All you English, Philosophy, Music, Art, or Theater majors can say it with me. On three, ready? One… Two…

So you’re getting a Music degree, eh? You going to be a music teacher?

I thank God that I never grew so frustrated with that question as to shout back, “no, I’m actually learning this shit because I intend to use it.” It seems unfathomable to most people that a degree in anything but Engineering, Business, Law, or Medicine could ever be used for a wage-earning skill other than teaching that skill to others. I didn’t take more than two decades of piano lessons just so I could be another part-time piano teacher.

Photo by Peter Alfred Hess

Do people ask Education majors if they plan to teach other aspiring teachers about how to teach? That concept just seems too recursive for me to focus on right now, so forget I even mentioned it.

My problem isn’t with the act of teaching; I have great respect for those with the patience and knowledge to make someone else smarter. Teaching anything requires a skill set I simply don’t possess and the great teachers wield it with all the skill of Stevie Ray Vaughan on a guitar. No, my frustration lies with the question itself. Roughly translated, it reads something like this:

So you’re getting an English degree, eh? You know you’ll never actually earn a living as a writer, so what’re you going to do to pay the bills? You going to be an English teacher?

There are a very small number of people who will become “famous” thanks to their artistic endeavors, but everyone has to earn a living. Those aspiring programmers I knew ended up in jobs ranging from network admins to gas station attendants. All of us have one simple task before us: Create something of value and earn compensation for it. Artists, for the most part, are entrepreneurs by definition. Everyone else can work for an established company and climb a ladder or start their own law firm or software company if they’re brave enough. The fact that no readily available corporate structure exists for artists (there is no mail room or reception desk for Philosophy majors) doesn’t mean they won’t earn a living from their art.

Don’t torpedo someone’s aspirations simply because you’re too narrow-minded to see their path to success.

If you find yourself confronted with a young artist and feel the urge to ask The Stupid Question, ask yourself a couple of questions first:

1. Are they getting an Education minor? If so, go ahead and ask, it’s no longer a stupid question.
2. What do I do for a living? How would I feel if people assumed the only way I’d be able to use my education was to teach it to others?
3. If everyone who got one of these degrees just taught English or Philosophy or whatever, who the hell is writing the books that I read? Who’s making the music I listen to?
4. Do I want a piano shoved up my ass? (This one’s really just something I wished people would’ve asked themselves before asking me this question in college.)

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.

Every so often it happens- I play for an audience that truly appreciates me. I see them mouthing the words as I sing them. I hear the unbridled laughter as someone, for the first time, discovers what the song Trees is about. I hear them requesting songs that I wrote or songs that they like my version of better than the original.

To me it does not matter the size of the assembled crowd. I would much rather play for these three people than a crowd of 300 incessantly requesting Bon Jovi or “Pour Some Sugar On Me.” I am not in this business to become a meat-based jukebox, I am an artist because I want to connect with people on a level that goes beyond a handshake.

If I can reach that level even for one person at a time, I am a success.

Photo by RoninOtter

All that being said, being hungry in the literal sense just gets old. There is a point at which “starving artist” changes from cute moniker to annoying fact of life. A working musician faces 12-hour days with a schedule that extends to 2am on weekends, usually for very little money and no job security. To have some corporate schmuck with a regular commute, a 401k, and a 2-beer lunch break treat you like some lazy hippie gets discouraging. Sometimes I think it’s sour grapes- that their hunger for something artistic or expressive has simply made them bitter.

Hunger, literally, sucks. But a spiritual hunger has led to some of the best work I’ve ever produced. Latté Days & Porter Nights is all about hunger (well, actually, thirst, but same idea). Hunger is the road sign that only the café on the horizon can satisfy. It is what keeps you driving, even if it’s an all-nighter with the band sleeping in the seats behind you.