On having more power over your work

The last time we talked was right before your first album came out. It’s been five years. How has making music shifted for you over those five years as your project’s grown?

You’re right. I think it might be exactly 5 years. Well, everything has changed. [laughs] It feels like we live in a different world. So similar to the old, but with something eerily off.

Making music for me has shifted in the most banal ways and also in the most profound. I learned a lot from that first record. Both from the process of making it, as well as the process of it coming out in the world, working with a label for the first time, my career growing, getting attention, etc. I learned a lot about myself and about how people feel about me, about what I make, and how I make it. And that makes me feel. How I feel about how they feel. It’s a constant feedback loop.

Having a real, tangible reaction to a solo body of work for the first time changed how I work now. It’s hard to keep the external voices out, and in a way a big part of the work has become about guarding what I allow to come into the music.

I keep thinking of the analogy of wearing different hats when I talk about the process of making my solo music. I’m a songwriter, producer, engineer and performer, and I believe all of those jobs are very different from each other. So I imagine myself changing “hats” to do each individual job. When I put on my “producer hat,” in many ways, the job is accurately perceiving where certain musical and lyrical ideas come from. With lyrics: “Is this honest? Do I actually feel this way?” or “Is this coming from insecurities because x review said x thing about my lyrics?” or because “x friend said x thing about my lyrics”?

Same with production. Am I producing to flex my skills? Is this sound design for the sake of sound design and flexing or is this making me feel things in my stomach? I guess, ultimately, it all comes down to stomach, instinct and truly “Am I doing whatever the fuck I want?” or “Am I fooling myself into thinking I’m doing whatever the fuck I want, but I’m really just trying to fit in?” Five years ago I knew, without a doubt, I was always doing what I wanted. Now, sometimes I have to actively question myself, take time to check in with the intentions of my work, listen, and steer. I’d say that has been the biggest shift in the creative process since you and I last spoke.

When we first met, you lived in Brooklyn. You’ve moved around a bit since we last spoke. Has that also changed the process?

Yes. I don’t work out of my apartment that much anymore, I go into studios more. I have been living a bit of a nomad life in the past few years so that has naturally shifted the process and the physical context of how and where I work. Now, internally, how much energy I spend in protecting the process is a new thing. I have seen the things in the past that have allowed me to create—or to create in a certain way—and so now I’m aware and I deliberately bring those in, or keep them out. And, of course, as you and I have spoken so much about, the process becomes an instrument. It is another instrument, and with practice, time and discipline, you get better at playing it.

And, yeah, it’s hard to navigate growth. As teams grow, there are so many more people offering input and, in general, just so many things to process: reviews, social media, etc. Really, sometimes having more folks offering input isn’t helpful—it just means more noise to filter out.

Absolutely. At least every other day I ask myself “Is this what I want?” “Is this my life becoming what I want it to be?” It is hard, and confusing at times, to navigate the growth.

On one hand, I have always known exactly what I want: music. I belong with the music…in the music. But on the other hand, I had absolutely no idea about anything else: What type of career I wanted to have? Did I want to make money out of it? So on that second side, for me, it’as been about trying things and adjusting according to how they make me feel. A lot of trial and error, on the go.

All I’ve ever known is that I belong with the music. With sound. With instruments. Period. Music for me has never been a way to acquire something else, or to arrive at something, like attention, fame, or money. It has always just been about music. It’s an end to itself. It has always been. So I wasn’t really prepared for the pressure because it had never been part of my imaginary future. In the past few years, finding myself in this very fortunate position, I’ve been forging my own place in the context of my work and of the industry that surrounds it.

It has been interesting and also exhausting. Like, the simple but important decision of quitting my day job years ago, to completely live off the music, what that entails, the people that I surround myself with, what I need, what I don’t need, the type of team that works for me, the type that doesn’t, what helps me be better, what makes me be worse, etc…. I had never dreamt about any of it, so I’ve had to figure out what feels right to me as I go. Trying, observing, then steering. It’s been an interesting project in exercising will.

I’ve never had specific dreams and, honestly, sometimes I wish I had, because I think that would make things so much easier. I found a lot of my colleagues do have hyper specific goals and dreams. I’m talking about things like signing to a specific label, playing a specific festival, selling out shows. Before accomplishing some of those things myself, I had never even thought about them. And if i’m really honest, I still don’t feel butterflies in my stomach when I see my name billed on a festival lineup. The butterflies for me come from the music and other human beings experiencing it. From your smiles, your dancing with your eyes closed, your tears at a show. The subs tickling us all.

The music itself. I feel so much with it. It’s all indescribable. All that has no words, but exists in the sound. We all have felt it when surrounded by music and sound. And so, yes, I’m always trying to protect that and keep it about that. And, like you say, it’s hard work. And, of course, with the team inevitably growing, the pressure inevitably grows, and it becomes even harder. It’s already hard to stay focused ourselves, and then you add more people and try to keep them focused. That alone is a full time job really. But of course, it should not be.

Sometimes it feels like its all pushing us in a direction that makes everything be so much harder than it should be. Don’t you think? It’s not a very good system.

The system doesn’t work. It’s a good time to be questioning it and starting to figure out different approaches. People are sending 100s of emails, and spending countless hours in one e-mail thread to make a $50. It’s so cluttered and inefficient. And, fewer people are making money from just selling records or touring.

Definitely. I cannot emphasize this enough: The system does not work and it needs to change. We need to change it. It starts with questioning it but it has to be followed by action, by artists exercising their will, by us, the artists saying no, way more often. We need to say no when no needs to be said and then figure out new ways.

Recently I’ve been thinking about how much it matters that I actually speak about the decisions I make privately, something I never do. But maybe I should be outspoken, share more, so that publicly you know more about me and the decisions I make privately. So that it’s more clear what I stand for, and what I think are better ways of doing things, or at least what I think are not the way to do things.

For example: I got an offer for a very, very big festival. I think it’s the biggest in the world and it was a ridiculously low offer, like less that I’ve been paid to play Baby’s All right… literally impossible to make it work financially without losing a lot of money. And, keep in mind im a single person on stage, the smallest show I can make work decently, it’s two of us flying. It’s a tiny touring party. And I’m like, “This offer is silly.” I talked to a lot of my musician friends about it and they all said, “That is how that festival is, we all get gutted.” But every single one of them was playing it. They all took the offers! They are all playing it.

So, I said “no,” kind of on principle. Like it was possible for me to invest a little money for the “exposure” of being on the lineup, of posting it, of crossing that festival name on the list of things a “successful album release year” should have, but my gut was like: no. It’s not about what they are selling, it’s what we are buying, right? The only reason the festival works that way is because the artists are all saying yes. Like even headliners spend more than they get paid in production. I don’t have to say more about it, it’s just, it is not a good system.

Now, some of the people that listen to my music probably think “Why isn’t she at that festival?” Industry people probably think I didn’t get an offer and so maybe the record isn’t actually doing so well, but I’m not sure if anybody in the audience or working in the industry thinks there is the possibility one can get an offer and reject it. You know? It’s not a widely considered possibility. Why?

We have been saying yes for far too long to far too many things. Saying “no” is powerful. Less is more. Doing fewer, more intentional things is powerful. Less is power. I think we, as artists, need to regain our wills. We have a will and we can exercise it, and it is not career suicide. We owe nothing to no one and we don’t really need anybody (not really) except the audience. We owe everything to our audiences, and they are the only ones that deserve our sacrifices.

So, yes, the system does not work. Very few people are making money, and the ones that are making a lot are not very transparent about how they make it, so they are creating false hope for the generations to come.

Right. If you have generational wealth, or whatever, it’s different. If you’re responsible for every cost, with no safety net, it gets very tricky. If you have a band—you along with three people playing our music, or whatever—once all the flights are purchased, this and that, you’re losing money. And that’s even if everything else goes right.

Yes. Everyone is losing money. I am terrified for a future without bands, but I genuinely don’t know how a band that is starting out is gonna be able to keep going in this time.

I guess, in general, I’m terrified of a future without live music, which is where we are headed if this doesn’t change. It’s terrifying to me.

I play live music, and I still enjoy live music more than anything, and we need to protect it, all of us. And put our money where our mouths are, all of us.

When we were talking earlier, you coined a term, “horizontal growth.” It’s a kind of pushing back against the need to always be accruing more… that constant escalation. Like, maybe you have a day job, but you’re able to make some time for creative work, and that’s enough. Or, you’re paying your bills with your creative work—which is a gift—and you’re happy where you are with that, and don’t feel the need to keep expanding. It’s different for each person. What if you get to a spot, a spot you love, and you just keep refining things at that level?

Yes. Why is there only one way? Why is it that we all think the same thing about what we need to acquire, the things, the festival bills, the team or whatever? That’s definitely one way, and definitely nothing wrong with it. But it is not the only way. It is so important to choose our own way. To choose what it is that we want and to know when to stop and enjoy.

You know? Like so many people are so clear about it in other aspects of their lives, like with kids: not everybody has to have six kids. You can be like, “Well, maybe I want one kid.” Or “maybe i don’t want to have kids” it’s the same thing but with an artistic career. You don’t have to fit a mold. Just ask the question. You can do whatever feels better to you, and you can also change your mind as many times as you want.

Horizontal growth can also often be the thing that, in the end, makes money, too. If you take your time and believe in what you do, versus just pushing for endless escalation.

In the past, we’ve talked about Fugazi. They ended up doing so well, financially, in part because they cut out so many barriers and so many commissions: no booking agent, their own label, etc.

It’s a different time and different space, perhaps, and there are some other factors, but something I see in the music industry that’s often a mistake of younger artists is paying too many people too soon. It’s so many commissions! At the end of the day, they’re spending beyond their means. And, it’s hard to get out of that once you’re in it.

It is heartbreaking and It’s really hard. That is part of what I mean, when I said there are a lot of assholes out there. Like, if you are a manager and are working with a young artist, make a budget before you suggest hiring a bunch of other people. And they will say—because they said it to me—you don’t have to pay them, they just make a percentage of the work they bring in, but yes, when you add it all up, you are left with nothing and are the one working the most. Why does everybody else make money before the artist does? And, like you said, once you are in it it, is very hard to get out of that, and it is heartbreaking. It’s like credit card companies giving credit cards to young people as soon as they get their first job, without any education on how credit works.

But you know what? I see that happening less when people come from a DIY background. Like you very rightly said about Fugazi… Like, if you listened to Fugazi as a teenager, even if you didn’t have a band yourself, you knew about their way of doing things, it was an education, in a way, on independence and on economics. Or, if you were in a band and you have done all the jobs because you had to do all the jobs, then you grow up and if you end up needing to hire people to do those jobs, then your experience will be useful to both choose the right person for the job and also know more accurately what the job cost, because you did it yourself.

Experience is really important in this. Knowledge and experience demystifies. Something is mysterious when you don’t understand it. When it comes to jobs and money, a way to understand is to experience. You do it so you know how much time, effort, and money it takes. And maybe that is a way to not fall into those traps of spending over your means, especially when you are starting out.

When I started TCI, one of inspirations was the punk zine, Maximum Rock and Roll. They used to have an annual publication called Book Your Own Fuckin’ Life, that was like, “Here are the DIY spaces in each city. Here’s a place you can get zines printed,” etc. Basically, it helped you book your own stuff. This is what I wanted TCI to be without explicitly doing that, a way to learn how to do your own thing, to have more power over your work. I wanted to demystifying things, because a lot of people just don’t know. And why would they? Gatekeepers like to keep it mysterious. But what if we answered questions clearly and generously? Like, “How does a person get a booking agent?” Or, “How does publishing work?” “Should I hire a publicist?” “Should I try to get press on my own?” “Do I really need a team of 10 people who are all getting a commission?“

It’s so important, demystification. Asking questions! I think that’s when you realize the most that we are a community, every time I’ve reached out to anybody that I know or don’t (online) asking a real question I have always gotten answers. It is so helpful and so important for people starting out: Don’t be shy about asking questions. None of us knew anything when we were starting out, we all learned by asking others. Or, by trying it out ourselves.

I guess I would say before you hire anybody else, ask questions, ask anything to everyone. Or, just go ahead and try doing the job yourself, you will also learn so much from doing that, even if only for a short period of time. Try doing every single job that you think you need around you, and then, once you know what it takes, what the job actually is, go out and find people to do it, if you have found after all of this, that you still need to.

Thinking about questions, I did a run of listening events for DIA back in December before it came out. In Bogotá, Medellín, Mexico City and London. A big part of those events was a Q&A section. It was my favorite part. It’s such an intimate thing. I find people are so interesting, and when we meet in these spaces where we share something in common, the love for music, it feels safe and adequate to speak about things that matter. I loved it and I want to do that more.

I always try to come out after a show to speak with the audience. Also, around some of these listening events in December, I hosted music production workshops only for women or women-identified people. That ended up being one of the most fulfilling things I’ve done. Now, teaching (or answering questions about your work) makes you speak differently, think differently. The processes and the information is so internalized that when you have to externalize it, another side of your brain lights up. It has made me think a lot about how I communicate, in general.

At the production workshops, I could see in the student;’s faces how they kept feeling empowered and freer as the time together progressed, with knowledge to make things, it’s like you’re giving the the power to be free. I know because I feel it, too. Simply the fact that someone you trust and respect tells you confidently, “You can do it,” and shows you ways to can be life changing. It’s so simple, but that’s something that also comes with growth. It’s good to have a voice that more people hear, because I know I will only use it for good. So I’m glad people want to listen to what I say, because I care. I care deeply.

I remember, actually, the only teacher I had that was still a working musician while i was at Berklee was my drumset teacher. Terri, I’m sure I’ve talked to you about her, Terri Lyne Carrington. She was the only one that would sometimes miss classes for a month because she was on tour. She would come back with all of this wisdom from being on tour, full of real life experiences. Her teaching style was absolutely the opposite to all of the other teachers i had, not only, but in part because she was out there. She was so real, she would share both the struggles as well as the joys, the technical knowledge as well as the knowledge to not let the industry eat you alive. So, I experienced first hand the power of a working, active artist who simultaneously teaches, and I believe we need more of that.

When you are a student and the teacher works in the arts, currently working and creating new work and they choose to spend time teaching you, it absolutely changes the dynamic. Art teachers tend to be jaded artists, like if they had the choice they would have chosen anything but teach. Whereas, this is, “I’m choosing because you the students are important. You’re teaching me as much as I’m teaching you.” It’s powerful, it will make a difference for the future of music.

All of that, to speak about demystification. Ask questions, always, ask questions.

Are there things when you were a student, or first starting out, that you wish you had known you could’ve just avoided in the first place?

I guess two things: Keep your eyes open. Keep your eyes open in regards to yourself, check in with how you are feeling, do it often. Look at the people around you, notice how they make you feel. But mostly take care of yourself. Of your heart and take care of your love for the music. Don’t let the love for the music rot. Take care of it. That is the only thing that will keep you going, if you don’t take care of that you will have a short career. So take care of that first and foremost: your love for the music, and the joy you find in making it, playing it, hearing it.

Trust yourself and always follow your intuition. It’s important to listen to others, but it’s equally important to listen to yourself. Be patient, and don’t try to rush making or releasing music. Or better, don’t rush anything. Be disciplined, but don’t rush. Be disciplined and always thrive to be better. Time always benefits art, I feel everybody’s in a rush now. Just take your time. With whatever it is you’re making, with how it sounds, and looks, and feels, and with finding the right people to surround yourself with. There’s no rush.