Elsewhere on the laptop I am using to write this there can be found a Word document. Well, actually there can be found tens of thousands of Word documents but there's one in particular that is on my mind this afternoon.
This document is a list. A list comprising names, dates, locations, points of view, and notable milestones along the way from half a century as a working drummer.
It's two pages of positivity, I refer and add to it quite frequently. It serves as a reminder of quite a number of things that all turned out rather well for me over the decades, and it comes in very handy when, as happens to so many of us so much of the time, hoped for progress, development, and subsequent successes come to nothing.
I should qualify that by stating clearly that victimhood plays no part in my day-to-day thought processes. In spite of some of the huge disappointments that have come my way (the drum chair with one of the biggest pop bands of the 80s, a six album deal with an achingly hip record company in the 90s, a guest appearance for my band on a top TV chat show approximately twenty years ago are three particular favourites) I tend to set my coordinates towards positivity and optimism.
Setbacks are merely a consequence of stepping up to the plate, rolling the dice, or whichever cliche you prefer. In other words, if you don't try you'll never know.
What's also interesting about successes vs setbacks (and they can often be mistaken for one another) is that they strengthen our character, and it is important that we use these life events to our best advantage, and try in so far as is possible, not to give a sh*t. Or if you do, try not to let it show.
Suffice to say that if my Word document were a hard copy, it would be as thumbed, smudged and faded as the original hand copied parts for 'Splanky'. I go back to it constantly as the next disappointment is never far away. Despite what you may infer from that last observation I do remain steadfastly optimistic about my own work and that of my many friends and colleagues who have chosen to tread a similar path, but the ineluctable fact remains that a disproportionately high percentage of what at first seem to be completely amazing new ideas never get as far as second gear, but that in itself is part of the process.
Being at the niche end of the music industry doesn't help matters, but we put ourselves here. The opportunity for any kind of serious coverage is negligible, but is that elusive coverage (and I wrote about this just the other day) that occupies my business mind on a regular basis. Not solely in the interest of personal advancement, but for the advancement of other deserving talents, and the scene in a more general sense. 'Twas ever thus. By my late teens I had already dabbled with big band leading and gig promoting, and would scour the industry press of the day looking for angles and opportunities. I'm still at it, it's part of my DNA. Some of the things I have managed to do over the years, when examined with the benefit of hindsight and leavened with a generous helping of rational analysis, seem close to impossible. If I thought that at the time I was nonetheless undeterred. Optimism, pragmatism, and a tiny pinch of reality.
If things don't work out it isn't the end of the world. The only thing that is the end of the world is the end of the world itself.
I try always to remember that the industry (if that's the word) doesn't owe me anything, and in order to bring things about I am going to have to do the majority of the legwork myself. It's the same for everybody, even those who outwardly appear to lead utterly charmed lives rarely if ever actually do. There is a lifetime of unseen graft and sacrifice that leads up to that memorable gig or fantastic recording, and having just completed the mix of what I have no hesitation in describing as a fantastic recording I know the process of old. What will become of this recording I don't really know as yet, but I am looking for angles as always. If it doesn't change my life in any substantive way, having made it happen is enough. It's a personal career high water mark, of which there have been disproportionately more over the last five years, so I'm doing something right, even if I'm not entirely sure what that is.
In the company of a hugely gifted fellow musician the other day I joked that niche market artists are a bit like undercover agents if you'll forgive the analogy. Hiding in plain sight, planning in secret, and only needing to get lucky once.
So, let's give this one more try shall we? What could possibly go wrong?
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