushed me to do it from the beginning to little Nudgi Chanthie who I met in a mall elevator in Sri Lanka and convinced to sing a little louder… and into a microphone. She now plans to try out for “Indian Idol” next year. Vrina and I have promised to attend her first broadcast once she gets on the show. I hope she goes all the way and takes the whole damned thing.

Who Is Your Community?

You are part of a community. Look around you. You think you are doing it all on your own? Think again.

You might sing at church. That’s a community. You might be active in a SCOREcast regional chapter. That’s a community. You might go down to Open Mic Night at Hotel Cafe in LA or your local Atlanta jam bar on Saturday nights and sing a few tunes with the weekend warriors. That’s a community. You might have your stuff on SoundCloud. SoundCloud is a community. You might be Amanda Palmer and have made over a million bucks with your Kickstarter campaign. She is the figurehead around a very loyal community.

Your community is where it’s at. Not in the solitude of a career in the dark. That goes nowhere. Artists can make great art, but communities are where art becomes successful. Communities are where art meets traction. Without a community, art has nowhere to go. It’s just you. Alone. In a room.

And you can only do so much.

But a community? Well, a community can kick open the doors of possibility. In my case, a community meant the difference between a “trip to India” and… “Damn! India was a trip!!!” When I was in India recording musicians, I didn’t just show up with my passport and my laptop. I showed up with my passport, my laptop and a list of people I’d made relationships with through Twitter and Facebook. You’ll hear some of them on EASTERN CHRONICLE. They are some amazingly talented and sweet people. There is no way I would have survived two weeks in India and Nepal without those people from my community.

… And You?

So, how are you doing in cultivating your community? Are you cultivating, or are you trying to get and keep as much for yourself as you can? ‘Cuz I’ll tell you what… You’ll never build a community by doing that. Communities are founded on a give and take… But mostly a give. Sharing. Sharing work, help, credit, joy, pain, creativity, struggle.

You have to put in what you take out. And then some. It has to be selfless. Expecting nothing in return.

That’s what built SCOREcast. A bunch of people helping a bunch of other people. Are we all at the top of the game in terms of credits? Nope. Are we all at the top of the game in terms of experience? Nope again. Someone told me recently that SCOREcast suffers from credibility issues because of that. I call bullshit and I say he’s not paying attention, or missing the point… Or both. If fame and fortune are of utmost importance to you, then yeah… Sure. But to us that shit is worthless. Community is what drives creativity. It always has.

Influence. Tribe. Camaraderie.

Call it whatever you want.

Community fuels this. Community keeps us hungry. Keeps us striving for better in ourselves.

Community holds our feet to the fire and makes us care just a little bit more.

In a community, there doesn’t have to be a winner and a loser.

We all win.