Twelve Simple Steps to Indie Cred (excerpt)

02/02/2010 at 1:30 am | In General Nerdery, Just for Fun, Music | Leave a Comment

I’ve been taking a month or so at home to reflect, focus, and work on my Indie Cred.  I understand that Indie Cred, or “Independent Credibility,” is very important — I learned that from Jennifer Lopez, who writes so compellingly about still being from the block.  It is important to demonstrate to fans and colleagues that you have suffered an appropriate amount to deserve your carefree, indulgent, jet-setting independent musician lifestyle.  And it is also important not to appear to enjoy your life too much, to always wear a slightly stern and melancholy “genuine” Indie Musician Face.  It is also good to cultivate a “genuine” smell.  The Flight of the Conchords knows all about Indie Cred.  And after a year like this one, I could write a book on it, I swear.  I could sell it to other aspiring penniless musicians.  Here’s my premise for free, so nobody steal it:

You, too, can improve your Indie Cred in just twelve simple steps.  They worked for me!

1.  Sleep and work at strange hours, to maximize the probability that you’ll set your alarm for the wrong time.
2.  Be able to carry your entire recording studio, as well as several instruments, in one load.
3.  Do not record in the same place twice.  Use a converted bus, back rooms at the local church, remote sheds, strangers’ houses, and friends’ closets.  Keep your stalkers guessing.
4.  Get accustomed to sleeping in ambient air temperatures.  After a few weeks, forty degrees at night will not seem at all cold.
5.  Housesit. As. Frequently. As. Possible.
6.  When you don’t have the proper tools, improvise.  Use a violin instead of a synthesizer; use a flashlight covered with a trash bag instead of a follow spot; use your phone instead of a computer; use your oven instead of a heater; use your dead cat instead of a shaker.
7.  Walk the fine line between seeking approval and being a snob.  Don’t be on time for appointments, lest you look too eager, but also try to be stood up by important people as often as it is convenient.
8.  Know by heart the menus of all the hip restaurants in town at which a body can eat for less than $5 without seeming cheap.
9.  Be seen one day wearing very fancy clothing and makeup and the next looking haggard and worn from lack of sleep and makeup.  Imagine that this will surely get everyone talking about your Big Important Project and your Dedication.  Then remember that they actually don’t care. (Nobody Caring is a sure sign you have Indie Cred.)
10.  Perform work associated with at least ten different occupations daily.
11.  Wear holes in your clothing the old-fashioned way:  with wear.
12.  Showers = optional.

(But always know where your towel is.)

*********************************************************

This is an excerpt from an older blog entry of mine because this little segment wanted its own home to link to.  As I’m finishing a new album I find it bitingly pertinent once again.  Enjoy!

In Which You All Rock Whole Wheat Radio

01/22/2010 at 12:49 am | In How to this-or-that, Music, News & Explanations, Stories from Alaska | 11 Comments

So. Last week this thing happened, and it blew my mind and stuff.  Thought I’d share it with all y’all.

I played a concert at Whole Wheat Radio in Talkeetna, Alaska last Friday that streamed live around the globe.  This was my third appearance at Whole Wheat, and I’m becoming sort of a junkie for their online wiki radio station as well as their actual house concerts.  I’ll be driving up to hear Melissa Mitchell and Spiff Chambers there next month.  Talkeetna is pretty close to heaven on earth for a scenery/baked goods/music/bacon lover.

(Incidentally you can download Friday’s WWR concert, in its entirety, here, along with tons of other amazing acoustic concerts Jim and Esther have hosted at their cabin in the woods.  Free live music = good!  Get some!)

Lately I’m waist-deep in a massive recording project, so it’s been over a year since I’ve released any new music.  My Twitter and Facebook friend-fans remind me daily that I ought to provide more tuneage.  (Why is Twitter so awesome for musicians?  Because I can simply ask my listeners what they want, and they can tell me, in real time.  Also they can answer my questions about wireless routers and insult my Momma in real time.)

So at the WWR show, I decided to release a CD of raw-sounding live concert cuts.  I called it the Marian Call Bootleg CD.  It would be available for one night only.  In all of two hours I came up with the track list, advertised it on my many many social networks, and set up the sales mechanism online.  I snagged a spindle of blank CD’s to burn on my laptop, a few jewel cases, and I was good to go.  Presto!  The future is now.  The two-hour CD release is simple.

About twice a week I think, “Why don’t I try this crazy idea and see if it works?” about some element of my career.  With no label, no manager, and no inner voice of reason slow me down, I get to experiment all I want.  90% of my crazy ideas have to do with social networking — which I spend half a lifetime doing, despite the crap I take from my family and Real Life friends.  (Hey, some of us actually do bond over web comics, starship replicas, the fail whale, and photos of stuff on cats.)  Mostly my nutty ideas work just a little bit.  Some are epic failures.  But my experimental flopping and floundering inches me closer to the day when I’ll be totally financially independent as a full-time musician.  Plus it’s more fun than having a real job.

But every now and then a crazy idea works really really really good.  Bam!*

I planned to sell 20-40 of my little bootleg CD’s.  Silly me.  I sold well over 200.  My little stack of jewel cases looked so pathetic.

WholeWheatRadio.org broke every record for online listenership, CD sales, tips — everything.  The more listeners tuned in, the more tuned in, and the more money they gave, the more money they gave.  The crowd online was thrilled to be breaking WWR records.  I drove away from Talkeetna having earned about $4,000 in one night, with a new CD to produce in just a couple of days and an avalanche of e-mail and publicity requests to deal with.  Seldom have I been so happy and so panicked.

I ran home to Anchorage, got the disc commercially duplicated at a local joint that has helped me out before, printed up liner notes, and got busy stuffing and signing and smooching CD’s.  I went through more lipstick in two hours than I do in the average month.  I ran the discs up to Talkeetna, stopping along the way for a quick interview with Alaska Dispatch, and we tried to get them all mailed to their proper owners.  It was a helluva week for Jim Kloss of WWR and me.  (Thank you, Jim.)

Here’s a video from the concert, BTW, thanks to @akcook.  Punk mandolin and zombies.  We had muchly fun that night!

I can’t entirely explain this minor windfall.  I am certainly among the less “famous” artists Whole Wheat Radio has hosted.  Yet I can speak to one contributing factor, and some of you have asked me to, so here goes my little rant:

I spend SO. MUCH. TIME. playing with friends on the internet, particularly on Twitter and Facebook — and I believe there is value in cultivating real relationships with people online.  It’s an investment.  I’ll use that word again: I am genuinely invested in the lives of my friends online.  Not in selling online, not in promoting online, I’m invested in friends there.  (Doubters on this count need only meet folks who actually know me IRL.  I care.  For reals.  Pinky swear.)

Social networking doesn’t come easily to everyone, and I think that many musicians who find it difficult are trying to use it as a promotional tool.  It’s not.  I mean, it is, but — it’s not.  It’s correspondence, sharing, like being pen pals with thousands of strangers.  That’s both simpler and more fun than hacking away at a Facebook Fan Page that just won’t manifest any life or energy. What would you talk about with pen pals?  You wouldn’t send them a list of all your shows.  You’d tell them how your burnt your toast for breakfast and how the weather’s been kooky lately.  Because those silly details are 90% of what relationships are made of.  Social networks are notoriously frivolous and fluffy, because, well — we are.  Human beings are mostly held together by fluff.

Businesses and musicians that succeed at social networking are the ones who create community somehow.  There’s no trick to creating community:  just abide by the golden rule.  If you would be interesting, be interested.**  I spend as much time reading Twitter as writing on it, and that’s a rule that enriches my life.  If you want your online connections to care about your career/read your blog/comment on that Youtube video of your hamster, spend time doing that for them.  Visit their websites, blogs, photo albums once in a while.  I’m far from perfect at doing this, and I can never give all my online friends as much attention as I wish I could.  I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again:  I need a clone.

But all this time I’m “wasting” fuzting on the internet, investigating what my friends are doing, is the only way I can repay the favor of the attention they give me.  My listeners’ time is incredibly valuable, and they can spend it on a million things — any time they choose to spend on me is meaningful and ought to be honored and reciprocated, to the extent that’s possible on a scale of several thousand people.  That effort is what moves us beyond a vendor-consumer relationship.  I’m not in an independent singer-songwriter so I can vend to consumers.  Gag.***

It takes a lot of hours, but I’m more than paid back for the time I spend on social networking.  In cash-money a little, but in other forms of currency a LOT.  Attention is currency.  Friendship is currency.  Conversation is currency.  And as a traveling lonely musician, these mean a helluva lot more to me than money.  Being alone on the road for months is only bearable because when something funny or frustrating or beautiful happens, I can share it with thousands of people I’ve never met on Twitter.  And I can read thousands of 140-character true stories from other times and places and moods to remind me how small I am and how vast the world is.

That’s all I have to say about that.  I’m happy to share a success story, because I meet a lot of musicians who are having a hard time navigating the changing music business.  Often I’m one of them.  Thanks to those of you who participated in my magical Friday night.  The energy was amazing, your generosity was overwhelming, and I owe you everything.  Stick around and I’ll do what I can for you,  though I’ll never have enough hours or enough brain cells to catch up completely on giving you what you deserve.

Marian

Photo by Brian Adams. www.baphotos.com

*Said I, a Lady. FTB.

**Yes, I am quoting Nathan Fillion’s myspace page.  I learned a lot about social networking, online friendships, and healthy boundaries from that page.  Thanks Nathan & friends from that little corner of the internet.

***If you’re all like, “Marian owes me an e-mail or a favor from ages ago!” or “How come she never goes to my website?” Well, A) I’m trying so hard I promise, B) fanmail/fan favors are the hardest stuff to answer, and C) if you chat with me on Twitter/#FB semi-regularly then I’ll get there.  I follow 2,677 people on Twitter so I may not be entirely caught up on your life.  Especially if you change your avatar.  Also, D) I still need a clone, science.

It’s 2010! Let’s try something weird. Special Bootleg CD

01/09/2010 at 2:48 am | In How to this-or-that, Music, News & Explanations | 2 Comments
Tags:

So, I haven’t released any new music in a while, because I’m knee-deep in a new album while trying to perform enough to make a living.  But you guys are really amazing — I mean really amazing, you’ve proven your worth over and over — and I really, deeply want to give you more music, since it’s what you keep asking for.  As often as I can.  So!  In honor of my second full-length live-streaming concert at WholeWheatRadio.org (8pm-10pm AKST 1/8/10), I hereby declare:

TONIGHT ONLY –

from 8pm on 1/8/10 – 10am on 1/9/10  Alaska Standard Time

(that’s 9pm tonight to 11am tomorrow (1/9) PST)

(or midnight tonight to 2pm tomorrow (1/9) EST)

A special CD of Marian Call bootlegs will be available for $12.  This CD includes live cuts that have had a limited or private release, live cuts never before released, and a couple of preview tracks from the upcoming album (live cuts, not studio recordings, which will probably not be released in the future).

Order by CLICKING HERE after 8pm AKST and scrolling down.

Track List:

  1. Got to Fly (live at the Snow Goose) — the world premiere; first time ever in public
  2. Sugar Sugar Sugar (the gift shop of Wild Horse Rescue Ranch in Arizona) — preview from Something Fierce
  3. Vera Flew the Coop (Live at Whole Wheat Radio)
  4. I Wish I Were a Real Alaskan Girl (Snow Goose)
  5. Flying Feels Like (Lestat’s)
  6. Whistle While You Wait (Snow Goose)
  7. Good Old Girl (Live at Whole Wheat Radio)
  8. Dark Dark Eyes (live at Lestat’s)
  9. I’ll Still Be a Geek After Nobody Thinks It’s Chic (The Nerd Anthem) (Snow Goose)
  10. Fall Love (Whole Wheat Radio) — about bats. Bats aren’t bugs. Not scheduled for studio release, though I like it
  11. Highway Five (My Dad’s Living Room) — preview from Something Fierce, my next album
  12. Vanilla (with Commentary by Marian Call) — since I know you were wondering why I’m not sexy
  13. The Volvo Song (Lestat’s) — in which I forget the words; one of two times in over 300 performances
  14. I Think We’re Good (My Dad’s Living Room) — about springtime in Alaska. Not scheduled for studio release
  15. Never Did Catch Her Name (But She’s My Wife) (Basement Recording) — about Yo-Saff-Bridge of Firefly. Not scheduled for release.

The audio is not perfectly mixed and mastered; the songs are mostly live bootlegs.  The CD label will be nicely handwritten and autographed by me, with your name on it as you please, and the track list & credits will be printed on the printer here at WWR.  If you want a lipstick smooch on it, please specify when you order.  This is homebaked music — as in, burned on my laptop.  This is INDIE MUSIC IN ACTION.  The CD’s come with Marian’s homeburn guarantee — if the disc doesn’t work, I’ll make and ship you a new one from home, cuz I actually care about you since you’re ordering something weird like this.

The Donors’ Circle will have access to this CD for longer. Silver, Gold, and Mithril donors can place orders for the CD via Paypal throughout January, or they can ask for individual tracks as MP3’s from me and I’ll probably e-mail them for free.  I will post details about this through the Donors’ Google Group.  My turnaround time will not be quick after today’s special window, but I promise to deliver.

Disclaimers etc.:  I don’t want to limit these tracks to make them extra-exclusive or keep them a secret or be mean, I just can’t do all the work to make this CD happen for much more than a day.  As a one-woman operation I try to bring you as much as I can without running myself into the ground.  I probably won’t take the time to master and release these songs ever, so today is an excuse to share them without a huge  commitment on my part.  Hence the limited one-day release.  Rest assured, you guys deserve everything I have to give, and I am just trying to keep up with what all I’d like to offer you.

(If you want to know whether I mind if you distribute these tracks, or set them to slideshows, or cook them in soup — as long as you keep my name attached to them and don’t make money for yourself at my expense, go ahead.  My secret stuff is secreter than this.)

Great music is worth it!

Mortality’s a Sticky Wicket

10/16/2009 at 7:07 am | In News & Explanations | Comments Off
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Resolutions Marian makes when reminded of her own finite lifespan:

  1. Wear skirts more often
  2. Send thank you notes
  3. Cook stuff from scratch and eat it with red wine
  4. Spend all my time with friends who are easy to be with
  5. Call my Mom
  6. Write some less silly, peppy, juvenile songs, for goodness’ sake
  7. Forget about Inbox Zero
  8. Do something about health care reform
  9. If it’s pretty outdoors, go outdoors, immediately
  10. Get a cat someday (borrow if necessary)
  11. Forget about number 6
  12. Do breast exams more regularly

I spent the month of September planning my upcoming recording project, working backstage at The Lion King, and wondering whether the lump in my breast would kill me, ruin me financially, or just disappear.

The odds of finding something deadly in my left breast are very small at my age.  But don’t we all have that friend — relative — high school classmate — who meets an unfair and early end through cancer?  It’s a code word for “unjust” when applied to the young.  So I couldn’t help worrying just a little.  That’s what you do when you think you’re sick: worry.

Then, of course, the realization always follows that I WILL die, sooner or later.  And that doesn’t make me special; all of you will too.  I could survive a dozen deadly cancers, be a walking medical miracle, and then unexpectedly have a run-in with a rabid illegally imported chinchilla that would end me. And what a way to go.  It’s embarrassing how poorly we (Americans in particular) cope with the inevitability of death when the fact iswe walk with it daily.

In any case, mortality has been on my mind for the last six weeks or so.  I fretted, I fussed, and between doctor and hospital visits I found I wanted to do very different things than I imagined I’d want to do.  Go hiking — now.  Sit for an hour with a borrowed cat — now.  Step outside and look at the mountains — now.

Why bring this up with you?  Well, it’s breast cancer awareness month, for one.  Check ‘em, ladies.  Set an alarm on your fancy phone.  And it’s never a bad time to ponder the stuff you need to do to have a full life — now.  Please take a second to remember.

Suppose you and I never realize our full potential as human beings; suppose we either don’t work hard enough, or we’re not good enough, or life thwarts us, or whatever.  And we don’t reach our goals, and we’re unsatisfied with the Cliff’s Notes version of our life.  Then what are we left with?  How we lived along the way. How we used our eyes to see and hands to do.  That’s all we get.  You know this.  I don’t have to preach at you.  But I’m happy to remind you.

I got a clean bill of health last week — the lump was nothing, though for quite a while they thought it was — and I’m feeling much better now.*

But I want to remember what I learned while I was wondering about the length of my barely-significant life.  I want to remember how deeply I loved looking at Alaska, and how much I appreciated the company of good friends.  How staying positive and thankful, inasmuch as I could, held me together.  How risks suddenly seemed smaller, less scary, and more appealing.  Hold that knowledge tight.

I’m not at all special for going through this; it’s a little little nothing, and so many people go through worse every day.  But it’s real.  Sharing stories is what we do, so this is mine at the moment.  Please be mindful of your life and death.  Be mindful.  That’s all.

I look forward to seeing some of you in New York City, Massachusetts, and Seattle next month –

Marian

*I also got another kind of bill that made me less than thrilled.  But had I needed some sort of operation, I would be filing for bankruptcy and ending my career.  For the record, and this is my first openly public political statement ever: though I’m in many ways a conservative, I support the public option, partially because I have little to no hope of health care in the foreseeable future, and neither do most of my friends — I know far too many artists and musicians desperately fundraising tens of thousands or more to cover a single illness that’s long past.  But I won’t discuss politics at length here, or in the comments.  If it helps you to put a face on the solvent yet uninsured, anyway, mine will do.

Two Poems for Autumn

09/07/2009 at 9:09 pm | In Just for Fun | Leave a Comment
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Here are a couple old poems that want to have a permanent home here.  Plus I miss having time to write at you guys!  I’m working for The Lion King and planning for some recording this winter.  Fingers crossed that the money, the time, and my sanity align.

I have had poetry on the brain this month; I’ve gone to several readings and shared a concert with Anchorage poet Keith Liles, which was a lot of fun.  Here are two old poems of mine that just wanted to be posted somewhere permanent, so here they are, for my reference as much as anything else. And constantly being revised.

All my best to you –

M

What I’ve learned from Boeing
(with thanks also to McDonnell-Douglas, Airbus, Piper, and Aeronca)

They terrify, but they’ve taught me, these towering painted tubes.
I am a restless pupil. I keep one unblinking eye out the window, always,
to make the ground stay where it ought to,
to eject if I must.
My lessons will not take not take not take,

so I rescribe them, so I make flashcards,
so I repeat and repeat again:
I’ve learned this much is true:

:

One. We fold up the wheels to fly. No don’t let’s go back

We dial down the engines to cruise.
We cannot continue up and up and always up –
we will plateau, twenty minutes in, and when we do, you’ll feel a clenched fist pull your stomach straight down a thousand feet, every time,
and then we will descend, every time, which is worse,

every time.

Two. There is a backup plan:

should the hydraulics fail, the wheels can still extend and retract five times before they’re exhausted.
We have two engines, but one is enough.

Three. The sun rises with you
and sets later — the day is longer — from way up here.
Some seasonal changes can only be seen from above.
Everything looks its proper size, the busy things little, the ancient things looming.

Four. Clouds indicate excitement ahead.
The little bumps will make you jump, but they won’t take you out.
True turbulence inspires shouts, involuntary, hallelujah, as it acquaints you
finally

with the naked strength of the forces that keep you impossibly

afloat.
Blasts buffet our tiny bodies and we remember our relative importance and we shake

Five. It is possible to keep one’s calf muscles flexed and taut for all of nine hours without ever relaxing. Or noticing.

Six. Do-overs and go-‘rounds are horrific
but smart.
The alternative,
stubbornness –
costly.

Seven. Weight is no governor of airworthiness.  There are other forces at play.
Thrust overcomes gravity, logic, boggles every obstacle.

Eight. Airplanes want to fly.  It’s harder to land than to launch. In fact,

A stiff breeze on the tarmac will lift each bird with longing.
Best tie them down ’til takeoff

or they will.

And sure as sure is sure,
I am not the captain
and he will not let me steer
or even make suggestions. Nine.

Ten. Try though I might with cold concentration to keep us

airborne,

we land every time. (As we must.  My foolishness knows no bounds. My stomach will not be persuaded.  Stay up stay up stay)

And last (take note, write this down, quick, eleven, keep breathing):
we must do as much

falling as flying –

exactly, to the inch — to go anywhere.

I’ve got it, it’s all down all down, I abbreviate wildly,
trying so hard so hard to transcribe this thund’rous three-hour lecture,
while with chapped lips
I swallow lukewarm air in quarts
and bless my terror:

I bless the takeoff, the touchdown, and that time in-between

three hundred souls
inevitably bent on anxious meditation
scratching at the meaning in this hollow bird,
all of us, all of it

crammed with prayers and promises.

++++++++++

Test Strips
or
Colored Crises of Conscience
Deep down darkroom where I’m Queen of all you see –
manipulating images — at last a lone and quiet and free
to wrestle all my inner demons.
The smell of fixer soaks my hands. My
crystal ball, the test strip in the tub
slowly glows its prognostic-stripes — three seconds, six seconds, nine,
wow, double digits, so so dark — my feet hurt
too much to wonder. Choose quickly. Set the timer.
I fix the paper, ferry it into the light and
sit for the first time in hours (I must. Just a moment. Wait).
Her skin in shades of gray unmakes me. Ghostly
or sunburnt? I get to decide. Like back in

high school, in Washington, in the rainforest of the nation,
where the sun-god shon so seldom it tempted my soggy imagination
toward degrees of browner white.
C’mon, all the cute girls do it,
spend their time, their parents’ money, to go to the mini-mall but return from Cabo.
To fake’n’bake or no? That was my question.
Of course, not really my question — I
couldn’t afford those radiant hotbeds of rest

free lunch kid book of tickets dangling

and if I could I’d just get skin cancer,
like as not; at least premature wrinkles. Still

in summertime I chose my SPF:
45, 30, 15 — flirting with danger –
wondering if sun really cured acne, wondering
if those girls (boys) would notice me
if I looked orange like them against the Blue-gray Sound.
Bleach my hair. Take diet pills. Learn to walk that way. Quit
acting so damn smart. Pretend to hate my teachers. Then
would I escape these minor crises of conscience,
wondering now if it’s a sin for me to
keep my lily-white Scandinavian/English/Scotch-Irish skin?
To like it sometimes, even? Bitch, racist,
don’t even think that. White is trite.

In Hawai’i they stared for good reason. I was
wrestling with issues of sov’reignty in museums, studying the Queen’s jail cell, not
lying out by the pool. Hah. At work they asked me
why I had nothing to show for my trip, gringa. I grinned, I laughed.  Rolled down my sleeves.

So now what do I do with my own photograph?
Three seconds, six seconds, nine seconds, twelve.
Reimagine myself.
Could I slip out of the grip suffocating white liberal guilt
if I just drift, just

let myself follow the
sun — hell with cancer, loosen up, bitch
– and stopped carrying 45 like a gun
in my backpack? I guess I’d survive
and eventually get tawny and chic. As if.

Well, maybe just one second more. There. Maybe
freckles would scare off the zits. There. Maybe
my man would survey me proudly, bless me:
Look at you, you’ve got some color!
This photo at the beach would look so much sweeter –

but the heart of my matter is, you’ve stared down this demon before.
Here in California it takes so so so much effort (and sunscreen and shut-up
and forced, cold laughter) just to
like myself the way I’m meant to be:
Healthy. Just healthy. Just…one more second.

20,000 Mile Playlist

07/13/2009 at 12:39 am | In Music, News & Explanations, Stories from the Road | 5 Comments

I used to be not-a-great-driver, hiding in the ranks of those humble, honest few who rate themselves below average behind the wheel.  A Facebook quiz would show my driving style to be “cowardly space cadet,” because frankly, cars scare me.  All of them.*

Not any more.

Last year I drove more than three hours solo for the first time ever, from Seattle to Portland (with traffic of course). I stopped for free coffee in the rest area, sweating and hoping I wouldn’t lose focus and total the car.  I was terrified the whole way.

Last week I completed a road trip that took three months, on which I averaged 1,666.7 miles and 3 packages of wasabi soy almonds per week.  I drove 85% of the time, and navigated in every major metropolitan area north and west of Texas, save Las Vegas, which you can keep.

(Road trip music playlist below.  Some of it’s life-changing.)

What do you learn from an experience like that?  A lot. I have aphorisms by the bundle if you dig those:  What others can do, I probably can too, given enough coffee. / Necessity is the mother of courage. / Growing up doesn’t feel like being mature & in control, but rather like waking up to realize you’ve done things you thought you couldn’t. / People are mostly gracious and kind in proportion to your own gratitude and kindness. / Road trips aren’t like the movies, except for when they are. / Even in new surroundings and among total strangers, you find a way to filter your company, and you mostly miss meeting truly different people. / Cars may or may not respond to verbal encouragement, but no one will ever convince me they don’t. / You can’t park for free. / This country is gorgeous all over, and not nearly as big as I thought.  Canada? Now that’s big. (Listen when I’m talking at you, Texas.)

Mostly I learned how deeply distance is mental, not physical.  I often covered 500 miles during the day to play a show the same night in, say, Denver (hypothetical).  And I had friends living on the other side of Denver, or 20 miles outside of it, who insisted it was “a shame I couldn’t come do a concert closer to them, and they’d catch me next time.” I don’t get bitter about a slight like that, but I do feel a little sorry when geography has such a hold on people.

So often folks got stars in their eyes when talking with me about doing all that traveling. “Living the dream,” they’d say, in every city. But I wondered: are you actually dreaming of traveling all over, or of rejecting the life you’ve built so far and leaving it behind? Because if it’s travel you dream of, nothing’s stopping you. Gas is not THAT expensive. What’s five hours from you that’s interesting? Take a weekend and go see it, for goodness’ sakes. It’s good for your soul, good for your love of home, good for your kids or parents.  I grew up road tripping with my family, and I suppose I took it for granted that you can fall asleep in Oregon and wake up in California without buying a plane ticket.  There are people everywhere who don’t have faith in this simple physical fact.

How were the concerts? The concerts were concerts!  They were lots of fun.  A YouTube search will tell you more than I could, since some folks have posted video.  House concerts are nearly always the best if you ask me.  Even though I played some great venues, Poor David’s Pub in Dallas, Lestat’s in San Diego, the Chai House in Seattle, nothing compares to the fun of meeting people at home.  I played for tens and fifties and hundreds, and almost never had what I’d count a “bad” or “not worthwhile” gig.  So — successful tour!  The second half of it was financially self-sustaining, too, thanks to all of you.

After seeing most every major city in the west (except Las Vegas), I can conclude with certainty that I’m happiest in Anchorage.  Being home is so good. It took seven grueling days of driving to get back home, and it’ll be the same to escape again, but I have no interest in moving.  Alaska is home for now.  I’m trying to pick up pieces of the tour, get some sleep, book new shows, and start scratches of the new album that will be my baby for the next 6-9 months.

My own personal Infinite Playlist was very important 0n this trip, because my car had no iPod input.  I revisited my CD collection, which I haven’t done in quite a long time.  And I listened to it for hundreds of hours.  So here’s the list of albums that just would not leave the 6-CD rotation:

I listen to more hard rock and rap than you might expect, too, but it doesn’t get put on repeatedly like this stuff.  Links will be up later.

I’m trying to think of more to write about the trip, but I suppose I need some questions to answer, because I share my random thoughts about travel & geography on Twitter for the most part.  So ask away!  Blog entry on the new album coming soon.

All my best –

Marian

*Ex. 1: When my Mom drove with me to college in 2000, I happened to be behind the wheel when we first hit the freeway near Oakland (it was one of those freeways ending in -80, for you who will ask).   I saw six lanes going in one direction for the first time in my life, so I hyperventilated, pulled off into Hayward somewhere, and got lost in construction for an hour.  Mom took over.  Ex. 2: I walked and rode the bus in Alaskan winter for six months to avoid learning how to drive the manual car my husband bought.

The Slow Tour of 2008-2009

06/03/2009 at 3:51 am | In Music, News & Explanations, Stories from the Road | 1 Comment

My poor blog is looking so neglected that I am putting off more urgent work for a quick entry that’s been percolating in my head. Not sure if it’s finished yet, but half-baked cookies taste better, so here’s a half-baked blog entry.

It’s dawned on me over the last nine months (**nine!**) of traveling and playing that this is not a normal tour.  By “normal” I expect I mean “what a booking agent with half a brain would arrange to maximize profit.” I am spending far too long in every city, returning to the same places too frequently, and generally dragging my heels.  Granted, I’m trying to  cover most of the western U.S., but I’m taking an awfully long time to do it.

Yet it’s working for me.  So I’m calling it a win, and christening this trip my “Slow Tour.” I think I like it, and I think I’ll do it again.  The bands I meet on the road are usually blasting through a state in one night, maybe two.  But I feel like I’m making friends and getting to know the places I’m staying, eating at the right taquerías, hearing the local house bands, walking down the same street three mornings in a row.  Am I losing money?  I don’t think so.  What I spend in taking so long I think I make up in connection with locals.  As a social-media-oriented musician, connection is more valuable to me in the long term than money.

After being effectively homeless for nine months, any shred of familiarity feels like a luxury.  It’s funny how seeing anyone or anything again feels so wonderfully homey.  This weekend in Houston I was so grateful to be meeting friends — only, to my surprise, they still counted me a stranger, since we’d only met once a year ago.

The cost of leaving Alaska to tour is considerable.  Once I’m out, I might as well make the most of my time.  Even though I’m busy and often overwhelmed, I’m trying to linger long as I can over every mile.  Getting home again will be that much sweeter.

Miss you, Alaska.  I’m on my way north again this Sunday.  Hope you haven’t forgottten me.

*************

A couple of notes from the road:

While playing “In the Black” at a house concert in Austin, my accompanist Scott Barkan rocked so hard that he broke his chair during the first chorus.

I love it when small children play with my typewriter.  Most have never seen one before.

I have written 7 new songs in the last 2 months.  I need an alter ego to release all this gorram music.

Scratch tracks for the new album, Something Fierce, are going up on the Donors’ Circle Google group, and I am behind on getting people added and really launching it…sigh. Working on it, sorry for the slowness.  Tour makes it hard to get work done.

I tried to play a show in Canada, but found out that would be highly illegal. Oops!  Now I’m planning a real Canada tour next year, with the proper paperwork and everything.  Canada, I love you.  Why don’t you love me?

For some reason I have twice been paired with Burlesque troupes on the road.  Not the funny kind, either.  It’s supremely weird to sing the song “Vanilla” right after a strip act.  I don’t mind, but it’s hard not to laugh.

Zippy has a new container.  It’s much more chic and worldly, since he’s so well-traveled nowadays.

Geeking out, film & sci-fi edition: in California I saw Star Trek before most of you, I got my trusty rain stick signed by Alan Tudyk and Nathan Fillion, and I previewed Nathan Fillion’s new indie film Trucker (before he saw it).  Review coming when I’m sure I’m allowed.  Also, the guy who drives the Mars Rover — ON MARS — likes my tunes.

Geeking out, music & culture edition: in Austin, I got hugs from my hero Danny Schmidt, sang in the presence of Lyle Lovett (though he wasn’t really listening — still!), shook hands with Roy Blount Jr. and Carl Kassell, and talked at length with Peter Sagal, who now makes fun of me on Twitter.  And reportedly, Ray Bradbury has heard and likes my music.  I try so hard not to name drop, but dude!  The fangirl in me can only shut up for so long.  This is not me climbing ladders, this is me jumping up and down in excitement.

I ate Apple-Roquefort-Bacon Pie and it changed my life.

Love to all –

M

Marian Offers You More Than Ever Before

03/25/2009 at 6:54 pm | In Browncoats, How to this-or-that, News & Explanations | 3 Comments

To finish off my 6-month western U.S. tour successfully, and to help compensate for some unexpected very hard times, and because so many of you asked how you could help: here’s the game plan.  I asked you what you wanted, and you told me, so here it is:

T-shirts, stickers, and other merch are finally in the pipeline.  There will be some terrifically funny ones — in fact, folks at the new (& growing) LiveJournal fan page will get to vote on some of the initial designs next week.  Volvos and Zombie Cheerleaders and Donuts and Mosquitoes are featured.  Stay tuned for links to the new merch store.

CD’s now available in bulk – businesses, nonprofits, clubs, or individuals can resell Vanilla to make an extra buck.  Buy for $8 via Paypal, sell for $15 (or whatever price you like), minimum of 5.  Get them all autographed for an extra dollar per unit.  E-mail for details or to order.

****Update: the specialty and auction items below are no longer available, though some may come available again in later fundraisers or at special events.  The information on the Donors’ Circle is still accurate, though a more current description now resides at MarianCall.com/purchase.php.****

Specialty items on sale for a short time:

- Professional archival prints of one of four Brian Adams photographs, autographed by Brian & Marian, custom message if you like. These are gorgeous.  $65 +S&H (value $125). Order before April 15th. Click & scroll down to view available photos & details

- The last 15 prints of Marian’s very first full-color poster, designed for the release of Vanilla, autographed with the message or show date of your choice.  *This is the poster design with notes from my first fans’ myspace comments.*  Only $10 plus shipping.  Ships rolled, not folded.  Click & scroll down to view & order

- Seats at a private dinner with Marian in Los Angeles, CA on April 22nd or in Austin, TX on May 14th.  Dinner at a vegetarian/vegan-friendly restaurant is included (though alcoholic beverages are not).  This event will only take place if 4 or more fans purchase tickets to each meal; $60 per head includes dinner & concert.  Click & scroll down for details

A very small eBay auction with very special items:

This auction will take place at the end of March on eBay.  Photos of all these items and full details for each will be available before the start of the auction.

- A Limited Malcolm Reynolds stunt pistol by Quantum Mechanix, with certificate of authenticity, together with a print of the photo “Aim to Misbehave” by Brian Adams.  Both the gun and the photo will be autographed by Marian and the photo back can have the handwritten message of your choice.

- Two gorgeous handmade “Maid Marian” wood carvings (I own the third), featuring my alter ego from the cover of Vanilla with her badass sword and cell phone.  Autographed with a personal message on the back.  Made from Premium American Cherry wood by fan @edrafalko.  Click to view

- Hand-written, framed lyrics to “Dark Dark Eyes” and “Good Old Girl” on stamped handmade paper (2 items).  Yes, it will be my handwriting.  Yes, my handwriting is pretty.

- The original chicken-scratch drafts of four Marian Call songs as a set, all handwritten, messy, and with rejected original lyrics.  These are less pretty, but more collectible, as they can never be duplicated.

Freebie for all participants:

Because I love you and I love giving stuff away, everyone who purchases ANY of the specialty items or bids on an auction item (even if you don’t win) will also receive a free MP3 only available directly from me: my track “Vanilla” with audio commentary.  I’ll e-mail the MP3 to participants in shifts about a week apart — your should get yours a little while after purchasing.

If you bid in the auction, even if you don’t win, I’ll send you (as an MP3) the same audio clip you might hear if you call my phone and get my voicemail.  It’s sung a capella:

Thank you for calling, leamme a message please

Tell me what day and what month and what year it is

‘Cause I’m not here, no baby, I’m not home

The lights are on for sure, but maybe the occupants have flown

I’ll catch you later lo-ove, uh-oh, goodbye.

Perfect to put on your voicemail message, or, if you’re into a capella vocal ringtones, it works for that too.  It’s a free audio phone toy snippet thing.

Last but not least, since so many of you asked:

The Donors’ Circle

I think of the Donors’ Circle as my very own Zombie Cheerleaders — they keep me rolling and keep me independent, and they own my music in a very real sense.  I’m accountable to them to keep the art coming, and to keep it real and meaningful.

I’m inviting folks who are interested to purchase shares of my next album.  It won’t come out for a while; I’ll probably start recording this winter.  But it’s never too early to start getting people on board.  Shares start at $200 with different levels of commitment — and you can pay in small monthly installments if you want. *Any specialty item or auction purchase this spring will count towards the purchase of a share if you wish to do both.*

There will be major perks to being part of the donors’ circle as I start the next album, including preview tracks, commentary, VIP concert treatment, blooper recording reels, and more.  For more details on the perks, the new album, and the donors’ circle, click here for an explanation and scroll all the way to the bottom.  It’s really easy to do. And great art is worth it.

Clarification:  This is an investment you make because you want the album to exist, not to make money.  If you want to make money, consider purchasing CD’s in bulk.  There will be many benefits & exclusives for the Donors’ Circle, but a cut of album sales is not one of them (the legal hassles alone would be insurmountable).  But if you have more ideas of benefits you’d like to see, or items you’d like to see offered for sale, let me know!

The wild blog migration

03/11/2009 at 12:19 am | In News & Explanations | 1 Comment

My official blog is moving here from http://xanga.com/mariancall. I’ve posted about ten relevant and recent entries from the other blog, just for fun, but previous posts can still be found at the original xanga site.

Thanks all!  Questions or comments, just let me know here, or via e-mail or Twitter.  See you on the road!

Welcome to LA! No, you can’t park here

03/10/2009 at 11:51 pm | In General Nerdery, Stories from the Road | Leave a Comment

[This is a re-post of portions of an older blog from http://xanga.com/mariancall.]

I think a brief reintroduction is in order, since so many good people — the sort with fabulous taste in wall decor and cool sunglasses — have been dropping by my messy virtual pad lately.

I’m trying to use fewer words to say more, so Twitter is my medium of choice lately.   Brevity is the soul of twit, as @brentspiner reminds us.  Let’s see if I’ve made any progress in that department:

Hi!  I’m Marian, and I’m a lexiholic.  I was inspired and raised outside Seattle, humbled for four years at Stanford, and tempered for five years in Alaska, which is where I currently live.

In answer to your questions, yes, Alaska is, in some ways: big, cold, hot, dark, light, part of the U.S.A., beautiful, bothersome, expensive, life-threatening, picturesque, and picaresque.

No, Alaska is not: entirely civilized, entirely wilderness, all hippies, all rednecks, vampire-infested, backwards (cuz that would be Aksala, silly).  I cannot see Russia from downtown Anchorage, though I do occasionally see the Russian Mafia, if that helps.  I aim to please.

I live with my husband @Mr_Call in a forty-foot vintage converted Greyhound bus called the Millennium Tortoise.  We travel a great deal in our continuing quest to learn just how much the government hates people without an actual street address.  Should you find our bus in your neighborhood, that means you should come hear a concert somewhere nearby!  (But please do not drop by our house uninvited.  Send flowers first.)

I make music.  That is to say, I write, arrange, rehearse, perform, record, edit, release, package, and promote these little acoustic ditties I like.  Some are funny, some are sad, most are (like me) a little nerdy, a little shy, and embarrassingly enthusiastic just beneath the surface.  If you want some background music while you browse, here’s a free streaming playlist of my stuff at imeem.com.  To buy music, visit iTunes or my website for other options.

Someday I would like to meet you at a live show (because the shows are much better than the recordings, and the recordings are good).  Then I shall sing you a song and hopefully make you laugh or sigh, and help you feel +1 better than you did.  Because that’s what I do.  And all I want is to keep doing it.

***********

I know that as a Washingtonian — as an Alaskan — as an indie musician — as a Stanford grad — as a geek — I’m sort of obligated to dislike L.A.  But I just can’t.  I really enjoy it there, and I love going back.  It’s funny, fabulous, scary, intimidating, hollow, pretentious, lascivious, riddled with scandal, and everything else it’s purported to be.  In other words, it’s endlessly entertaining.

Maybe I enjoy it because of the circles I choose to move in there.  I’ve done some celebrity spotting, never deliberately — but mostly I prefer to spend my time with writers, indie musicians, nerds, geeks, and the sorts of filmmakers or actors who love film more than they love themselves.  I guess that’s a good guiding principle everywhere: find people who love what they do, and are humbled and thrilled to be doing it, and you’ll be in good company.

We drove the Millennium Tortoise down I-5 to spend a whole month in SoCal last November.  Just a month before we had schooled the Al-Can Highway, which means we suffered eight days of potholes, frost heaves, and bison in the roads.  I can now say with confidence that the last stretch of I-5, north of L.A., is much worse than the barely-paved Yukon.  We lost dishes to the bumps in the last mountain pass.  I think it broke our computer/TV a little, because it developed selective amnesia after that painful ride.

Since I know you were curious, here are some alternate names for the Millennium Tortoise, thanks to my father, who loves to pester me by sending me anagrams.  He e-mailed me the following recently:

Millennium Tortoise =

Run on, timeliest limo!
may your timeliest limo run on in safety, brave ones!

Enormous little Mini
Mini compared to some things, I suppose.  Like, say, Texas.

Ennui limits tremolo
This has actually not been my experience.

Inuit Tremolo miles
as opposed to normal miles — you Alaskans do everything differently.

No sluttier lion mime
There is no sluttier lion mime than you, my dear

I, Mister Onion Mullet
Scented mullet.  Mmmmmmm.

and, for shorter trips around town:
I, nine mile Motorslut.

Upon arriving in the L.A. area with a somewhat busted bus (good band name!), we started the hunt for somewhere — anywhere — to park a forty-foot bus.  Normally it’s just a matter of finding a strip mall or Walmart or campground or a friend’s driveway.  Oh, I hear some of you even now laughing at our naivetë — but please keep in mind this simple rule: most of what you know now, you know because you learned it too late for the first time you needed to know it. (Can someone say that last bit better, please?)

What we now know is this: there is nowhere, but nowhere to park an R.V. in L.A.  We looked for days. No Walmart, no Target, Ralph’s chased us out, the beach is not public parking, the suburbs are metered.  There are RV parks which cost $60 per night, but they wouldn’t allow us to stay for more than X number of nights.  Plus, the whole point of bringing the bus was to stay cheap-or-free and save on hotels.  Our mistake.

So we drove around a lot more than we wanted to, getting knocks on our door and being politely or not-so-politely asked to leave this or that public space for which we’d already paid.  We’re a NiMBy.  You should’ve seen (or rather heard) the disapproval of other drivers when we took the bus on the road.  I think the Prius drivers were honking at us to shame us for our unburned hydrocarbons, and the Escalade drivers were honking because they suddenly felt inadequate and vulnerable for the first time.

(A note about fuel consumption, BTW:  I know it smells bad to drive behind us, but dude, we’ve cut our energy consumption and environmental footprint to a fraction of yours.  Plus we’re recycling and reusing, in the truest sense.  So sell your condo and live in your car before you honk at us, hybrids.  (Feel free to continue honking at Escalades, though, as this amuses me and they’re easy targets. (Also, everybody take turns nesting parentheses, because it’s good clean fun.)))

BUT parking issues notwithstanding, at every little venue, our little half-hour set completely dominated.  I have my underage guitarist and my brilliant drummer to thank for that, partially.  In every show, at every venue, we were the ones who wound up with e-mail list signups and album sales and eager handshakes from venue owners and low whistles from otherwise apathetic patrons.  Our songs made people shut up and laugh and cry.  Mission accomplished!

We made no money at any of the shows.  But by the end of the tour, my online sales of Vanilla — sales from around the world, not L.A. — had increased tenfold, and only slowed a little after the holiday.  If that makes any sense to you, you have my admiration.  But I’m happy, because means I’m a step or two closer on the road to solvency.  And I’m sure our unpaid tour was connected to a bigger online presence.

I’m eager to come back to LA and SD, because we met so many great people there.  We were even thrown a kickin’ Rock Band party by the San Diego Browncoats.  (N.B.: we will play Rock Band with almost anyone, anywhere.  And no, don’t give me the microphone.  If you do, I will use my opera voice for everything.  It’s guitar, drums, or opera; those are your choices.)

You’re fabulous, L.A.  Stay hilarious, stay unfriendly, stay dramatic, keep your bluster, keep bristling with possibility, keep smashing dreams.  Only next time — let us park our fabulous vintage luxury Alaskan bus.  Please?

Photos at http://flickr.com/mariancall.
Highlights from the Creation Con & my Got to Fly CD release in the next blog. This one’s too long already!

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