The Art of Booking Gigs and My Inner-Diva

Booking gigs is a feat when you are an artist struggling to make a name for yourself. First, you must contact the correct venues; the ones that have live jazz as oppose to other types of music. Out of those, there are the venues that already have house bands that play every week or sometimes every night. There are the venues where you can never actually get in touch with the booking contact, because they are never reachable by phone, never actually in the restaurant or lounge, and seem to never open their email, or at least respond to it. There are the venues that used to have live music, but no longer do because their budget’s been cut. There are all the jazz venues that have closed over the last 2-3 years due to economic hard times. There are the places that only book international acts with big names and big fan bases.

There are the places that hear my music, meet me or just get sick of me bothering them and finally book me. Once I play with my band at these places, we are usually a shoe-in for more gigs as they actually hear what we are all about, their patrons love us and so do they. Then there are the venues where I refuse to play again because the set up is so horrible, the piano is so out of tune or the pay is a joke. Believe it or not, I have a spreadsheet which helps me keep track of all of this so that I don’t waste my time and only contact the “appropriate venues”.

It is amazing that considering these circumstances I trudge ahead. That anyone trudges ahead. Unfortunately, sometimes my persistence and promo kit are not enough and so I  finally discovered my inner-diva. I have now booked several gigs by pointing out my brilliance and encouraging booking contacts to feel ridiculous for not booking me. I once swore I didn’t have an inner-diva. I believed that the term “diva” was derogatory. Well, now I know why the diva is necessary and awesome. I am realizing how much creativity, determination, persistence and sheer hutzpah it takes to get anywhere in this business. As they say “If you are not complaining about the business, then you are not in it.”

The Long Wait...

Over the last ten years I have been asked countless times, “Why don’t you just audition for American Idol?” Well, I am now too old for American Idol, thanks for the reminder. However, I recently took the plunge and auditioned for NBC’s rival of American Idol, “The Voice”. You know, the one with Christina Aguilera, Cee Lo Green, Adam Levine and some other guy whose name I can’t ever remember. I decided to do this in an effort to skip the many steps it will take me over the next year to have a sustainable career. 

I had to sign up online for the audition in advance and show up with a printed audition pass at a specific time, so I was thinking that it was possible this thing might actually be organized and have a minimal wait time. I showed up a half hour before the time on my pass and proceeded to join the line. At first it didn’t seem so bad. They had us in 7 single file lines to sign in that merged into one line that formed around the outside of the building under a shaded awning. This part moved fast, so I was definitely thinking, alright, no big deal. I’ll be out of here in an hour. What I didn’t yet realize was that the waiting had barely begun. Our single line eventually spilled us out into a giant conference room filled with at least 500 people in front of us.

Sometime around hour three, my row finally got to stand up, walk into the hallway and wait another fifteen minutes to go into the audition room. Split into groups of ten, I stood next to people who were still not sure what song to sing and were so nervous they were afraid of peeing on themselves or that they might in fact vomit right there. Awesome. Is this really my competition--I thought? As someone who performs professionally, has obtained tools like the “Essential Compass” and has had the privilege of working with performance coach, Shari Carlson the last three and a half years, my nerves were dull and I was feeling pretty good. While others seemed to believe it was their one shot, I was also clear that no matter what happened in that room, I would still have my career regardless of this moment. 

We finally got the wave from a woman wearing a headset and blue jeans to enter the audition room. There was only one judge. The room was sterile, grey and cold from air conditioning. As I watched those in my group walk to the tape on the floor and sing their songs, I realized that aside from one girl who had some experience, most of them had never performed or auditioned let alone ever actually sang in front of anyone before. I thought again, well, if they are truly looking for someone invested in their craft who is polished and knows what they are doing, then I have this in the bag. My turn came. I stood on the mark. I sang my two-song medley. I expressed. I was flawless. 

It was time for the judge to let us know who would be invited back for a second audition and who would not. He gave one call back to a young guy who had some promise but clearly needed a lot of work and a “maybe” to the girl with some experience. The judge then proceeded to thank the rest of us and let us know that we were on the right track, but just not up to “par” yet. As I walked out the door and had my wrist band cut off, I realized what they were looking for. The judge was right about one thing--it definitely wasn’t me. 

The Pledge

This past June I was complaining to my performance coach, Shari Carlson, about how it seemed absolutely impossible that I would ever be able to make a sustainable career as a jazz artist and singer/songwriter. I complained that I was contacting venues over and over again and having trouble getting booked. I complained that the gigs I did book didn't pay enough. I complained that it seemed things were never going to change and that someday soon I would have to get another day job that would suck all the creative energy out of me and make it impossible for me to pursue what I love.
 

Shari's response was, "Prove it". Prove that it is indeed impossible for me to have a sustainable career as a musician by working 40-50 hours a week for the next year rehearsing, following up with bookings, contacting booking agencies, building my mailing list and fan base. At the end of that year, if I do not have a sustainable career, then I am correct. If I am not correct, then I have a career on the right track.

I went home that night cursing Shari's name, because of course she was right. I hadn't really given it my all yet and so I made the pledge; one year of working full-time to get what I want. For the last two months I have done just that (minus one week when I when was on vacation in July and another week in August when family was in town visiting -- of course these things were planned very much in advance and are my only vacations until July 2012) to "Prove it".

Sure wish I'd had a step-by-step guide on how to cultivate a sustainable career in the music business. Here's my attempt...