Thanks to getting hacked, and Facebook having no live people to help with solutions, and thanks also to my fatigue, Covid, ADHD and general inability to deal effectively with the electronica, I was forced to shut down my FB Music page.
This means that my only online outlets for communication about music are my primary FB account, my Instagram, and this blog.
I don’t yet know how I will deal with this in the long term. The lockdown, two years of living with Long Covid, and now a second round of Covid that I just got through, plus my overall health and now these online hassles, are all conspiring to make me reassess my future as a working musician.
I know that to be a “working” musician, one has to have gigs. I have just a couple in the coming months, and have been working on finding more; but focusing for so long on playing in Jewish spaces has meant that I haven’t learned how to get my foot in the door on the local, secular scene.
I know that “working” musicians have a strong presence on social media. And I admit that I do not. Sure, my stuff on FB gets read and responded to, but ultimately that hasn’t translated into a lot of gigs. When I was working more steadily I could go to at least one Jewish music conference a year, which is a big part of how one gets seen and heard in the Jewish world. But Long Covid put me out of regular work, and I have not recovered fully enough to hustle my way back to earn enough money to go to those. It is unlikely that I’ll be able to attend too many going forward.
This is not a pity party, so don’t get any ideas.
I’m just exploring the landscapes of the music business and of my own mind. Both have taken a serious beating in the last four or five years. And the only people who have survived, who have thrived, are the ones who are adept and healthy enough to adapt. I admit that I have not been able to adapt so well. While everyone else was running around buying new equipment to improve their online presence, I was filling food stamp renewal forms, queuing on wait lists for doctor appointments and mental health counseling and trying to write new songs just so I could remain relevant to myself. A once-a-month Shabbat gig in town was an emotional and financial lifeline that has continued to be a real blessing. But the strength and stamina I enjoyed before Covid are gone, and I am tired all the time now. There is no way for me to work a day job and pursue music on the side as I did for so long, and I cannot seem to hustle hard enough to make up the difference. The landscape has changed. So have I.
The awful truth is that I simply cannot produce enough new content to survive in the digital download world. Because online platforms do not care about music, or the artists who create it. Everything is content, and product. We’ve lost the ability to slow down and let things germinate and unfold organically, because we’re all competing with the New World Order of churning out product as quickly as possible, to compete with other artists (because there’s no way we can compete with the platform owners and hope to gain anything).
So, with the end of my FB Music page, Bandcamp being sold to a music licensing firm, and my inability to work enough to pay for a new web site, I am left wondering if this the time for me to wind down my time as a “working” musician and ooze my way to my 65th birthday, when I can collect Social Security, be on the Medicaid version of Medicare and live as simply as possible for the duration.
I am proud of what I’ve done. I created five albums of original music, and they are out in the world for people to enjoy and to share. I don’t care about making tons of money as a musician — that was never going to happen anyway, and never happens for 99% of the artists out there — I just wanted to make enough to pay my bills. Since Covid, I haven’t been able to do even that.
What happens now?
I have a gig in Northern California in early December, and I’m working at a local synagogue two days a month. I’d like to do more, but don’t know how to make that happen with my health, at my age, and in the current landscape. So for now I am living day to day and trying to keep my costs down. On my good days, I venture out to open mics to be heard and t9 hear new music. The world does not wait for my good days, and I don’t have enough of those to string together a solid month of work. So here I am.
This is not uncommon.
The majority of musicians age and deal with health and financial issues that wind down their careers. I am blessed beyond words with loving family and a remarkable spouse who all love and care about me, and whom I love as well. We live in a house, there’s food on the table and my spouse reassures me that we re in any danger of losing our home. Our country is not embroiled in a war that could embroil us all in harm’s way. So I already have so much more than a lot of people who don’t experience this level of security and love. And I am grateful for all of it, every day.
So now I’ll get on with my day. Small things, one at a time, so I feel like I got something done.
And I will hold the truth in my heart of how sweet each day is.
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