Should I Sign Up to Instagram? A place to connect or a social reject?

I've been thinking about this for a while now; should I sign up to Instagram? This sounds like a stupid thing to deliberate over so I'll explain why I'm so torn.

At a glance, Instagram looks amazing for promoting yourself. All the musicians I follow are constantly uploading photos; guitar pics, studio shots, fan photos......you get the drift. I really love the updates and finding out what's going on in the real lives of some of my idols. But real lives is pushing it slightly.....

I recently did a fill in job for a band who's singer is pretty active on Instagram. To be fair, I was blown away by her dedication to the site. There were a few updates everyday; her morning yoga session, what she ate for lunch and then a picture of her playing an acoustic guitar with the tags #singersongwriter #guitarsession #rockstar #newtunescoming. I did not know this girl very well as I'd never played with her band before and came across her Instagram account while doing my usual pre-new-band research (aka stalking). From looking at her account, I learned that she has two acoustic guitars which she plays almost everyday, she appears to be a very clean eater and works out a lot. By now, she sounds like something from a wet dream.


Well.....Instagram screwed me. Off I went to my jam session with the new band and eager to be friendly and get on good terms with this girl, I began trying to chat guitar with her. One awkward, bumbling conversation later, I had to confess I'd been Instagram stalking her and had seen her guitar pictures, to which all of the guys in the band laughed hysterically. It felt pretty embarrassing.

She quickly set me straight that the photos that had been uploaded were staged! She explained that she could not play the guitar and that the two that appeared in her daily photos were on loan from the band's guitarist, as they were spares in need of repair work.

"I'm still trying to make up my mind if the rationale behind this is stupid or sheer brilliance" - one p*ssed off Instagram Voyeur 

 







I'm still trying to make up my mind if the rationale behind this is stupid or sheer brilliance. The band have all agreed to lie and say that their beautiful, blonde haired, blue eyed, big breasted, 20-something-year-old singer writes all the band's songs on her acoustic guitar to attract more attention to their music. She poses with the guitar in various states of undress, and regularly takes provocative shots, in order to draw men into her profile. Once she's got them, she begins hitting them with stuff about the band.

I was a little uncomfortable with this and I can't even give you a good reason why. You've only got to look at Rhianna and Miley Cyrus to see that using women as sex objects is a tried and tested currency. It just shocked me a little to see a woman going this far to do it to herself.

I was curious about how much effort she put into her Instagram and she seemed only too happy to chat about it. She taught me that it's important to have really regular updates on there, once a day will not get you anywhere. If you haven't got time to do full hair and make up, do a body shot - a guitar is a crotch level instrument and you can use this to your advantage. Don't be afraid to go over the top with the hash tags either; the more you use, the greater the chance of your photo coming up in a search somewhere. There's also a lot of "freaks" out there, so don't be afraid to hook them in - pictures of your feet with the hashtag #footfetish won't hurt you in the popularity contest.

My mind was spinning. There was no thought involved when I signed up to Facebook. All my friends were on there and it seemed like a harmless evolution of MySpace so I just signed up an starting posting.

However, this was not a pop band I was working with; these guys were a rock band and all quite credible musicians. If I felt sad for the singer, I felt ten times worse for the boys in the band. What happens when you don't have nudity and sexually suggestive photos to use as a bargaining chip? If we're honest here, photos of naked men are nowhere near as appealing to the opposite sex as photos of naked women (I'm willing to accept there are a few exceptions to this!) The boys in the band all seemed happy enough to stand behind their hot lead and let her be the face of the group, taking the credit for the collective's hard work. I wondered how far this marketing strategy would take them before cracks started to appear.

In all honesty, Instagram sounds like a lot of work. I'm still in two minds if it's a worth while investment of my time to set up an account and spend a few five minute sessions a day photographing aspects of my musical activities to try and hook in strangers. It just all sounds a little too much like something designed for the beautiful people in life.

My Experience of Crowdfunding and Why I Would Recommend You Stay Clear of It; 90% of cases should probably avoid, the other 10% go right ahead, you'll do great!

Today I had a quiet day at work spending nearly the whole day at my desk. I had my headphones on and Nirvana's Heart Shaped Box came up on my playlist. I haven't heard that song for years and it made me incredibly nostalgic; I remembered how excited I was when I bought my first Nirvana album. I wasn't even a teenager yet, it was the first album I ever bought and by that time it was already over ten years old. I think if I remember correctly it cost me £8. I suddenly felt shocked as I realised I'd actually gone to the record store specifically to buy it. Music was only just becoming downloadable at this point and there was that whole thing with Napster going on and.....well you know what I mean. 

Back then we had to wait to buy our music and I feel incredibly old saying that. I used that purchase to start a neat little row of thin plastic boxes that I kept next to my CD player. Not a day goes by when I don't listen to music and I own neither a CD player nor a single CD! I know it's a pretty petty way of arriving at this conclusion, but the world has definitely changed. 

I wondered what it was like for bands back in Nirvana's day. Dave Grohl is still very much on the go and he's carved a life out of this industry. Trying to follow in his footsteps after the internet has made everything public property seems impossible. 

Seeing as I was running down the clock until quitting time today (and it was Friday!) I ended up on youtube and just so happened to be looking when this newly released acoustic cover of Heart Shaped Box popped up. It's by some amateur and it has a few slightly ropey notes in places, but they've completely changed the instrumentation and it's a pretty clever take on a classic. 

This is what brings me to crowdfunding and why I would recommend you stay clear of it unless you're 100% certain you're going to succeed. Under no circumstances should you take a "Suck it and See" attitude towards this type of thing and I'll explain why. 

Some time ago, my band were desperate to release a five track EP. Every gig we'd play we were asked at least a handful of times if we had any CD's to sell. We didn't, so always referred people to our iTunes account. By the time they'd gotten home, they'd forgotten who we were, how to spell our name or that they even liked us in the first place. We worked out it would cost us roughly £6,500 to record, mix, master, promote, etc. As fate had it, we were contacted online by a company who were starting a new crowdfunding website and wanted us to be an endorsing act for the brand. They offered us free promotion for our campaign and said we'd be used as a success story when the company launched.

At this point, there was no need to be suspicious. Crowdfunding has been in the public eye since 2007 when Radiohead released their album "Rainbows" using a 'pay what you think it's worth' offer. Over 3 million people paid for the album and it was their biggest commercial success so far. I remember hearing about it and being captivated by the idea that I could buy an abum for a penny (not that I did, that would have been so mean!)

It wasn't an easy decision for us to make. Some of us were hesitant to use what could be interpreted as internet begging to fund our next release, and it wasn't the only option available to us. We were all talented musicians and quick learners and I firmly believed we could set ourselves up as a covers band for a few months and raise the money by playing weddings and other paid opportunities.

"The campaign bombed. Not only did it die a slow and painful death, it tore our reputation to shreds along the way. A failed campaign is not a promising indicator of your ability to sell your music."

We were all itching to get back in the studio and use the EP to take our careers to the next level, so in the end we agreed and set to work. The company advised us on how to set up our profile and asked us to make a video explaining why we needed the money. As with all crowdfunding platforms, we were to offer our 'backers' rewards that would correspond to varying levels of financial commitment. 

This was hard to do. The only thing we could really offer them was a copy of the EP which didn't exist yet or perhaps a gig at a location of their choice for a bigger financial contribution. We copied the blueprint of a band who had previously run a successful campaign; hoping our rewards would appeal and we would draw in more backers. 

The campaign bombed. And not only did it die a slow and painful death, it tore our reputation to shreds along the way. Family members of the band were supportive, chucking in about 500pounds between them. We were lucky enough to receive a minimal amount of small donations from randomers on the internet. After that, all we received was criticism; the constant updates on social media annoyed people and one person even went out of their way to contact us and verbally abuse us after we popped up on his Facebook wall somehow. 

To make things worse, the company running the campaign made us do all the legwork, offered little support and harassed us if the total didn't move each day. They were taking a top slice of any money we received, so it was in their best interest that we kept harassing people and begging for their money. Worse still was that we started receiving reports that people attempting to pay online were being directed to some dodgy looking foreign website that they didn't understand. 

A week before the deadline and the total was looking pitiful. We were again harassed by the company who suggested that the band should put our money into the campaign (allowing them to take their top slice!) as nobody wants to have an unsuccessful crowdfunding campaign on their hands and we would loose the little bit of money already in the pot.

What shocked me even more was that it was actually discussed at band practise as if it was a viable option. One member explained that it was money we'd spend anyway at some point down the line but when someone else chimed in that they refused to pay an external company money for nothing, I breathed a sigh of relief and the whole sorry incident was put to bed.

My advice to you is simple; please don't do this unless you're sure you're going to succeed. Through this process, we p*ssed a lot of people off and what hurt the most was that a failed crowdfunding campaign is a big black mark on a band's history. It shows that there is not enough support for your product to make it commercially viable and people really take note of this. If you can't sell your music outside of your circle of family and friends, you're in real trouble. All crowdfunding really does is highlight this in a really public way. There is no doubt in my mind that record label and industry scouts watch crowdfunding platforms like hawks, trying to smell what's selling and jump on it before someone else does. Bombing out on one of these sites will set you back.

The decision is yours. Please make up your own minds, but please be sensible and think it through!

A Rough Day at the Studio; Doubt was the friend who came round afterwards, brought the wine and ordered the pizza.

I recently had a really strange experience in the recording studio while putting the finishing touches to my band's EP.

I usually love studio work! It's the time when a song comes to life and you finally get to hear the track the way you imagined it in your head all those months ago. It can be really productive - if you get the right producer. If you're at the stage where you're considering investing your hard earned cash in laying down some tracks professionally, here's a warning for you. Find the right producer!

Sadly, a chance encounter was the only persuasion my band needed to be led into the studio of the producer we're currently using. Needless to say, this is a terrible selection process and he's not the right fit for us at all. Due to the dynamics of my current group, (one incredibly strong personality who gets to call the shots, but doesn't really know what's what) the decision was made to book in with the studio before discussing anything with the band. I really doubted that he was the right guy for us. Looking at the extensive list of past clients, it made for an impressive but mismatched read; none were in the same genre as us, or even anything close. This was mistake number one.

Mistake number two? Don't expect the producer to do anything more than the job of a producer, and certainly don't allow them to either; it's a can of worms you'll never be able to close.

The big problem here was that our producer was invited into the fold of the band, acted as a sixth band member for a while before graduating into the position of band manager. Crazy, eh? Looking back on it, I can see how this situation came about.

This band's career has been like an exploding confetti canon; we each had different skills and levels of experience making a pretty colourful mix, but when we got together it just exploded. Within the first year we wrote over thirty songs, appeared at some pretty big music festivals and experienced a winning streak when we were on commercial radio at least once a week. It was incredible, but commercial success is no substitute for experience.

Half the band have no experience working in studios and so, walked into it completely submissively. The process turned on it's head and instead of the band holding the reigns and walking away with a product true to it's original concept, we've ended up with the producer's interpretation of our work - it's a million miles away from what we wanted and coming from somebody who doesn't work with artists of our genre, what should we have expected?

It all started when he came to one of our gigs, listened to us play and then spent  the rest of the night being asked to comment on what he thought we should change. It all just snowballed from there; one minute he was making a suggestion on how to improve someone's drum pattern (totally acceptable and really helpful), the next he was sitting us all down to mentor us on interpersonal relationships (not really qualified, or even anywhere near appropriate!) and charged us for the time!

The most stark moment for me was when I turned up after a busy day at work to find my guitarist in the booth with the producer having a full on music lesson with him! By the time I arrived, they'd been in there for two hours while the guitarist played and the producer critiqued his right hand technique and the way his wrist moved while he played. Looking at the itemised bill, we could have paid for him to have almost eight hours of lessons with an actual guitar teacher for the same cost! He just didn't realise that this is NOT a routine part of studio work and that these issues really needed to be hammered out before we got to this stage.

I left the studio that day feeling exhausted. I called out for pizza and curled up on the sofa with my doubts spinning round my mind; I doubted he was the right producer for us, I doubted we were ready to even be in the studio just yet and I really doubted we'd come away with a product we were happy with. For fear of being labelled negative, stubborn, oppositionally defiant or a stick in the mud, I kept quiet, ate my pizza and watched reruns of Ink Master until it was time for bed.

Fortunately for me, I know when to pick my battles and keeping quiet was the perfect way to give the situation enough rope to hang itself.

The track was eventually finished and so was the itemised bill - it came in at a devastating three and a half times the original estimate. We had to delay any future recordings until we'd all recovered from the expense. Although it was a set back, it really gave us some time to contemplate the decisions we'd made and think about how to avoid this happening in future.

The good: next time we go into the studio we'll have straightened out the fine details and be really prepared, know what to expect and be able to keep the cost down closer to the original estimate. Every strange experience is a learning experience and I can certainly say that's true in this instance.

The bad: it's given half the band a twisted first experience of studio work. I still hear talk in the rehearsal studio of "running an idea past the producer" or asking the producer if it's ok for us to change this, that and the next thing. It'll take some effort to clear up the misconception that he's somehow in charge of us and get him back behind the sound desk, but I'm confident we'll get there.

A Lesson in Second-Guessing Yourself; how doubt can be like a boner in a strip club.

I thought I'd kick this thing off by sharing my opinions with you on how doubt can be your worst enemy and your best friend in the world of music. Your worst enemy is probably a good place to start; it's something I wish I'd realised much sooner and I'll use some personal experiences to show how deep it can run.

When I was a youngster, one of my first experiences of working on a collaboration with other artists came at university. The lecturer assigned us groups of what I suppose he thought was equal weighting in terms of skill selection. I remember only one person who was assigned to my group that day; a much older student who was twice my age and identified as a "producer". I really didn't know what he meant by this but I soon came to learn it was his misused, glorified label for a DJ. He always carried a laptop on him, although I only ever saw it used for taking notes on Microsoft Word or playing the occasional CD, and he played no instruments or had any knowledge of Pro Tools, Logic, Sibelius, etc. Our task was simple; we were to work on writing a piece of music together, that fitted some shaky guidelines our lecturer had set.

I was really into using Cubase (the digital audio workstation, for those of you who aren't techies)  at the time; I found it quick and easy and the piano sound was realistic enough for me to scam my way through composition assignments. So, the group and I decided the quickest way to get the job done would be to throw together some drum loops for this "producer" to run some "beats" over the top.

The following week, disc in hand, I turned up for class and Mr Producer popped my Cubase export into his infamous laptop. I expected him to at least just give it a listen and then maybe start with the beat-running-over-the-topping - but no. As the other members of the group gathered round (contributing nothing, by the way) he began to mock the track.

"OMG, the drums are flat! Listen to this, those drums are well flat!" His face twisted into a grimace as he tried to show how terribly out of tune these drums- these drums created using a software program set to perfect pitch with not a single live instrument in use - sounded.

"Urgh, listen to that!" He continued, gesturing for the rest of the group to get involved. One by one, they began exchanging looks with each other and nodding. He'd won them all over.

He'd won me over. Much older, much more dominant and much louder than me, I didn't dare question him. The logical part of me was sure it was impossible for this standardised electronic signal to be out of tune. The experienced musician in me knew that a drum kit was not an instrument that required 'tuning' in the conventional sense of the word, but more of a toning process through tightening heads. The band-mate in me was scanning back through images of drum keys and socket wrenches, but failed to find a memory of a tuner or any kind of pitch-measuring device.

But there it was; the smothering feeling of doubt and the constant questioning that popped up every five minutes like a boner in a strip club. Assuming there must be something I just didn't understand, I took back my disc, melted into the peripheries with the onlookers of the group, and let Mr Producer submit his beat track as our collaborative assignment; for which we all scored abysmal marks.

It wasn't until a few years later, when the b*llshit in the music arena finally wore too thin, that I was able to see the truth. I was backstage at a music festival in Australia on a day so hot I could see a bushfire in the distance and was checking my tuning in case my bass strings had expanded in the heat. At this point, another Mr Producer type walked over to me and stated loudly on front of the entire crew that I was doing it wrong. "Don't bother tuning that thing," he said. "It's too hot, you'll go flat. Just open it up." I couldn't figure out what he meant so I said nothing and just looked at him, confused. "It's got something in it, it's called a truss rod," he continued, speaking slower this time. "You'll need to give that a couple of turns".

I thought he was joking and laughed while he stared at me blankly. "Seriously, adjust that thing. I give mine a few turns every time I play it". And with that, he walked off. We can discuss what's wrong with this entire example another time, if need be, but it served a purpose for me. What he said was absolute crap and I knew it. But still, that familiar feeling washed over me and for a split second, my brain went on auto pilot as I felt my hands go to turn the bass over and see what kind of Allen key would take the truss rod cover off.

And at that moment, the foot came crashing down! I just couldn't do it to myself anymore...

Like hell was that a good suggestion! Like hell had I been tuning my bass wrong after nearly thirteen years of playing! Like hell was I supposed to adjust the neck before every time I played my bass since the day I started! And like hell was that drum track flat!

You may or may not have your own moment when you just snap and can't take any more of it. I'm happy I had mine, but wish it had come sooner. After years of second-guessing myself, some of the theories I've entertained have been ridiculous. A particular peach came from another former classmate of mine who had me believing that if I took a guitar on an aeroplane, the air pressure changing in the cabin would snap the guitar neck in half (???????????)

Ultimately, all these silly little things people have had me believing over the years have been counter-productive. There comes a time when you have to accept that you may not know everything, you may not get it right 100% of the time, but that if you've worked hard and earned your stripes chances are you do know your stuff and can stay grounded on that. Hold that ground, you're going to need it in this business for sure.