Just Between You and Me
The fact is, most of us aren’t as good as we think we are and even if we are, it almost always doesn’t matter.
Thanks for tuning in with me every week, friends. I’ve been enjoying recording the shows remotely from various places all over the world. The only drag in doing them so far in advance is that when I finally get to new music or subjects I’d like to address, it’s already been out in the ether for some time.
I recorded next week’s show [Episode 007 - set to air first on CKUW, June 18] the other night from Stuttgart, Germany on a rare full day off for us on Corb Lund’s, El Viejo world tour. No driving, no show. A true day off which is an extremely rare occurrence for us. We were staying in an American chain hotel which provided more familiar creature comforts than the European hotels do. Larger bed, better pillows. Nothing’s perfect and I’m in no way at all complaining, just making some observations and statements of preference as for the most part I don’t love the hotel rooms over here. Pretty nice life if that’s my biggest complaint though, eh? The hotel food/breakfasts (among other things) are typically a little more civilized than in North America and (all but one of) the rooms we’ve had are consistently cleaner than what you’ll run into sometimes back home.
The opportunity to continue to make a living playing music - and at a higher level than I’ve ever had before - is not lost on me. I’m extremely thankful because there’s no telling when it could all end and then god knows what I’ll do. Well… I think we know what I’d do. I’d be back to grinding it out in the minor leagues in the small rooms of the regional and municipal circuit I was once so familiar with. And that’s okay because to quote my friend, Spider Bishop in Calgary, Alberta, “Music owes me nothing.”
I spent some hours walking around Stuttgart eyeballing the history and old buildings before settling in on a patio for a couple hours to take it all in. For the first time in many months actually felt relaxed which has historically been a difficult place for me to land. However, I struggled all day and in the days leading up to this with whether or not I should share the following diatribe. Upon deeper reflection, I concluded that since I’ve seen no alternative outlook shared on this situation that I’d use my platform to express a different, perhaps more unpopular side of the coin.
The way I see it, I owe something to you, the people out there who take the time to listen to the show, read the posts and engage with my efforts. The fact is, I owe a lot to Boots & Saddle. It pointed me in the direction I was meant to go in; saved me and gave me a purpose when I desperately needed one. There’s a variety of things I’ve been hearing and reading recently that have been wearing on me as an active member in the community of both musicians and broadcasters and I feel compelled to weigh in.
Just a personal preference, but more offensive to me than the rising popularity of the derivative 1990’s sounding throwback country music is the growing trend of artists who are complaining about their station in the music business. Disguising these outbursts (and that’s what they are) as acts of honesty or “sharing their truth”. Equally frustrating are the comments they get back reaffirming and expressing a shared sentiment about the other person’s position, or lack there-of in the industry. An artists life is hard. It was never meant to be easy. It’s never going to be perfect.
A quick Boots & Saddle public service announcement for you friends: As artists, songwriters, performers, hosts, agents, managers, techs - whatever you are in the business - it’s not perfect and music owes us nothing. Whether it’s 15 or 30, 50, 80, or 100 thousand a year, if your sole or primary source of income comes from playing music and/or being in the music industry, you must consider yourself to be beyond lucky. I realize that with the current, steady gig I’m fortunate enough to have, all of this is much easier for me to say than it once was. Despite the position I’ve been in these last couple of years and as fun and rewarding as the life and gig are, it’s no picnic navigating everything that comes with maintaining this schedule and for the most part, pressing pause on my own ambitions to accommodate the demands of this job (which I’ve been more than happy to do as I love this gig).
I’ve been on the road hard this year and will spend just shy of 6 months of accumulated time on tour in 2024. I missed my daughter’s first steps and her first birthday last year and will miss my best friends wedding this fall. That’s the deal. That’s what I signed up for and I’m not going to start whining about it now or when it inevitability isn’t going as I’d hoped. I will also acknowledge that I’m extremely lucky to have a loving and supportive partner who believes in me and believes in this. That makes it all a lot easier. But it remains a grind.
You know what else is a grind? Waking up before sunrise to make your kids breakfasts and lunches and getting them off to school before going to the job site for backbreaking labour swinging a hammer all day. I’m thankful to have not had to endure that myself, but I suspect if you have, then you’d deserve a platform in which to project your misery much more than one of us who struggles to accept the realities of the entertainment business.
If you’re complaining about instances in which you’ve been wronged by the same music business scum you were dying to get into bed with or lamenting about a lack of a fan base, team, streaming numbers or the social media following that you feel your body of work has earned you, then it seems to me you’ve got larger problems to address and are missing the point of creating the art itself, never mind adding to the degradation and humiliation to some of your followers who have far less working in their favour than you might. There are millions of talented people in the world and simply being talented or having put in what you perceive as “enough time” in the music business doesn’t and shouldn’t, guarantee you a seat at the card table.
And believe me, I get it. The ups and downs, the rejection and damn near consistent kick in the crotch associated with putting yourself out there is not something most people are truly cut out for or able to navigate in a healthy way. The fact is, most of us aren’t as good as we think we are and even if we are, it almost always doesn’t matter.
All you can do is hold yourself, your work and the words you share accountable and perhaps consider being a little more objective in how you view yourself within the fickle landscape of modern music and media. Your art and expression can remain meaningful and fulfilling without accolades. I’ll pull another quote here for you, this one by a colour commentator from the 2001 Stanley Cup Finals television broadcast: “Accountability doesn’t build as much character as it reveals.” In a perfect world we’d have all the things we desire, but, well you know…
On the subject of perfection, perhaps there are exceptions or at the very least instances in which it’s just a sniff a way. One could argue the merits of an expertly cooked cut of beef or the sound of a child’s laughter or the proximity of a parking space in relation to your destination as being “perfect”. For me, I guess it’s all of those things along with the opening line following that signature Pedal Steel Guitar intro proclaiming, “So I feel so blue sometimes I wanna die.”
Perfect country music?
Country music done perfectly?
Maybe, yeah.
Some folks have had it a lot harder and face much greater obstacles on their way up the chain than you or I can imagine. Fighting stereotype, sexism, racism. Breaking barriers and letting nothing stand in their way. Blocking out the noise and the doubt. Silencing their ego to stay on-course, focused on what it really takes to follow their dreams and then creating a space in our collective hearts for their artistry.
And so you’ve never felt so low? So what.
Here’s a live performance I’ve always loved from a true legend. An inspiring figure not just in the field of beautiful country music, or on the baseball diamond, but in life. It’s Charley Pride, with a damn near perfect song.