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In the artistic world, there are forces that combat each other, and when one force stomps out the other, I don’t know if it’s a good thing or a bad thing. There’s the creative side. The ‘I’m gonna lock myself in this studio and not come out until I have a record’ wonderful creative side that pushes our soul to find new ground and become something special. (At least in our own minds). Then, there is the practical side- you know the ‘Hey you only have 4 likes on my video of said new record so your stuff basically sucks so there’s the job application for mucking stalls…’ I mean, you push and push and try, and then?
If this hits close to home, I apologize. It’s what we artsy types constantly deal with. I just put out a new album, and I think I really miss the days of driving around and selling albums out of the trunk until they sell themselves. The Internet sort of does that for us – we put something out until it goes viral, which is just like being in a van but with less maintenance and it smells infinitely better. (Thank God the Internet is not 4D). But the internet is cruel. When you are playing live shows, at least the stage is a bit of a platform. Now it seems everyone is crowding your platform, and for some reason that I probably forgot from Psych 101, we tend to pay attention to the negative comments more than the positive.
And then what makes us move? If we get beat down online, or not much traction in this crowded Internet, then what? Is it a direct reflection on how ‘good’ or ‘bad’ we are? I don’t think so. It’s hard not to look at metrics, but I think that if we find our balance – our happy zone, so to speak – then the money vs. art thing will play out.
I look at the semi-tortured souls that lived in obscurity and poverty that are now revered as ‘masters’ or ‘geniuses’ and have works sell for countless millions or have records ‘discovered’, sampled, and loved the word over. I love the story of Cortelia Clark; an impoverished Nashville street musician, living in the humblest of houses, who was discovered, sold less than 1000 records, and consequently won a Grammy in 1967 for best Folk Record.
I’ll let you in on a little secret – Being successful has nothing to do with your sales, numbers, metrics, money made, or any of the usual benchmarks. When you simply ‘let go’ and be YOU, then that is when you are truly successful. You let go of your inhibitions and realize that the only person you need to impress is yourself.
Granted, there is a lot of grey in there. In the music world, it seems a big song on the pop charts is the way to get the big house and make your rent. No one buys jazz records anymore, and since there is ‘no money in it’ (whatever it is) we get redirected. I realize writing a song is a double edged sword between commercialism and pouring out your art and merging the two is saved for the select lucky few (See: Jason Isbell). So that being said, I think if you put it out there (again, whatever itis), then let itall fall where it may.
That being said, I did my it. I made a record. Like top to bottom; wrote, performed everything (save one drum track by Jeff Brown), and arranged the whole thing. I had been wrestling with a lot of genres, approaches, and I have always had fantasies of fronting a power trio or an R&B band (which, as I think about it, still may happen), however, there was something else I wanted to try. I say ‘try’ because I have never done a full keyboard-infused record.
Being locked down has had its challenges, and making music with a house full of little children is one of them. So I decided to do a record I could make ‘in the box’, which means totally in the computer. Last November, had just tested positive for COVID, and decided to do some different things in my life. To make big changes, it is best to start with small ones.
I woke up at 4:30 AM every morning for 40 days straight and got to work until someone else in the house woke up. Some days I had a melody happen, other days just some chord changes or even a beat. I didn’t set any limits on my creativity; I just needed to stay in an instrumental chill lane. I didn’t set 40 days as a hard limit, I simply figured after 40 ideas I needed to start the elimination/merger process.
So after a lot of listening, I picked 14 tracks and got to work. The beauty of having 40 ideas is that I have a lot of material from which to choose, and enough material to jumpstart the next record as well.
So my first solo instrumental album is called Space under the pseudonym Alex St. James, which is a mash-up of my kids’ names. It is a collection of chill songs that can help you get a lot done. What I like about music, and specifically this genre, is that the music can be used for a number of applications. This record can help you sleep, meditate, exercise (it’s really good for walks), do yoga, or be productive during your workday.
How can we listen, Steve? Well, you can listen to Space on any major streaming service. The album is for sale on Apple (I actually ‘signed’ a screen shot of the first one sold, and I will do the same for you if you like). Add the album to a playlist and enjoy.
So there’s the short backstory on Space. I hope you listen – at least once – and find something in there you like. Selfishly I don’t care, really. I did this record for me, not you. That sounds harsh, but it’s true. This is my success. The rest is just gravy. And by gravy I mean I’d love for you to venmo me like $5 if you enjoy it. J
Well, that’s almost all the gravy. The best part of this record is that I can tell the kids that I made it at home, and they can say ‘Amazon, play Alex St. James’, and it helps them feel like Daddy is a little closer even though I am 1000 miles away playing a show. So there is my definition of success.
I’ll see you on the road! (Now go buy my record!)
Thank you –
Steve
