Words to inspire you to become and stay creative during a pandemic lockdown

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Write music, not dance-floor chart fodder

For a long time I’ve watched (and, to some extent, participated in) club-influenced, electronic dance music’s inexorable homogenisation and oversimplification. There are numerous explanations for this trend that I won’t go into right now but the fact remains that, to an alarming degree, the kind of music that once was conceived as an unbridled form of self-expression, rebellion and creativity has sadly degenerated into a predictable and repetitive cesspool, (overwhelmingly) serving artists seeking to validate their sizeable-yet-brittle egos or make a quick buck. And while you might excuse bloated, jaded and irrelevant scene veterans from cashing in or milking the proverbial cow, it never ceases to amaze/disappoint me when bright young talent willingly trade individuality for familiarity and creativity for conformity.

But I digress. The point I am painstakingly trying to make here is that if, ever, there has been a time to diverge, to experiment, to tinker, to wander, to dream, to create, to imagine and to (generally) do things differently - then that time is now. Never, in generations, has such a synchronous and all-encompassing “reset” button been hit across industry and society - let alone in our dark little corner of the music spectrum. Are you afraid that your latest, introspective and esoteric piece of ambient electronica won’t be “Downloaded by R. Hawtin”? Good. Are you going to lose sleep about not being on the latest Meathead House Top 100 chart over on Beatport? Even better. 

Let’s just take a moment to (quickly) acknowledge a very fundamental and inescapable truth. The beat has stopped. Parties, worldwide, are on indefinite hiatus (with the deplorable exception of “plague raves”). And no, live-streaming to your fanbase (however admirable, in principle) or throwing a zoom party for your mates just isn’t the same - for many reasons. So why focus on making formulaic, cookie-cutter tracks that exist only to fulfil this (basic) function? Don’t get me wrong, there are tons of amazing records made that transcend dancefloors, genres, styles, eras and time. I certainly am not claiming that anything with a 4/4 kick and a well executed arrangement does not have any artistic merit. After all, these are the musical foundations and blueprints from which an entire genre of contemporary music has blossomed. To call it formulaic would be sacrilege, blasphemy. To denounce it as simplistic and one-dimensional; misinformed and cynical.  

But think of the audience(s) you are now trying to reach. Consider the possibilities and the promise. Right now, people all over the planet have had to make enormous sacrifices and adjustments to the ways in which they access their entertainment. They may miss clubbing and dancing and going out with friends - sure -  but they are also craving new music, new TV shows, new sports content, new video games and new stuff to keep them going through these tumultuous times. And these are all in competition with each other, like never before, vying for their precious attention. If you (or I), by some miracle of modern technology can make something cool and fresh and kinda awesome to get them interested, then why not? Why stop short of a breakthrough and choose to stay in some highly-templated comfort zone? Why try so hard to make music only for a (very) specific and already oversaturated demographic? Why not push the envelope a little further and see if you can create something new? Do you honestly believe that posting on Facebook about your new “hard-hitting, melodic techno bomb already supported by Carl Cox, Nicole Moudaber and Dubfire” can compete with the news that the Champions League is kicking back into action? Besides, as far as I can tell the only thing they’ve supported recently is their tour managers’ pension funds, but that’s a whole other story.

The worst possible mistake I see enthusiastic, beady-eyed, up and comers make over and over again is to subscribe to the ridiculous myth that joining some sort of collective or group is going to fast-track their success. “If I can get my track signed to Drumcode or Bedrock, things will start to happen for me”. Well, maybe. Maybe not. But guess what? There’s only one Adam Beyer and only one John Digweed and I’m pretty sure they’re not interested in clones of themselves or of any of their rosters’ artists. There are plenty of great labels of varying styles, shapes, sizes and persuasion but, at the end of the day, they are merely a platform for you to use. And, in turn, they’re going to use you. It’s part of the deal, 50% split of everything - done, get over it. The barriers to entry may often be high but, believe me, they’re decidedly not worth you trading in your individuality or identity for. Accordingly, you should always be striving to make something that is yours, and yours alone. Something that will entice the listener, challenge your peers, delight the audience and cast you in a different light compared to the vast ocean of undistinguishable sameness we’re all swimming in. If that so happens to be outside your preferred style or far removed from whatever some omnipotent, imaginary tech-house, scenester, demigod considers hip, then that’s fine too. 

So, dare to stand out. Finish that dope breaks track you never thought anyone would be interested in. See what that techno track you’re working on sounds like at 135 BPM. See if you can make a piece of music without relying on beats at all! Twiddle those synth knobs in directions and combinations they’re not meant for. Make your studio machines make noises you haven’t heard or imagined before. There are no rules. There’s no right or wrong. There’s no popularity contest you’ve unwittingly entered and there’s definitely no gang of cool kids waiting to welcome you into their inner circle if you can only sound, dress and speak like them at the drop of a hat. 

At the time of writing, the playing field has been levelled like never before and the odds of reaching and converting an audience are as equal as they’re ever likely to be. Why continue to travel on the road of least resistance instead of blazing a trail of your own?            

Enrich your content (the right way)

So, I realize I’m opening up a veritable can of worms here but I’m aware that, for many people reading this piece, “content” is the all-encapsulating term used to describe the stuff we share online. Unfortunately, in the modern musician’s clumsy hands, this can easily also mean cringeworthy video footage of them in their studio, dancing, head-banging or wildly gesticulating to their own music, like some sort of demented primate or even spewing inconsequential, uninformed socio-political commentary; all with the noble intention/pretence of keeping their fans “engaged”. In most social media marketing circles, this is probably considered good business practice and I’m sure that these sort of “consultants” manage to convince their clients (and indeed audiences) of the added value they are offering by making us privy to this sort of bullshit.

Perhaps they’re right.

I often wonder what Miles Davis would have done if he had an Instagram account or, if indeed, Frida Kahlo would have painted as many self portraits if she was always busy trying to capture the perfect selfie. What if we were deprived of Freddie Mercury’s legendary performance at Live Aid because some idiot social media manager couldn’t take care of the Facebook livestream coding in time? 

Again, I digress.

Far from being a luddite troll, I am well well aware of and all too happy to use any and all means of technology that I feel will add real value or substance to what I have to say. And so should you. Am I a bit of a purist soapbox preacher that likes to condemn gratuitous, vulgar rubbish from people who should, in theory, know better and try to set a better example? Yes. Am I completely immune to the dopamine-inducing charms of a little harmless online validation? Not quite. But here’s the thing. There’s a certain time and space for certain things. And I am convinced of the fact that making you or your art reach further and seem more interesting has NOTHING to do with you sharing your Michelin-starred culinary experiences with your audience (unless you have something interesting to say about the meal).     

So then what? Well, believe it or not, the very fact that you are in a position to create art and the improbable sequence of events that have led to you having an audience of your own, likely means that some people find you interesting. Perhaps, they’re curious about how you make these wonderful sounds and would like to know a bit more. Maybe you could make a video or take some pictures of your creative process to share with them. Maybe, just maybe, they’d appreciate it if you were to supplement that killer afro house track you uploaded to YouTube with some sort of visual interpretation. I’ll tell you, it’s a hell of a lot better than relinquishing the privilege to a random YouTube channel (“playlister”, as I’ve heard them be referred to) with an unfathomable number of subscribers who is going to utterly miss the point and adorn it with a bikini-clad babe who lustfully gazes back at you like she’s inviting you for a romp by the pool. Oh, and by the way, those two advertisements you had to watch before listening to your track? Yeah, he collects that revenue instead of you, too. 

But what do I know? I’ve often missed out on DJ bookings because I didn’t have enough Instagram followers and I’ve had plenty of consultants advise me (I shit you not) that I’d do much better for myself if my press shots made me look less nerdy and more sexually desirable. While this is hardly a revelation, bearing in mind how fickle and shallow our social interactions can be, there are some perks to my way of doing things. For one, I can sleep at night without tendonitis in my thumb caused by hours of furious scrolling and swiping on my phone. Secondly, I genuinely enjoy the encounters (both in the physical and digital domain) I have with enthusiasts of (my) music. And lastly, I know that I am proud and confident of the image I cultivate as an artist. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with being a Model/DJ/Foodie/Influencer/Nomad. There absolutely is a problem posing as one, as far as I’m concerned.

Part of the reason that I was encouraged to write down these thoughts, was the release of a new track of mine, called “Rust”, on a label I’ve worked with countless times in the past. So many, in fact (and without a hint of snobbery), that the whole process cycle of packaging, promo-ing, releasing, promoting, gloating and promoting (some more), made me want to delete the file off my studio computer and slit my wrists. What possible good could yet another track - coming through the same old channels, for the same fixed price, by the same people - do for this covid-infested, fearful and depressed world? 

But then, it hit me. Unsurprisingly, we (the label and I) stopped short of revolutionising the current music distribution business model, but by adding value to the track itself (including a massive library of sounds in our bundle), organising an affiliated remix contest (with useful and desirable prizes), bypassing distribution channels and utilising a single platform (releasing exclusively on Bandcamp, which allowed us to control and lower our price) and creating an original, official video to accompany the music (minimizing the risk and effects of other channels hijaking the track to create their own versions), we managed to encourage dialogue, boost engagement and (I hope) actually make some people happy. And you know what? It didn’t cost a fucking cent extra.

Yeah, there will be people reading this that will say “that’s all fine and well buddy, but I don’t have that kind of platform to work with” or “stop being so romantic about this project; you could have achieved comparable results with some shiny new press pics and a targeted social media campaign”. Maybe. But what I do know? I’m just an artist and romance is in my blood.   

Set some (realistic) goals

So what am I trying to say here? Surely, I’m not suggesting that you can alleviate the boredom and demoralisation of a global lockdown by messing around with a few synths and learning rudimentary video editing. But, it sure beats lying on your couch and binge-watching every series on your Netflix list (although I have absolutely nothing against people who do this). And it’s a damn sight better than pretending the music industry (and the world) is going to go back to what it was when the vaccine arrives tomorrow-ish. I don’t have a crystal ball and I can’t foresee the future but if I had to wager, I’d be very skeptical about what things will look like for all those wonderful-yet-highly-delicate threads that string together this fragile and ever-changing place we call the (dance) music industry.

I’ll tell you one thing. As we begin to emerge from our respective cells, heal whatever wounds we might have, reflect on who we are and where we are going, questions will inevitably be raised. One of the most pertinent, that speaks to the arguments made above is: what have I done with the time that has been given to me?

Discounting the inescapable fact(s) that we all need to pay our bills, make ends meet, provide for our families, pay taxes, etc I’m not in any way suggesting that this time has been an open call to reinvent oneself, lay caution to the wind, adopt a bohemian lifestyle and discover your inner David Bowie. Although, I’d totally be on your side if that’s what you wanted to do. But if art (music, in particular) is your thing - whether it’s your job or hobby - and you’re feeling confused about what to do next, you are not alone. Setting some goals definitely pays dividends and introducing some order into your chaotic scramble to remain current and relevant on a variety of different fronts might just help you accomplish more and empower you to rejoin the music world in the (not too distant) future.

Without a doubt, writing music and making something should be at the very top of your daily list. It’s no coincidence that so much great music has been released over the previous months; whether it has been inspired by the unprecedented circumstances of the lockdown or simply seeking to exploit it is irrelevant. The fact is, it just doesn’t matter. Now is the time to really home in on what you truly want to do. Explore and refine those production chops you always tell yourself you have no time for. Experiment with styles you didn’t think suited you or added anything to your preciously crafted profile. Differentiate yourself from your peers and contemporaries by doing something you can proudly own. Guess what? They’re all probably doing (or thinking of doing) the exact same thing; especially since they’re not able to brag about this amazing gig they just played or that exotic country they’ve been invited to perform in!

Enhance your content. I went to great lengths above to convey my disdain for vapid displays of narcissism that masquerade as valuable insights into an artist’s psyche. Don’t get me wrong; sharing your memories of a cool trip with your friends and complaining about the quality of wines in airport lounges are worlds apart, in my book. So am I part of some Orwellian musician social media censorship Gestapo? Should you have to perform frightful mental acrobatics trying to determine what is acceptable, useful content and what isn’t? Natürlich nicht! And I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t still bewildered by the fact that sometimes a picture of a succulent cheeseburger garners 5 times as much engagement as a gig announcement on my own social media. Personally, I blame Mark Zuckerberg. But on a more serious note, learning a few things about how these algorithms actually work and what kind of stuff your followers are more likely to see and respond to (and why) isn’t actually so bad. In the worst case, you might find out how to target them more effectively and manipulate them into buying (into) your product and, in the best case, you might learn a few new skills. This knowledge, coupled with some measure of creativity, consideration and effort, whether it be a new DJ mix, sharing a well-written and thought provoking article that you think will resonate or even an insightful and well-scripted mention of something/someone you admire (other than yourself) are all great ways to nurture a healthy online presence that convinces people that there’s more to you than your unchecked ego and the crap you’re peddling to them. 

Lastly, and without wanting to state the obvious, you need to communicate. And not just to your circle of friends or colleagues about the same old sameness you rehash day in and day out. Certainly not about how unbearable your life at home has become or how awesome your abs look after 6 months of crash course pilates at home - although both impulses are understandable. But what about those people you only speak to once in a blue moon? That promoter you innocuously contact once a year to (discretely) nag, informing him that you’re “passing through” his area, while on tour. The nerdy video editor who hooked you up with free Instagram video edits for your last EP. The overworked mastering engineer you badgered in order to have your dancefloor bombs ready by Friday because you were headlining that sick new club in town. Chances are they’ll surprised but (nonetheless) happy to hear from you - if only to check in. On the one hand, it’s good godamn business - an act of common courtesy - and on the other, there’s a slight chance they’ve been doing the same kind of personal digging as you and have some wisdom or inspiration to impart. Maybe there’s a cool collaborative project they’ve been mulling over and you’re the missing cog in their machine. Perhaps your conversation will unlock your dormant and inquisitive side, sending you down a rabbit hole of self discovery and YouTube tutorials, unveiling your hidden talent for some sort of technical wizardry that further sharpens your skill set. Hell, I spoke to a couple of writer friends a few months ago and discovered I could put together more than a resume.

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