So many people think being a singer is a fun job. So fun, in fact, that it can't really be called a 'job' at all. They say things like, "GOD. You are so LUCKY you just get to sing." When I started out, they said things like, "You have such a great voice, I hope when you get a real job, you can still keep doing it." They also poo poo my complaints of exhaustion, loneliness and frustration at my whacked out, ever changing and never ending schedule. "What are YOU complaining about? You just have to put on a pretty dress, sing and have fun on stage."

Now, the "They" of whom I speak, are the THEY from Planet THEM, according to my friend Marc Acito. So I know how much gravity to give these opinion laden comments. Well meaning as they may seem, THEY should dab their mouths with toilet paper after spewing them, as it is just utter crap.

Singing, along with most every other art form, is desperately difficult work. Not difficult in the trench digging, grunt soldier, pediatric neurosurgeon variety....but it's a dirty, crazy business. Plenty of people are creative, sure, and gifted enough to be celebrated, successful and paid handsomely for their craft. So why don't more talented folks find lucrative work in their chosen profession? Because it is heart breaking, bone crunching-ly hard and damn near impossible to make an honest living doing it.

People used to get "discovered", they still do, but not quite like they used to. Nowadays, if you discover a new artist, chances are they have been killing themselves for years, slogging through gritty little clubs, throwing themselves at people who may or may not give a shit about music at all. They have hustled their friends and neighbors with endless flyers and emails to get bodies to come hear them play, hoping they like what they hear, so more people come next time. They have begged to get on bills with bigger bands, tours, radio shows, big parties, anything to get seen/heard/loved. They have possibly solicited agencies of the booking and or management variety, only to STILL end up booking and hustling themselves, only now with the esteemed honor to pay some dick 10 or 15% for doing doodle-y squat.

If they can stick it out, starving and pushing, they may start to enjoy micro dribs and drabs of success, ie getting paid with money instead of beer, or "a great exposure gig!" What happens next? Limos full of cocaine and blowjobs? Nope. They STILL have to keep hustling, keep pushing, pimping, whoring, rocking and rolling. You release a record, by any means necessary, and go out on a tour as far and wide as you can spreading yourself completely invisible. You do absolutely any and every gig, appearance and college radio show if you're lucky and do not take a single day off. You sing your throat into hot dog food trying to make gas money to get to your friend's moms house in Flagstaff so you all can take a shower and raid her fridge. After a month or so, you come back to your hometown and hopefully play a well attended "conquering hero" gig. After a few dozen of those trips, you have a bit of a following. And hey! Here comes More success....people are talking....they like you they REALLY...Oh wait. You're now a sellout, a poseur, everything has been handed to you and you sleep with everyone to get what you want. Oh...yeah, and PS, you SUCK, SUCK, SUCK.

Despite my blue collar bravado in this blog, I'll admit I AM lucky to do what I do. I can now say that I am making a decent living singing, performing and writing. But remember, the big brave woman you see on stage, with her mouth cranked open and her boobs haughtily thrust forward in some clingy thing, ate shit for about twelve years before she started to make this decent living. Twelve years. If I took the time to do the math, what I'm making now divided by all the hours I've clocked in this business, the resulting rate would be as if I had worked at Jamba Juice without promotion and zero bennies.

That being said (or ranted about) I wouldn't change a thing. I LOVE this uncertain, crazy, gut busting business. Sure I bitch about being tired, lonely, and sick and someone should go call me a whaaa-mbulance. But I am super grateful I get to do what I do. But don't, for one second, think this gig is easy. Yes, it is a fun job, but it is definitely still a job.

AS I write this, my voice is gone, my neck is kinked and my head is spun off like a cartoon tornado. And tomorrow I am leaving on the first vacation I've taken in ten years. I pray when I get back I am fresh and can be excited again for my next crazy year.

See you back stateside in two weeks!
xoxoStorm