Neither I, nor my webhost could manage to get my domain and Blogger to talk to each other. So, before I get too mired in Blogger, I've taken everything over to Wordpress and a proper domain.
Hop over to Words & Guitars and we'll continue the party over there!
Thursday, 28 November 2013
Tuesday, 19 November 2013
Why New Artists Should Forget About Publicity
"We're a new independent record label from XXX and represent X
exciting artists. .. Our first release came out earlier this month. Could you kindly forward me the address to email the download link, EPK etc to?
We look forward to informing you of our new artists."
exciting artists. .. Our first release came out earlier this month. Could you kindly forward me the address to email the download link, EPK etc to?
We look forward to informing you of our new artists."
Here's the sad truth. Not only will I probably not reply to that email, most days I wouldn't even open it.
Is this a terrible abdication of my responsibility as a champion of new music? A slap in the face of hard-working artists and labels who are just looking for a break?
One of the biggest issues facing the music press is simply the sheer amount of new music being created and published. Unlike the traditional print press, web-based outlets aren't as constrained by page counts and the like but, nevertheless, there are a fixed number of hours in the day and a limit to how much fresh content we can upload; there's little point in someone toiling over an article simply for it to be unceremoniously shunted from the front page after a few hours by yet more content.
At some point I will take some time to detail how I think new artists can - and should - secure coverage online, but for the moment I do question the value of anyone taking a scattergun approach to promotion by firing off a load of emails and hoping a few stick. Whether you go DIY or hire a professional PR, you're still faced with the problem of being just another no-name in a creaking inbox full of similar-looking emails. It doesn't matter how you dress up the subject line, I probably haven't heard of you and, as a result, you're basically the musical equivalent of a couple of Jehovah's Witnesses rapping on my front door.
'But what if we're the next Nirvana, Adele, Arctic Monkeys?!' you cry. Well, we'll just have to live with that missed opportunity.
Good stuff has its own way of getting noticed. Concentrate on being good and you won't need to send out the begging letters - it'll be us knocking on your door.
Monday, 18 November 2013
Why I Am Not A Writer
I am not a writer.
If I was a writer I would write. I would fill notebooks with uh ... notes and be itching to fire up the laptop in order to get the words down onto the page. I would burn with a desire to tell stories, put the world to rights and basically tell the world that I exist and that my opinions matter.
For a while, I thought maybe writing was my calling. My thing. But the more I thought about it - and the less time I actually spent putting finger to key - the more I realised I just didn't have the sense of drive that real writers have. Nowadays, the only thing calling me, siren-like, is the chip shop.
The vast majority of those who knock on The Music Fix's door professing a wish to contribute are not writers either. Or at least that's the impression they give. This can be frustrating when the intention is to find people who'll give us decent copy, stuff that people might want to read. If all you want is the occasional freebie or gig pass, there's no urgency or passion to your work or sense that you need do much more than is necessary to secure the next free gift.
Some of those who get in touch are journalism students, yet give no real impression of actually wanting to write. (By 'wanting to write' I mean pestering me for gigs or banging down the door for albums to cover.) Strikes me whatever they're teaching at the nation's universities and colleges, it isn't a grasp of the graft that's necessary in an industry so cutthroat it makes Sweeney Todd seem like Florence Nightingale.
But I can't be too dismissive. Like I said, I am not a writer either.
However, if you consider yourself to be a writer, here's my advice: write.
If I was a writer I would write. I would fill notebooks with uh ... notes and be itching to fire up the laptop in order to get the words down onto the page. I would burn with a desire to tell stories, put the world to rights and basically tell the world that I exist and that my opinions matter.
For a while, I thought maybe writing was my calling. My thing. But the more I thought about it - and the less time I actually spent putting finger to key - the more I realised I just didn't have the sense of drive that real writers have. Nowadays, the only thing calling me, siren-like, is the chip shop.
The vast majority of those who knock on The Music Fix's door professing a wish to contribute are not writers either. Or at least that's the impression they give. This can be frustrating when the intention is to find people who'll give us decent copy, stuff that people might want to read. If all you want is the occasional freebie or gig pass, there's no urgency or passion to your work or sense that you need do much more than is necessary to secure the next free gift.
Some of those who get in touch are journalism students, yet give no real impression of actually wanting to write. (By 'wanting to write' I mean pestering me for gigs or banging down the door for albums to cover.) Strikes me whatever they're teaching at the nation's universities and colleges, it isn't a grasp of the graft that's necessary in an industry so cutthroat it makes Sweeney Todd seem like Florence Nightingale.
But I can't be too dismissive. Like I said, I am not a writer either.
However, if you consider yourself to be a writer, here's my advice: write.
Talk About Pop Music
Through some strange alchemy, I managed to wrest control of the Editorial desk over at The Music Fix a few years back.
After a few tours of duty in the trenches, and spotting the need for some kind of Jim Jones figure to oversee the motley band of volunteer contributors who wrote for the site, I seized my chance in a mostly bloodless coup. Truth told, the site was - and remains - nothing without everyone who has helped over the years, and it only survives because our small team (significantly smaller that other similar sites) continue to give up their time to deliver a regular diet of album and gig reviews, features and news reports from the no-man's land of pop, rock and nearly everything else in between. My job, for the most part, is just maintaining some kind of momentum, picking up the occasional slack and doing my best to represent the brand to most of the PRs, labels and artists that we work with.
Given that enviable role, why the need for another outlet?
Well, I've always been interested in the process and politics of writing about music, and while some of the hand-wringing about its future has waned, its value and currency remains a hot topic. A few years ago, it was all about how blogging was going to make more traditional forms of curation and analysis redundant, or how always-on streaming negated the need for criticism. That hasn't really happened, primarily I think because blogs tend to be personal efforts and the long-term commitment to keeping a blog running is too much for many people. It's the same reason why most fanzines never got past the third issue. And while the various streaming services certainly allow the listener to browse and explore new music, as with sport say, there's still a lot of pleasure to be had from talking about stuff with friends or reading some well-argued analysis.
People are not going to stop debating and writing about music. The long-term circulation drop of music magazines has yet to level out and many once-active websites are now gathering virtual dust, but it's fairly clear the pursuit is unlikely to completely disappear. It will find new guises and ways of working - even if making a career as a music journalist becomes an increasingly difficult ambition.
So Words and Guitars is about music writing, the challenges it faces, the people doing interesting work and some insight into the process - from the decidedly less glamorous end of the market. I'll probably have a moan about woeful album streams and creaking inboxes full of 'news' that's of interest to no-one along the way.
I have a role and responsibilities over at TMF. W&G is distinct, and while some of what I'll be writing about stems from my experiences there, it's not meant to reflect the thoughts or opinions of the good folk there or the wider Digital Fix network.
After a few tours of duty in the trenches, and spotting the need for some kind of Jim Jones figure to oversee the motley band of volunteer contributors who wrote for the site, I seized my chance in a mostly bloodless coup. Truth told, the site was - and remains - nothing without everyone who has helped over the years, and it only survives because our small team (significantly smaller that other similar sites) continue to give up their time to deliver a regular diet of album and gig reviews, features and news reports from the no-man's land of pop, rock and nearly everything else in between. My job, for the most part, is just maintaining some kind of momentum, picking up the occasional slack and doing my best to represent the brand to most of the PRs, labels and artists that we work with.
Given that enviable role, why the need for another outlet?
Well, I've always been interested in the process and politics of writing about music, and while some of the hand-wringing about its future has waned, its value and currency remains a hot topic. A few years ago, it was all about how blogging was going to make more traditional forms of curation and analysis redundant, or how always-on streaming negated the need for criticism. That hasn't really happened, primarily I think because blogs tend to be personal efforts and the long-term commitment to keeping a blog running is too much for many people. It's the same reason why most fanzines never got past the third issue. And while the various streaming services certainly allow the listener to browse and explore new music, as with sport say, there's still a lot of pleasure to be had from talking about stuff with friends or reading some well-argued analysis.
People are not going to stop debating and writing about music. The long-term circulation drop of music magazines has yet to level out and many once-active websites are now gathering virtual dust, but it's fairly clear the pursuit is unlikely to completely disappear. It will find new guises and ways of working - even if making a career as a music journalist becomes an increasingly difficult ambition.
So Words and Guitars is about music writing, the challenges it faces, the people doing interesting work and some insight into the process - from the decidedly less glamorous end of the market. I'll probably have a moan about woeful album streams and creaking inboxes full of 'news' that's of interest to no-one along the way.
I have a role and responsibilities over at TMF. W&G is distinct, and while some of what I'll be writing about stems from my experiences there, it's not meant to reflect the thoughts or opinions of the good folk there or the wider Digital Fix network.
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