While I do some editing on these posts, they are largely stream of conscious essays in which I write what I think and feel about the issues I deal with being a niche independent musician who is self-managed and self-booked. Recently I’ve been reviewing my blog posts, and I’ve noticed an undercurrent of frustration and anger, and much of it is something I’ve already discussed: naming the genre of music I play. Back in May I wrote a post titled “A Rose by any other name: Or What’s in a Name?” It’s hot linked so you can read it yourself, but the gist of it was a rant showing my frustration at my largely failed attempt to be considered a folk artist.
As I say in that post, I’ve always wanted to be thought of as a folk musician. Why is that important to me? At this point I’m asking myself the same question. I know much of it stems from the ‘facts’ of my musical upbringing where folks like John Prine, Steve Goodman, James Taylor and Jackson Browne have more to do with my picking up and playing the guitar than Leo Kottke, Michael Hedges, or Alex De Grassi ever did. And I’m almost entirely self-taught. I’ve had less than 10 formal guitar lessons. Those origins are about as folky as you can get. But I’m learning that where I am and what I do now is more important than where I’ve been in the past. I have to act on the former not the latter. Continue reading