That Tiresome "Youth" Demographic

So, there's a "progressive" political action group called Music for America, and I get their newsletter and had gotten some good feedback on their forum about a song on my first album called Mountains to Flatten, Valleys to Fill. I got a newsletter from them the other day about their board being changed. Here's what their homepage said:

MFA is doing some very serious restructuring after our very serious victory in the '06 elections. We're happy to say that our organization is now 100% young-people-run.

We're very serious. Meet our new board of directors, all under 30: Molly Neitzel, Dan Droller and hot-pants-selling superstar Dan Lipski. Please be patient with us as we wrangle them doggies, get the check book balenced [sic] and bang our heads against the legal.

So I wrote to them and asked why the "under 30" limiter. Were they going to take it all the way and ensure their board was all of a certain height, weight, skin hue and net worth? They wrote back and said their niche was "young people" and I shouldn't have a problem with that; it also didn't exclude people over-30 from supporting them. I wrote back that I thought their mission in the past had been to reach disaffected voters through music, without an explicit call for youth or "under 30." They didn't write back again.

I asked my youngest brother, who is under 30, if he thought this was a wise marketing move. Was I just being sensitive because I'd suddenly been booted from this new "under-30" club? If it were designated "under 40" would I have a different attitude? He felt it was a stupid decision and a pointless target market. "Once I went for a job interview," he said, "and the guy who interviewed me and everyone I saw at the company was just out of college. I thought, where are the adults here? I don't want to work with a bunch of kids. Where's the experience?"

Ultimately, it's their choice to target their market any way they like. At Grace Cathedral, where I'm a soloist for the Sunday night 6 pm service, they always announce the "20s and 30s" group, and it has always made me a bit uncomfortable. I know why they need it--people in their 20s and 30s don't go to church that much, as a rule. But I feel bad for the folks who aren't in the demographic.

In music, there's often concern that one's work must appeal to the "right" kind of people. These may be punks, or "tweens," or intellectuals, or ballroom dancers, or jazz critics, or young urban professionals. This happens at every level of the business, from total obscurity to megastar. Why do we trip on these labels?

I'm not very good at the "see and be seen" aspect of marketing oneself (though I did go out recently to a great artist's gig at my brother's urging and felt it was both inspiring and a good networking venture). And while I'm not a social butterfly, one result of my 15 years as a journalist is that I can pretty much talk to anyone. Sometimes I almost feel more comfortable with people I don't know than those I do. I've noticed when I go to music camps and conferences that people tend to form and cling to cliques--even in the supportive environment of jazz lovers or software developers. I'd rather flit around doing my own thing, whether that means jamming with a 16-year-old heavy metal guitarist in the wee hours, listening to a wizened drummer's tales from the road or learning how robots can mimic human expression.

These days, media saturation means we hear the labels all the time. It's like high school, all over again: Who's wearing what. Who's going with whom. Who's got the most money. Who's got the nicest car. I'm tired of the trite demographics. Do you have a brain, hands, eyes and/or ears? Are you a living creature, bipedal or not? Then I like you, just the way you are.

Permission to Create

Yesterday I managed to squeeze in an afternoon run in the woods with the dogs while I paid my cousin to watch my kids for a few hours. On my route there is a house that is a feat of engineering, perched on the top of a hill they lopped off so that it can overlook the park canyon (I watched it being built over a year so I saw what it took to put it there). I thought how nice it must be to have all that space, all those windows and decks so artfully arranged at the edge of the wilderness. It also appears to have a studio of sorts, a glorious atrium I found myself coveting.

Then I realized that I do have a studio/office of my own. For years, it was an extra bedroom, until I read a passage in Julia Cameron's The Artist's Way (recommended by Wayne) about setting aside a space for your art, be it a window sill, table, corner or entire room. I literally had not given myself permission to have that space--even though no one else was using it, and we didn't have children yet. I had my cockatiels in there at the time, making a huge mess, but other than that, I owned it. We built a huge cage for the birds outside and bit by bit this room became a studio, a place where I allow myself to be a musician and writer. But it took being laid off from my job last year for me to allow myself to support my family through my creativity. For exactly a decade, I said I would never leave my great corporate job--with it we bought our house, had healthcare and access to new technology, traveled internationally and saved for retirement. I worried it would be impossible to survive without that bimonthly financial guarantee.

Now that I am living my dream as a working musician, I hear lots of negativity from other musicians, and I see first-hand the difficulties we face. This is a tough field, with lots of peculiar pitfalls. I dealt with rampant cynicism in the corporate world, too. I don't have time for it anymore, in any field. It's ironic--in corporate America, the money is plentiful, yet you still see every bizarre wrinkle of human behavior. Society tells us that sitting at a desk as an "information worker" is a respectable choice. Using our brains, bodies and souls to create and share intricate tapestries of sound is frivolous.

Seven years ago, I gave myself permission to create, here in this room. I am grateful to those who encouraged me on the way.

Two Articles Up on DevX.com

In my ongoing work for DevX.com, I'm now opining on the Intel-sponsored portal designed to promote software developer interest in parallel programming, or concurrent programming, to take advantage of the new multicore chips. Check out two articles of mine, and please feel free to comment in the forum.

Here's the main portal, where you can find my current article, "Why OpenMP is Not Enough."

My first article made use of the hours spent with my audio engineer, Gary. Initially I named it "Plates of Spaghetti Demand Utensils," (seriously, that's what I called it--but it tied-in to the deck, or article summary). Not surprisingly, that piece got very few hits over December. However, brilliant marketer that I am, I renamed it enticingly: "Where Concurrency Tools Go, Developers Dare to Tread." Now things are looking up again!

Blog Tag

OK, Alan Zeichick tagged me so... I'm supposed to reveal things about myself that no one knows? Ah, I already share lots of personal things on this blog, even though it's intended to promote my music and writing careers (see, blogging's not about vanity, it's about economics). OK, and I do enjoy editorializing, since I've been paid to do so for the last 15 years, and it's good to keep the wheels greased. However, I avoid things that I think are too personal or perhaps invasive of the privacy of my kids, as well as politics since I think there are enough blogs on that topic, and reading them would be hell for me. So what can I share? Let's see...

Five Things You May Not Know About Me

1. I've never missed voting in an election.

2. Press conferences make me nervous.

3. I'm not a good student (I share that one with Larry O'Brien).

4. I have no sense of smell.

5. I love oysters (perhaps due to number 4?).

OK, so I'm tagging Rick Wayne!

Good Reviews of "Use Me" and "Afro Blue"!

Here's a quote from a nice review by Dan McClenaghan (AllAboutJazz.com) of Wayne's album, The Reckless Search for Beauty:

Bill Withers' rhythm and blues hit “Use Me” features a saucy, picante vocal by Alexa Weber Morales, mixing English and Spanish lyrics. Mongo Santamaria's “Afro Blue” gets modernized with a deep bass groove and some soaring synth work in front of a multiple-bata rhythm section and a passionate, smooth-toned lead vocal by Alexa Weber Morales again, flying over lush harmonies. Duke Ellington's “Chromatic Love Affair” is done in a more mainstream mode; Murray Lowe provides a sparkling Duke-like piano behind Wallace's beautifully laid-back trombone solo and whispering flute.

More Radio Play, Thanks to IAJE!

Here's how it works: You meet DJs and you have nice conversations and then you hand them your CD and say you'd love for them to play it, as you didn't pay for a radio promotion campaign and you have a fear of post offices so you've got to personally hand them out. If you're lucky, they do play them when they get home, and then they write something like this:

"When I play four of your songs and I get calls from my audience (unrequested phone calls), I know that you have managed to reach some emotional chords with my public. You are good and you make me look good so thank you and congratulations, keep up with the good work. We have an interview pending in the near future."
--Luis Campos, WDIY 88.1 FM, Bethlehem, PA

But that's not all! A listener from that station then wrote me the sweetest note:

Hi, I listen to WDIY out of Bethlehem PA, and last evening on Luis Campos program "Latin Jazz," I heard your "All Blues"--so nice. The arrangement is so fine. The bata drumming is captivating--at a loss for words. So thank you for your presence--it lingers on.

Sure enough, he bought my CD and now CD Baby tells me I'm one short of being out of stock. So, I guess I've got to overcome my fear of post offices and mail a bunch more. Yay!

Our Car Camping Trek: The Whales in Baja California

We left on Wednesday, December 27, at 2:30 pm. Of course, it took hours to pack, to prepare the animals and leave instructions for the pet sitters, to clean the front porch, to find the gear we wanted and to make it fit into our trusty Toyota Rav 4 (El Minimúsculo). We headed down Highway 5 and after a couple hours got off in search of a campground I saw marked on one of my old maps, near the state Tule Elk Preserve. We drove in darkness—the trouble with winter camping—and finally came to the preserve. Day use only. By luck we found a campground a few miles away at Lake Buenavista. The next morning, we drove back to the wildlife preserve. Wow. These are really big elk (smaller than Roosevelt elk, however, which you can see at Redwood State Park up north).

What a story of survival: They outwitted the Spaniards, but near extinction was due to the Gold Rush (in two years they were hunted until there was just one pair left) and agricultural modifications to the marsh habitat to which they retreated in order to escape hunters and farmers. They are resilient animals, but that also makes them hard to herd or put to pasture. Apparently, they are fed supplemental hay because they need so much more space than they have—in fact, according to the preserve, the long-term plan is to move them elsewhere. We were the first visitors in two months. The ranger was away, but the groundskeeper asked if we’d like to go drive into the pasture and get a closer look, so we did. I breastfed the baby while we drove slowly down the dirt road to see the cows, who stay away from the bulls.

Next we checked out Carrizo Plains National Monument, a vast open space in the Central Valley with antelope (but probably no elk—there are only three herds of Tule Elk in various Central California parks). It was freezing cold, arid and empty. I’m always in search of camping spots where few dare to tread—I think if you want to be alone, this is an excellent spot. We turned around after 10 miles on the dirt road, determined to make it to San Diego instead. I’d like to come back in the future and see some antelope, though.

We stayed the night in San Diego with my brother Peter and his girlfriend Renée, and the next day we went to the beach and the San Diego Zoo. That night, Emilio and I started to get the hang of Dance Dance Revolution, the computer game René has at home. Then, on Saturday, Peter and Renée accompanied us to Ensenada, Baja California, where we window shopped and ate some great seafood (sopa de siete mares, yummmm) at the fish market. They drove back home, while we found an R.V. park near La Bufadora. It was still rather cold, and we were the only folks in a tent with a baby, but in the morning we collected shells on the shabby beach and congratulated ourselves on our first time ever camping in Mexico.

That day we drove several more hours, to the Old Mill in San Quintin. Sebastian made fast friends with some boys who lived nearby and we all roasted marshmallows. It was New Year’s Eve, so I was worried things might get crazy. Just after dusk, we heard a car barrelling down the dirt road for several miles. It turned into the area where we were camping, headlights off, and spun in the dirt before parking. Emilio and I voiced the same fear: Were we going to be run over in the middle of the night? Emilio moved the car in front of the tent, creating an obstacle for any drunk drivers. At midnight people were setting off firecrackers nearby and at 5 a.m. they were singing drinking songs, but no one approached the lone tent. In the morning Sebastian and his new friend David traded toys (a football for a car) and we set out for our goal, Guerrero Negro.

We stopped at a beautiful spot on the highway for a delicious breakfast (eggs with shredded carne seca, huevos rancheros, instant coffee with lots of milk and sugar and fried potatoes, which are common in Baja. The food was so good, we timed our return trip to come back and sample more of the doña's cooking.) We drove 8 hours that day, arriving at Laguna Ojo de Liebre in the night and finding a gorgeous palapa waiting for us! Setting up the tent was easy with the palapa blocking the wind and a full moon to light our way. Once we bedded down, the coyotes started their eerie crying, and kept it up until dawn.

In the morning we inquired about boating out to see the whales. They said there were only five to 10 grey whales in the lagoon at this point, but that we’d see some anyway (apparently in February there are around 2,000). Sebastian and I went first, while Emilio drove into town to wash clothes with the baby. We saw some whales early on, spouting, but I didn’t get any pictures. They were always far away and didn’t resurface, though, so we ended up spending over 4 hours searching (although during that time we saw groups of dolphins several times, including a pair diving under our boat and arcing up on the other side!). Then we suddenly came close to a pair. The first thing we saw was the behavior where they stick their head straight out of the water, perhaps to look around. Then they blew several times and flipped their tails. We loved the salt water on our faces during the boat ride back.

Later that day, Emilio went out with Sebastian. In less than an hour they saw two whales and the guide told them to call them to the boat by splashing their hands in the water. The whale came close and then dove under the boat with his flipper exposed. The guide said “Reach down and touch it!” to Emilio but Emilio only stuck his arm a little ways into the water. Afterwards he said he felt almost like crying, to have seen these creatures after having read about the preserve in the magazine Mexico Desconocido and seen it on TV.

I’m so happy Sebastian is old enough to remember this experience. We all talked about what we felt when we saw the whales: Fear that they’d flip over our boat, insecurity at being out in the open water far from land, awe at their size, wonder at their curiosity in us. Emilio was a bit chagrined that he hadn’t touched it. The guide had told him it was a pity I hadn’t seen them as close up as they had, but I’m more than satisfied. When you see the whales, it’s like getting a glimpse of the watery world that is as foreign to us as outer space.

In sum, it was probably the smoothest vacation we’ve ever had: We operated as a well-oiled family camping machine, we saw lots of wildlife (elk, coyotes, dolphins, sea eagles), we ate great food, our boys were marvelously patient car travelers, I didn’t think once about work (musical or editorial) and we finally got to see Baja and the whales!

P.S. If you’re thinking about going, now is the time to see many more whales than we did!

IAJE in Review

Here are some more highlights from my four days in New York attending the International Association of Jazz Educators:

The "Musicians as Entrepreneurs" class was a good reminder that I need to spruce up my bookeeping skills. Things are not quite up to par around here.

I met Will Calhoun, formerly of In Living Colour, and gave him my CD. I also met Paoli Mejias, Grammy-nominated latin jazz percussionist, and John Benitez, Grammy-winning latin jazz/salsa bassist. Gave them all CDs. Seeing that I gave away 21 CDs in all, I'm obviously just skimming the surface of naming whom I met. I've been getting lots of follow up emails since I got back, and I gots to do the same!

Kenny Werner's class on "Playing from the Space" was great, albeit way too short at less than an hour. Here are some nuggets:

"One day at a time is a good way to practice."

"Art asks questions. Everyone on TV is answering questions, not asking."

"When thy eye be single, thy sight be divine."

"In the real world, there's good and evil. In music, they're just slightly different chords."

"In music, spirituality climbs on the shoulders of sensuality--of saying thank you."

"People think Effortless Mastery is about not practicing--they say, well, Kenny says I should just accept where I am now and not practice. No. It's about practicing to the point of mastery. Nothing's worth playing until it's just spilling out of you. I practiced playing in 5 and in 7 until it was totally free."

"The biggest joke about free music is that people try to play it correctly."

"Even just a page of music can be overwhelming when you sit down to practice. If that's so, look for two bars, or the smallest point you can start with."

"Swim the whole universe of music and just laugh."

The entire clinic is archived on his website, apparently.

What else. Oh, I liked the "Sing along with Ella" class. We learned her solo to Take the A Train, as well as some keys to her style--she was a fan of the Boswell Sisters growing up. The teacher, Amy London, played some snippets of the Boswell Sisters, who were really swinging!

I met many many people: musicians, festival bookers, DJs, PR agents. I got to say thanks and get a hug from Mark Ruffin, who had so kindly enthused about my CD on the air after I handed it to him at the 2004 IAJE. He said he was looking forward to the next one!

We went out to S.O.B.'s and saw what turned out to be a historic night: Manny Oquendo and Libre, with 76-year-old timbalero Oquendo telling us this was his last gig. I danced without stopping, and had a blast. Then, our last night in town, we all went up to Harlem to eat soul food at the world famous Sylvia's. It was delicious comfort food! After that we took a picture in front of the Apollo Theater (where Ella was discovered) and took the subway back.

Finally, I was proud of myself for taking the E Train and then the AirTrain to JFK--only $7, and faster than the Supershuttle on the way into town had been.

Report from Jazz Central in Times Square

I won't be able to write much, but I'm here in New York City basking in the culture and glory at the annual International Association of Jazz Educators conference with 8,000 jazz adherents.

Highlights from yesterday:

Singer Sheila Jordan to the packed audience just before singing "Look for the silver lining": "Don't give up now. Why stop now? If you stop now you'll never get it back. I don't care, if you're a woman, if you have to have 20 kids--just don't stop making music." Brought tears to my eyes. She also made a beautiful comment about being just a messenger for the music at this stage in her career (I don't want to guess her age but I'd say she's been around the sun 70 times or more).

Singer Rhiannon brought the house down and really made me cry. Her voice and soul are incredible. Makes me have tremendous hope that I still have many decades ahead of me, and they don't have to be ones filled with diminishing returns. Her power is greater than ever, and the communication with the band was seamless. That word is way inadequate but I don't have time to think of another. Her drummer was Greg Hutchinson, a young cat with cornrows and an intense gaze. Jon Benitez played bass and sang! I went up and met both of them afterwards.

Grammy-nominated Taylor Eigsti and his band--wow wow wow!!! Taylor is a young phenom and so were the other cats. He plays synth with his left hand and piano with his right on some tunes (he did a version of a song by Bjork from the movie Dancer in the Dark). He also played piano strings a bit. The drummer was Erik Harland. Never seen someone play with as many colors and as much balletic grace as he did. Bass was Reuben Rogers, smiling and emoting all the way, and guitar was Julian Lage, who did a tour de force middle eastern solo intro to Caravan. Sounded like he was playing an oud or something!

There was a session on producing Miles Davis, filled with hilarious stories from his producers I'll try to share another time. Guess you can never have enough recounting of Miles's eccentricities.

Then we went to see Wicked. This is the 5th Broadway show I've seen since I first came to New York in 1999 (Chicago, Rent, Swing, Spamalot)--oh, almost forgot I saw The Vagina Monologues a few years ago here too, with Hayley Mills and Joie Lee. I'm pretty proud I've made the splurge that many times!

Other than that I'm totally scrimping. McDonald's has breakfast for $2.27. Lunch is water and a sandwich. Last night's entree was $16 at a fancy restaurant with really crappy food (Azalea--don't go there). Thankfully I didn't drink anything. I only ate half of the bad food. Finally, I'm sharing a matchbox/room at the Milford Plaza, a fine establishment with elevators that have at least 50% guaranteed uptime. And we're adding a third roomy tonight!

Tonight we're going to see Manny Oquendo and Libre at SOB's--I'm thrilled to see a real NYC salsa club--can't wait to dance dance dance!

Back from Baja, Off to the Big Apple

We did it! We left on December 27 and got back on the 5th, driving 2,250 miles (!) to Guerrero Negro to see the gray whales coming into Laguna Ojo de Liebre in Baja California, camping all the way. Wow, what a sight! My boys are great travelers--we all get along great when we camp.

I'm also gearing up to go to New York City and attend the International Association of Jazz Educators conference next week.

Oh, and I'm also reading a great addictive new series my dad gave me, Larry McMurtry's Berrybender Narratives. I guess I miss the camping--I've been reading it in bed with a flashlight since we got back...

The Long Tail on the Decline of the Hit Album

In author Chris Anderson's ongoing chronicle of the fall of blockbuster media empires in a broadband world, here's a note about 2006's poor showing in record album sales, apparently the worst in 16 years.
The comments on this post are worth reading, too..