The opening acts were a classic rock revue- not the shit that classic rock stations play now. Van Halen is not classic rock; Eddie learned his moves from these guys. Steppenwolf, The Who, and The Guess Who played back-to-back short sets, reminding all that you can still rock without auto-tune or makeup. I was in high school, but these guys wrote these songs decades earlier. Once the drums had exploded, the roadies dragged them offstage and brought out the evening’s first headlining act.

Like a curveball nailing a batter smack in the ear, the concert shifted to Contemporary Christian music. I shit you not, Jars of Clay started off with that one song that got played everywhere. At this point I was in college and the popcorn was already half empty. Dan said thank you and made his exit, just as the man himself walked on with a guitar. He was three feet tall and smiling like some kind of weird celtic punk-folk pixie. The rest of the band took their places and Caedmon’s Call started their set.

They didn’t just play a few songs, they performed a strange drama right in front of me. The beginning of the set did something Christian music’s not supposed to do: it made me think. And it made me dance (I must have looked weird, all alone in that front row). The band realized their mistake, I guess, and started playing the typical praise-and-worship crap. Only the diminutive one seemed as disappointed as I by the change in mood. By the end of their set, the house was silent and unmoving. The band quietly disassembled their gear and walked off stage right, but Derek Webb exited alone, stage left. He’d be back later.

For a long time there was nothing. It was as though the stage manager realized they’d booked the wrong lineup and was scrambling to put together another show right then and there. When finally the stage lights went up again there was a tall skinny guy like me standing at the mic. Train played three whole albums worth of material while I watched. I didn’t mind, I was out of college and hated my job; I had nothing better to do. With Pat’s voice still ringing out in the theater, they performed a no-huddle play and switched to Jason Mraz. I got out a notepad so I could keep on top of the linguistic swordplay.

Then the strangest thing happened. Usually the independent acts are the first on stage so the real performers can make you forget all about them. At this show, though, the indies made up the heart of the event. Laura Clapp banged out a white-hot rendition of Joplin’s Bobby McGee. In a surprise twist The Peter Moon Band called me up on stage with them. The set was like a roller coaster off its tracks: fast, exhilarating, but probably going to kill me in the end.

Two men jumped up to save me: Kevin Reeves and Geoff Smith. Surrounding me with a defensive wall of pianos, they got me on my feet and back in the front row to enjoy the closers. By this time I was running my own business, so I didn’t have money for another bag of popcorn. As promised, Derek came back and played a single song without his old band. It made sense and reminded me why I loved his writing, but I had already moved on. All that remained was the final set as the weather got colder outside.

Two pianos appeared under hot lights, one real and one purple with flowers on it. The last two performers both played keys, just like me, and both hit the stage at the same time. Ben Folds stationed himself at a rickety old upright while Amanda Palmer perched behind her Kurtweil PC88. They were like the SWAT team of piano music- fast, efficient, and effective to the point of knocking me over backwards. My jaw wouldn’t close, nor would my ears. They played dueling pianos in front of me like two pirate ships trading volleys of cannon fire. Each song tried to out-wow the last.

Then Amanda died and no one could figure out who did it.

Their set ended at that point while the police crowded the stage. The house lights still haven’t come up yet, though. I’m still in that seat waiting to see who’s on next. Maybe by the end of the night I’ll play a set of my own tunes and someone else will be front-and-center, staring at me.

(If you hadn’t already noticed, every one of these links is an affiliate link to iTunes. If you want to hear the music that made me who I am, buy some of it and I’ll get a teeny-tiny kickback from the fruit company.)

What makes me drop everything for someone else’s project?

On one level it’s a matter of karma. Whether or not Amanda and her team ever plan to drop everything and help me out, I try not to pass up opportunities to do for others what I want done for me. It’s one part personal belief, one part gamble. I believe the chance of return from good karma is a hell of a lot higher than winning the lottery or getting “discovered” at an open mic.

Most importantly though: I don’t believe it’s coincidence when someone you know has a pressing need that you’re the perfect guy to fill. I’ve been in the right place at the right time with the right people far too often to believe it’s all chance. Granted, I still wish my career would move a lot faster than it is, but I think I’m moving at a pace that’s being intentionally directed. Maybe it’s to retain my humility for a longer, happier career. If I turned into a superstar overnight I probably wouldn’t respect my fans and supporters as much, I don’t know.

All I do know is that if you’re doing something I believe in, you need help, and I’m the right guy for the job, I will drop everything for you.

So here are the questions for you folks reading this: What do you drop everything for? What are you doing for those people who drop everything for you?

Why should I get jealous when I see a good show? I know those two have worked their asses off to get to the stage they’re at, nobody just handed them enough fans to fill the Wilbur Theater. They earned them. Still, here I am: Working my ass off trying to put on the best show I possibly can. I can’t afford to hire the kind of crew that Train or Amanda Palmer have working with them, I’m doing most of this myself. And yet I haven’t quite reached that goal of playing the big rooms with my name on the marquee.

The Dresden Dolls show reminded me of what I don’t have.

Does this make me a bad person? I don’t think so. It makes me a person. One of my heroes summed it up best in August:

The guy I really let get to me was John Mayer. Man, I wanted what that guy was achieving and now that I’ve had a chance to hang with him and see how great he is at what he does, I truly only want great things for him because he really is a crazy talented musician and an ultra smart dude. Yea, there may be one or two others that I still need to love instead of envy but I’m trying AND learning. Happy to be where I am right now. That other place is way lonelier.
- Pat Monahan

I will get there someday. I don’t know how the hell I’ll do it, but I’m going to succeed or burn out trying. The only way it’s going to happen, though, is if I stop coveting the success of others and just enjoy the shows they produce. Turning envy into inspiration is not easy, but it’s the only way to keep it from eating you alive.

Amanda Palmer

Amanda Palmer

Honestly, the thing I enjoyed most about talking with Amanda was the fact that there’s a geek in there somewhere. She talked about the Moog Pedal Synth she’d ordered like she was a kid waiting for Santa to show up with her toys. I hope she plays barefoot like I do, ’cause that thing looks like a beast to work with. Aside from the gear lust, she explained how she uses URL shorteners like bit.ly to track links on Twitter- just like a lot of us geeks do. Again something that shouldn’t surprise me, but I figured an artist who “made it” before Myspace turned to shit wouldn’t have time for those kind of cutting-edge marketing tricks. If she’s my competition, I’m screwed.

Fortunately, she didn’t seem like competition. She had a personality that immediately puts people at ease, despite the “dark cabaret” image she maintains onstage. We had more in common than I thought: We’re both piano-rockers, we’re both Ben Folds fans, we’re both trying to use cutting edge technology to stay afloat, we both believe that your relationship with your fans is everything, we’re both strong women, and we’re both engaged to famous authors. Well, okay, maybe not all of that, but in many ways we’re running down the same path. She’s just a few miles ahead of me.

Ariel Hyatt

Ariel Hyatt

It took me a while to realize that Ariel and I share a common goal: to make it possible for 100% independent artists to earn a decent living from their craft. Granted, it’s something of a self-serving goal for me given that I am an independent artist, but I aways try to help other musicians who are a few steps behind me. Ariel’s made a career out of helping others reach their goals in an impossibly crowded marketplace.

The most memorable thing she said on Tuesday was something I’d known for a while but couldn’t put my finger on: Her book and her approach to PR wasn’t about making noise for her clients. Yeah, she’ll get blog mentions and write-ups for the bands that pay her to do so, but her book Music Success in Nine Weeks (affiliate link) has nothing to do with music. It’s a how-to guide to running a successful small business. In a world where everyone’s selling fish, she’s selling rods and lures and teaching people to be self-sufficient (suf-fish-ent?). I will always respect people who expand the capabilities of others rather than simply capitalizing on their shortcomings.

Ted Cohen

Somewhere in a world full of coincidences there is a God who keeps placing me in front of truly interesting people. One of those interesting people is Ted Cohen. I only met him once at 140 Characters NYC earlier this year, but even then he was instantly personable. To this day I am amazed when people who have every reason to be full of themselves… well, aren’t. If I had a resumé that included working with Prince, Van Halen, Fleetwood Mac, and so on, I’d probably have a head so large I’d have to drive a convertible. For all I can perceive, though, Ted’s just this guy, you know?

As someone who never got a chance to hang with the industry in-crowd, it’s fun to watch Ted work. Almost immediately after meeting the guy, he’s a friend. He’s showing pictures, sharing personal details, joking with you like you’re old college buddies. In an industry where everyone’s got an “image” side and a “real” side, this guy doesn’t seem to have time for a bullshit façade.

That’s something important, too. Fans don’t have time for bullshit either. Maybe in the 80′s when Rock Stars were untouchable heroes you could expect a personality that they unzip and hang in a closet when they get home. These days, especially with the ubiquity of social media, there is no image but reality. Fans want to support talent and personality, not a fairy tale. They want interaction with a real person. Just like Ted said from our panel:

You have to be timely, you have to respect your audience.

There is no disrespect like pretending to be something you’re not. Sure, you can play a role like an actor from time to time, but if you’re not real most of the time you’re just a phony. Ted, like his advice suggests, is real, he just lets his credentials speak for themselves.

Jeff Pulver

I didn’t get to see Jeff much during this event, but I hope I can see him again. Man, that guy is down to earth. Big or small, his events are always fun and I hope everyone I invited to participate in the Music Panel had as much fun as I did!

Video courtesy of Steve Garfield

Me, Ted, Amanda, and Ariel

Honestly, though, what makes social media events like this fun aren’t really the events. It’s the socializing. Getting to talk about indie music promotion with Ariel is always a highlight. Hearing stories of touring with Van Halen and Prince and the like from Ted Cohen never gets old. And Amanda Palmer? Yeah, she’s as groovy as I anticipated. Busiest woman I’ve ever seen, though, she’s literally the CEO of her own company just like me. Her business is significantly larger, though, so I can see why she needs caffeine. What we talked about on stage mirrored what was happening backstage: Talk to people online, Don’t just promote shit, actually converse. If you’re not interacting with your fans as a human being, you’re not interacting with your fans.

Me and Derrick

The dinner afterwards sealed the day perfectly. NY Times best-selling author Julien Smith sponsored this indie rocker’s meal that night, and man am I grateful. I got to spend the final hours of the day talking with friends like CC Chapman, Chris Penn, Chel Pixie (who organized the dinner), Jeffrey Sass and his aspiring-rock-star son, and more. These kind of people create a notable change in conversation every time I’m around them. I’m usually among folks who create or manage technology- networking, storage, programming, etc. -but the people I ate dinner with are a different kind of cutting edge. They don’t make the tools, they use them in ways nobody else imagines. It’s refreshing to hear from people who are paving new roads using the toys that my other friends are crafting. It’s a hell of a perspective and I’m thankful for the opportunity to see all sides of the picture.

So here’s to the con-goers at 140 Characters. I hope to see you all next year!

As seen, heard, and read on WBUR

That idea doesn’t sit well with everyone, including Boston musician and rock critic Dave Wildman. “I don’t know, it freaks me out,” he says with a laugh. Wildman likens Ebel to a talented street performer on the information super highway.
WBUR.org

It’s success if that’s what he wanted, definitely. If not…then no, he’s still got more work to do.

My guess? Dude still has a lot more work to do.
Justin Boland, comment on Hypebot.com

These two comments, though lamentably myopic, are understandable. Believe me, I can level with these opinions by making only one assumption: Their definition of “success” is stuck in the coke-filled limousine of Motley Crue, 1985.

Back then, a “successful” musical act played to hundreds of thousands of screaming fans in any venue the bus rolled up to. Anything less wasn’t worthy of a mention by a VJ on MTV, let alone the envy of aspiring musicians around the globe.

Fast-forward to damn-near-2010 and see where that definition of “success” has left the music industry. The big-production high-overhead “success” acts are barely staying afloat through flagging CD and online sales while the record labels try to own more and more of the artist’s work. So far only one forward-thinking group of industry insiders has put their finger on the pulse of the problem:

For the past 50 years the Artist business has been fractured with multiple competing interests. A) Record Companies whose main interest was the exploitation of the artists recorded music (masters). B) Publishers whose interests are similar but share in mostly the same income pot as the Record Labels. C) Live concert promoters, focused on selling concert tickets and sponsorships. D) Merchandisers mostly focused on selling various clothing and souvenirs at concerts and traditional retail.

Mixed in with all this you have Business Managers, Lawyers, Agents and Artist Managers whose roles are to not only coordinate the Artists schedules and business strategies but also have all of the above parties cooperate with each other.
Terry McBride, founder of Nettwerk and co-founder of Polyphonic

So given the current state of the economy, the music business, and technology, this leaves us with the million-Euro question: What is Success in the Music Business? I believe it is the same success that has driven Apple since day one… profit. If a music act can continue to bring in more money than it spends, it’s a success.

Take it a step further and we arrive at the crux of my definition of success as an artist: If you can remain profitable and grow as a business, you are not a success– you are a series of successes. Every step up is another success, a bigger success, and another bit of weight to add to the momentum like Katamari Damacy building the moon.

1. I released self-produced albums. Success.
2. I backed up a star at the Grand Ole Opry. Success.
3. I no longer need a “day job”. Success.
4. I have thousands of fans in more than a dozen countries. Success.
5. I no longer need to play shitty 4-hour Journey-and-Bon-Jovi-laden bar gigs to pay my rent. Success like you wouldn’t believe it.
6. Update: I just got mentioned in Amanda F*cking Palmer’s blog. Success, if only ’cause she rocks.

Is Mr. Boland correct? Absolutely. I am only beginning this journey and God only knows where it will lead me. Am I where I want to be? Yes… but not where I’ll want to be tomorrow. That means I can’t rest on some deflated view of “success”, I have to move forward. Am I a failure because I don’t own a private jet powered by strippers and hundred dollar bills? Absolutely not.

We are only failures if we subject ourselves to the narrow limitations of others. I choose to be a success.