Hamell On Trialphoto: ht
First: Transport me. Take me out of my present state; bring me somewhere where I forget where I am for 90 minutes. Do it in such a way that I’m excited, I want a roller-coaster ride, a thrill ride that runs the emotional gamut from laughter to tears.
Second: Don’t insult my fucking intelligence. Don’t dummy down. Don’t try to appeal to the “largest demographic possible”. The very phrase makes me want to fucking puke.
Third: I want to leave the show thinking, “Wow, I got real insight into to this guy. He bravely confessed things to me I never would have anticipated and he did it in such a way that were both silly and profound and everywhere in between.”
Fourth: How about a little style? Distinctive style. Something you’ve painstakingly developed over a period of time and you wear the scars of that development on your sleeve. (Or head, in my case)Yeah, I can detect your influences but not so overtly that I feel you’re downright copying somebody. (Read: I HATE Lenny Kravitz. It’s such hideous arrogant bullshit that he should be exiled to the Island of Bad, just plain fucking BAD. Please don’t write me any emails defending him; if you like him you have shitty taste. You’re not a music fan, you’re an idiot. Cancel your subscription to my blog, I couldn’t care less. I’m not looking to have the most friends on my Facebook page. Dane Cook has the most friends on his Facebook page and he’s another idiot.)
Fifth: Play every gig like it’s your last. Give 100% every night, whether there are 1,000 people or 6. Never take for granted how lucky you are to be able to do it. The best case scenario is you wring out your shirt after the gig. I find this particularly admirable if you’re a woman and we share a dressing room. (I wonder if Joan Jett needs an opening act. Hmm….) I was NOT inherently gifted. There were many other players as I was growing up that could play Eric Clapton licks note for note when they were 15. They could sing like John Lennon. They looked like Robert Plant on stage. I envied their ease of rock and roll operation. I was not one of those guys. Every move, every note, every stage banter and gesture has been painstakingly fought for through very hard work and years of practice. But a lot of those guys are sitting on a bar stool somewhere or if they’re lucky, considering the economic status of Upstate New York these days, they still have their job in a factory. I, on the other hand, have the tenacity of a cockroach. It was all I ever wanted to do, make my life music. By hook or by crook I was going to do it.
Six: Choose your influences well. There’s no need to be hyper critical of them. There are certain artists, Lou Reed, Warren Zevon, Bob Dylan, Nick Cave, Alan Vega, Shawn Ryder, Mark E. Smith, Leonard Cohen, Jack White, Iggy Pop, that when a record comes out it’s like a letter from a friend. I don’t scrutinize letters from friends and say, “Oh, the one he wrote in 2003 was much better.” Fuck that. I just like getting the letter. What’s he up to these days? Just a little spiritual gas station to fill my inspirational tank and get me from point A to point B.
Seven: Assume you’re going to do it for your entire life or don’t do it at all. It’s a marathon not a sprint. There’s going to be hard humiliating times along with moments of sheer ecstasy. (I’m not talking about the drug here but that comes into play too.) It’s about the music and the art and not the big “cash pay off.” Here’s the deal: At the end of the road, laying in your deathbed you’re going to look back and think, “What did I did with my life? What did I leave behind? Was I Rob Thomas or was I John Lennon?” You figure it out, because life’s short man.And if you’re just dabbling, get out of my fucking way, I got enough problems these days.
