Not long ago, I had a long conversation with someone I haven't talked to for a long time.  It was really eye-opening, and was a good reminder to me that above all else, a person should remain true to oneself.  This person proved themself as a friend and a great ally in the music business years ago when I was first getting this singer/songwriter thing off the ground.  This person opened doors for me and introduced me to a lot of people that have since become friends and have enabled me to do many of the things I've done.  I've always been thankful for these things, more than I can say, though I've tried. 

A few years back, we had a falling out.  I followed through on an opportunity that was presented to me by someone this very person introduced me to, and found out that there was actually a major, unspoken disagreement between the two.  For the first time, I saw this person I'm speaking of in a different light; they had introduced me to someone who could do things for me, apparently not so that I could benefit from starting a relationship, but so that this person could "show me off"… basically hoping to dangle me as a carrot and yank me away when snatched at.  When I actually went for the deal, this person told me they felt betrayed and hurt, and said they would think twice before offering to help me again.  I thought this was a big load of crap, and told this person exactly why, re-stating that though I was thankful for everything they had ever done for me, I was not interested in being a bargaining tool in someone else's disagreement.  We have kept in somewhat casual contact since then, not nearly as personally and as often, but time had seemed to be healing that wound. 

I talked with this person on the phone a few weeks back, and listened as the conversation started supremely positive, got shaken up, and then took an equally supreme nose-dive.

It began with me being offered an interesting career opportunity; one I'd never considered myself qualified for, but something that could be facilitated through this person's connections in a way that could (possibly) gain me a lot of national exposure.  Then this person told me that a condition of taking this opportunity would be that I must be sure "not to make (them) look bad".  As if  A) I was a complete amateur who needed to be told this, and B) I would otherwise assume that making them look bad might help my odds of landing the gig.  It was pretty condescending the way I was lectured by this "old friend", but that wasn't the worst of it.  This person went on to tell me that I should stick to my older material when dealing with this opportunity, because, they said repeatedly, "Conduit" was NOT a record I should have put out.  "That record just wasn't YOU at all", I was told at least three times.  "I mean, it didn't ROCK.  It wasn't Seth Horan.  It was like a contemporary pop album!  All those ballads…?  I didn't get it.  It wasn't what you're about as an artist at ALL."

At this point I resisted the urge to tell this person to fuck off forever and slam the phone down.  I did this successfully, and instead, in a calm, casual tone, explained that "Conduit" was indeed a soft record (while reminding this person that the title track is, in fact, the heaviest, most hard rocking song I've ever recorded).  It was me, going through a lot of personal introspection about the life I'd been living and writing about it, and making a conscious decision to leave the band off most of the tracks.  Though this person seemed to believe I'd made some grave error and "forgotten" to rock out more, I gave assurance that this was entirely intentional, and that the response from my listeners was overwhelmingly positive in every way.  In fact, it is the only record of mine that has ever gotten a major label talent scout excited.

"Well, whatever.  Just stick to the old material and really rock out if you want to [take the offered opportunity]."  

I decided at that point that I didn't want to end the conversation on a bad note (though I had already entirely written this person off from this point forward), and simply went along with everything they said for the next fifteen minutes as they told me how to take advantage of this "rocking" opportunity they were presenting, saying yes, yes, yes, and repeatedly assuring them that of course I would not "make them look bad".  I thanked the person profusely for thinking of me and presenting this opportunity, and hung up both the phone, and our friendship. 

Sometimes you have to worry less about what others think of you and more about how you feel when you look in the mirror every morning.

Unlikely as it may seem, sometimes it just takes the right music to set the mood when you're spending quality time with that special someone in Mechanicsville, Virginia. Might I recommend:

Well, that’s not entirely fair. I should say, everyone has their price, and everyone has their motivations, and put the two together, and… yeah. I was thinking about this the other night, standing in a bar in Somerville, Mass. A friend of mine, new to Boston and looking to network as a musician, had the opportunity to play a few songs on stage in front of the guy who books one of the most high profile songwriter venues in the country. He got up there and played his heart out on three songs, and he sounded great. I watched the guy he was hoping to get heard by. This dude is a total alcoholic, and was just sitting in the corner, sloshed, yakking away with a bunch of people. Hey; I mean, he’s entitled to do what he wants with his night off, and just because he books a serious, elite venue for songwriters where tickets sell into the $30 range and the audience is silent and respectful doesn’t mean he can’t go to a bar and get fubar in front of the amateurs. I don’t think he listened to a note my friend played. He and his friends walked out of the room after the first song, and returned halfway through the third one. Again, I can’t be upset about that, because the guy is not obligated to listen to people play just because he books a room. The issue is this: at the end of the night when everyone was getting ready to leave, my friend was introduced to this sloshed venue booker. My friend was respectful and didn’t ask what the guy thought of his performance… he really didn’t get a chance to, actually, because upon hearing of my friend’s background and connections, out came this: ”PROVIDENCH? You gon’ get mea geggin Providench? Yah…” He wanted a gig of his own (he performs, himself) in the city my friend had just moved to town from (where he still books a series). One could argue that he let all manner of social grace slip away due to the fact that he was hammered. But he wasn’t too hammered to realize an opportunity that he could try to exploit for his own end. And he KNEW my friend had just played. He knew he had walked out on him, and not listened to a note. He knows he books the most sought after venue in the northeast. And he didn’t mention anything about that to my friend; he just spat out a request for my friend to help HIM. And consider my friend’s positon: he’s new to town; he’s serious about his songwriting career. He considers that regardless of the circumstances of their meeting, this guy will (probably) remember this when he’s sober, even if he doesn’t remember hearing him play, and there’s a chance to start some kind of relationship here… and maybe this is a sheepish foot in an ugly, ugly door. So I asked him afterwards, “So are you gonna get him a gig in Providence?” ”Hell yes I am.” I fucking hate this game.

I'm a travelling musician, and as such, I send out mass emailers once every month or so to keep people up to date on what I’m doing. As an indie musician, I ride this strange line of personal interaction with my fans. Many come to shows and simply appreciate the music from afar, but there are a number of folks that have gradually become friends; people I will hang out with after a show and honestly enjoy the company of, but who don’t call or email all the time (and vice versa) and we don't ask about each other's families, etc... and that's totally cool. I’ve always welcomed emails from people, and whenever I possibly can, I reply to them. I figure if anyone takes the time to write to me because they like what I do, the least I can do is reply in kind. All that said, there are some people out there who remain a consistent reminder that the bulk of America remains asleep on their feet, and either can’t read, can’t be bothered to take the time, or are just stupid. Today I sent out my first mass email of the year, and the circus began an hour ago with the insane reply-fest. Here are some highlights: First off there are the unsubscribe emails. It happens all the time. After every show, I average ten to twenty new names on my mailing list, and after every monthly email, I’d say I lose about three to five people. There are a ton of reasons people unsubscribe from email lists, and there is no reason for me to take it personally. At the end of every emailer, there’s a little caveat that says, “If you wish to be unsubscribed, send an email HERE… yadda yadda yadda”. And the system tells me “So and so unsubscribed today”. And that’s it. No sweat. …UNLESS you are dealing with some of the people that wrote me today. Unreal. Sometimes someone will miss the unsubscribe instruction at the bottom of the mailer, and will write me asking off the list in a tiny, one sentence email. I quickly write them back and give them the email address to write to, and we go about our merry way. But sometimes I get the absolute rudest people on Earth, typing in all caps, demanding “to be removed immediately”, or “I do not want to be asked if I am sure, just take me off!” or “I don’t care about this”… ….or the cake-taker of today… a woman wrote me a two paragraph email explicitly detailing the history of a)how she came to be on the list two years ago, b) why she had never been to a show, c) why she felt she didn’t need to stay on the list, d) that she didn’t want to sound rude, and e) that “it’d be great if someone could take me off.” She must have spent twenty minutes writing it and making sure it sounded “nice”. If she had ONCE taken the time to read any of the emails I’d sent her for the past two years, she might have seen the unsubscribe message and just gotten off the thing. Instead, she wasted her time. And mine. I suppose it’s easier for complete strangers not to care, but what’s surprising is how many emails I get from people I know after I send these things out, asking questions that just make me wanna be that comedian who says, “Heeeere’s your sign.” In my monthly emails, I include my calendar of tourdates for the next while, and I lay out the month and day, the city, and the name of the venue for each show. Pretty basic. This month, I not only included the calendar, but preceded it with detailed news of where I’d be spending the month of February: I’m playing each week in Bridgeport CT, and touring around New England and New York. I also announced that I will be moving to Reno, Nevada later this spring, and I mentioned that location twice in the email. …Which is why I have to hold my head in my hands to read some of the replies. Today alone I have already received EIGHT emails containing text like, “Hey; will you be anywhere near Chicago in February?”, or “Wow, you’re moving to Connecticut! Congratulations!”, or “Hey; so you’re moving, huh? Where to?”, and on and on and on. I love acknowledgement for what I do, but the point of sending a mass emailer is to reach everyone at once. I say things with the idea that I won't need to say them again. and again. and again... and it’s nice that people will just take the time to remember you’re alive, I guess. Maybe they’re one-upping me by just writing at all… after all, I’m the guy sending a mass email to three thousand people, and they wrote to ME specifically. I realize as well that I’ve only bitched about the small percentage of emails that I DON’T like reading… there are many many more that are beyond wonderful, and some that are partially responsible for me not giving up when times have been tough. I don’t mean to belittle the importance of feedback from people who care. But those people that don’t care, yet somehow care enough to TELL me they don’t, directly or indirectly… yeah. They’re the reason I still hold on to my faith in humanity by a piece of dental floss. It's been a trying month. I'm just venting.

Women aren't as complicated as most men would like to believe. What's Jack Nicholson's line from that movie?? I don't remember it verbatim, but it's something to the effect of "How do I think like a woman? Well, I start from the point of view of a man, and then I remove logic and reason." And in actuality, men are just as irrational just as often, as evidenced by... well, ME. I've tried on many occasions to create relationships while touring, and for the most part, it just doesn't work. And I logically and reasonably make note of each time things end, and yet I still try and try again. It's definitely a human need to have a companion to go through life with; it's a dynamic of existence, and one of the most powerful forces in the physical universe; I've always felt it to some degree. But, like the man says, it's also one of the single biggest sources of abberration in the physical universe. Dammit. You can communicate all you want on cellphones and instant messages, and you can keep each other up to speed on your personal reality, and you can have genuine affinity for each other to the nth degree, but if you can't actually BE together, or experience life together simultaneously; if you can't be around each other long enough to fall into a comfortable rhythm... then you will eventually become less real to each other sooner or later. If you're not building something, then what are you investing so much time and energy in maintaining a "relationship" for when you could just call it what it is - a close friendship - and eliminate all the inevitable disappointment from the equation? I know ONE touring, married musician that is still happily and endlessly devoted to his marriage. The way it works? She lives with him on the road; she's his manager. They both have an active role in creating their life together -- she's not out of his loop at all, and they never have to go for weeks without seeing each other and then quickly and intensely catch up before he goes away again. I am slightly envious of that. Just slightly. It's tough to stay rational in a relationship. It's tough to try and remember to take stock of the important things: are we building something? is this heading somewhere that both of us are happy with and looking forward to? Basically, is there a POINT to doing this? It's ultimately an emptiness that follows sex without a future; trysts almost never amount to much... but so many people in my line of work make a game out of the 'belt notching'... and I've been there; I've most certainly been there... There's resolution coming; I'm making the decisions, and I'm creating it, so I know... but I can't help thinking there's a reckoning around the corner, too... so I must be creating that as well. Dammit.

I have a lot of catching up to do; I’m well aware. I have a whole month to cover, really, and it’s probably the busiest month I’ve had in a year! Here’s the reader’s digest version: I flew from Indianapolis to Boston, took the train, commuter rail, and bus to Marlborough for the NACA east conference, had a blast, took a taxi, commuter rail, and train back to Boston, rode in Tom Bianchi’s car to Laconia, New Hampshire, played a show. The next morning, rode in Tom’s car back towards Boston, when it died on the freeway. Called AAA and rode in a tow truck the rest of the way with Tom and Joeseephus-wif-no-teefus, the friendly driver. Hung out in Boston for the remainder of the week with Tom, Danielle, Keith, Gina, Teresa, and Amanda; busked in the subways a little bit, and most importantly, had an awesome show at Club Passim, where Tom, Gonzalo Silva and I pulled off the third annual “Three Men On Bass” show with aplomb. (Waits while way too many people go to dictionary and look up: "plomb"....) Took a taxi to Logan Airport the next morning. Took a plane to Salt Lake City, Utah, where Joel Ackerson was waiting for me. Joel and I caught up over dinner, then drove to meet Amber Rubarth and Rodney and Erin Branigan, and the next day we all caravaned eight hours to Reno. Spent an awesome whirlwind weekend in Reno hanging with a lot of important people in my life, and managed to fit some shows in there too, it seemed… Played a great show in Carson City with Joel, where we again proved that sometimes we sound our best when we haven’t played a note together in a few months. The next day, Amber, Joel, Sol'Jibe, Rodney and I succeeded in inadvertently skewing the NACA west conference when our gig got rescheduled by the Hilton hotel for their opening night… at one point it seemed like we had just as many students watching our showcase as were actually checking out the NACA showcases they were supposed to be watching! The next day, I played bass on two songs on Kate Cotter’s upcoming album, and the day after that I got on a plane to Albuquerque. I spent the next four days playing music appreciation classes at UNM, a show at a dance club downtown, an over-capacity, awesome blowout at Irysh Mac’s, and a weird gig at a mafiesque lounge/restaurant/…thing. I also had an experience with giving someone way too much credit, and it ended up biting me in the ass. I ended up leaving the Burque without one of my bags, and as such have had to do laundry every four days since then, but at least I got to my flight on time (thanks, Beth!). Back to Reno went I for one day of off-time, and an evening of papoosas and ice cream with friends. (For those that don’t know, papoosas are an amazing El Salvadorian delicacy. They’re just like crack, I’m sure; only with nutritional value). Then the next afternoon, I packed up and got in Amber Rubarth’s car, and we spent the next week (this PAST week, actually) driving over to San Francisco and down the coast through Santa Cruz and Santa Maria, playing shows with fellow performer Michael Shelton. We also took a break in Santa Maria at the home of the Kossuths (where I have played many a house concert), and had an awesome Thanksgiving. We made it in post-TurkeyDay-traffic down as far as Orange, and once there, I picked up a rental car and parted ways with my companions. The next day I went to Newport Beach and caught up with Orange County songstress Kerry Getz, sitting in a bit on her gig at Muldoon’s. The day after that I caught up on some email and started prepping for the coming weeks, and then yesterday I played a noontime concert at Chapman University in Orange. Which started slow and ended alright, despite the fact that my voice is only at about 80% right now, but which was followed by the news that they didn’t have my money ready… the second year in a row that that’s happened. Nothing crushes a touring musician’s Zen bubble like finishing a show and then having the financial rug yanked from under him… And that about catches me up, I think; November in a nutshell. So do you get the gist of why I haven’t had much time to formulate a proper update?? Show details to follow. There is a light at the end of the tunnel!...

I spent this past week touring from Reno to Orange with Amber Rubarth and Michael Shelton, and one of the conversations that came up at one point was how time seems to have passed. I realized that 2004 is almost over, and how LONG a year it seems to have been. 2003, by contrast, seemed to just sprint by, even while it was happening. This year feels like it’s been around for two or three. And I’ve been thinking about why that is. 2003, for all the moving around I did, was a relatively easy year to get through, because until the summer, I was pretty much coasting. I had shut myself down emotionally and spiritually, riding a wave of euphoria I picked up in the fall of 2002. However, by May of 2003 I was lying face down on the beach, paddling sand, obstinate and oblivious to the lack of water around me. Retiring to Reno to start work on “Conduit” was a huge wake-up call, and probably set the stage for me to carelessly throw my heart away less than a month later. Then “Notwithstanding” got re-released, and I was in love, and those two things together rushed me through the rest of the fall… and then my heart, which I’d thrown up in the air a couple months earlier, finally landed on the ground uncaught with a resounding SPLUT. And then the van died. And then it was winter. And then it seemed that Sol’Jibe, Kate Cotter, Robert Gilmer and I were the only people in America who hadn’t caught the damn flu as we huddled together to finish out our tour… and admittedly, when I visited my family last Christmas, I was tired, and really ready to be around some people that love me no matter what. 2004 has been a sobering experience. I made a decision not to take any crap this year, and what I’ve been reminded of is that when you decide not to take any crap, you make a note of all the times you deal with someone who’s GIVING you crap, and I realized just how much was being thrown at me all the time. And so there’s more conflict in my life, and dealing with conflict definitely stretches time out. And it’s been a long year. I believe I see the light at the end of the tunnel, though. This string of conflict seems like it’s amounting to less of a catastrophe and more of a learning experience overall. I just noticed that have a new little line on my brow. I was going to name it “2004”, and play a little game with myself wherein I spend my impending 30’s trying to slow down its inevitable spread across my forehead. That’s going to involve making some changes in a lot of areas of my life… but I’m okay with it. From what I can see, injecting dose after dose of positivity into negative areas affects a gradual change to a better state, so here we go; continuing the injections... (...of positivity, I mean… not botox or anything… just to clarify… I mean, I WAS just talking about lines on my head…) That all said, stay tuned for the post about the tangible aspects of this past month…

INDIANAPOLIS AIRPORT – They should have announced the pre-boarding call at least five minutes ago, but I don’t even see the plane docked at the gate yet… serves me right for doing 80mph the whole way here back from Iowa, worried about missing this flight…

I’m about to depart for Boston tonight after somewhat successfully overcoming the latest chapter in what may become the title of my autobiography: “Seth Horan Has Broken The Van …again.”
…wait. Activity. An announcement…

You have GOT TO BE KIDDING ME.
My flight has been cancelled.

INDIANAPOLIS AIRPORT… NEW TERMINAL, AN HOUR LATER – At least I’m not spending the night here. I’m now routed to Boston on a new airline, and it’s nonstop, so I’ll only arrive about a half hour later than originally planned. Good for my already nutty sleep schedule, and good for poor Tom Bianchi, the guy in charge of picking me up at Logan later tonight. :)
I find that when I try to cram too much of a play-by-play account of my gigs in this thing, I never have enough time to stay current, and I fall way behind. So let me say simply that the Midwest is a vast treasure trove of culture that I was not entirely aware of, and I can’t wait to return on a much more frequent basis. There are a number of reasons the Midwest appeals to me, and having had quite a few hours to muse about it, I’ve narrowed it down to the following:
-There’s a pretty cool mesh of music out here! The scenes in these towns are open to everything; there’s no stigma against sounding ‘too east coast’ or ‘too west coast’, because people are just so thankful to have touring music from ANYWHERE coming out as far as where they live. My audiences in Kansas, Omaha, Iowa City, the Quad Citeis and Cedar Rapids have by and large been respectful and enthusiastic. The venues have been a pleasure to work with, and the people are so giving! You know how in the south you get treated to Southern Hospitality, but the whole time, the person providing it keeps saying every five minutes, “So haddaya like that Southern Hospitality, hmm?” Well, people here are just as nice, only they don’t remind you so much. :)
-The beef is awesome. I’ve been told that beef in the Midwest is mo’ betta than beef anywhere else, and… it is. There is no “low fat menu option” in family restaurants out here, and there are plenty of family restaurants. Indy has Yats, which I will one day write the jingle for; I love California cuisine; I am a green chili freak in the Southwest, Texas barbeque is all that and then some, and New England Clam Chowder in a bread bowl, when actually made and eaten in the same day, in New England, is a religious experience. But a simple hamburger out here becomes way more than that… I’ve said too much, and already sound weird, but yeah… the beef rocks.
-It’s so easy to navigate! It wasn’t all that real to me just how many cool towns are less than a day away from each other. I’m the guy who says “Oh… Atlanta on Friday and Baltimore on Saturday? SURE!” and then curses myself as I’m driving. It never really clicked that Chicago is 4 hours from the Quad Cities, which is an hour from Iowa City, which is a half hour from Cedar Rapids, which is another 2 hours from Des Moines, which is another 2 hours from Omaha, which is another hour and a half from Kansas City…. How come I never came this way before???
-The girls here have magnificent booty! …I’m sorry. I just had to say something. I mean… conditions must just present the opportunity for the perfect combination of corn-fed diets and lots of walking… or something. Or maybe it’s just a prominent genetic trait out here. I can hear Rodney and Joel laughing at me right now, but I don’t care. Iowa City nearly killed me from all the whiplash in my neck. It was remarkable. Sorry; I know it’s somewhat chauvinistic, but as I believe I’ve mentioned, I’m not strong… one glance and all my resolve blows like confetti… ;)

Anyway… I am already plotting a return trip in the spring, which hopefully I can parlay into a return to the NORTHwest, which I have heinously neglected since my first trip through there in Summer of ’03. I’m getting serious about how I lay out my schedule in the new year… this year-round habit of constantly traveling and driving vehicles to their graves is wearing at me. After another two weeks, I should be making a big announcement about how I’m going to do it from here on out. It all depends on these next two college booking conferences; this weekend and next. Fingers crossed!

And of course, the biggest thing on my mind this week, and my reason for interrupting a tour heading from Iowa to Reno via BOSTON (many people have been wondering about that….) is the third annual THREE MEN ON BASS concert. Tom Bianchi, Gonzalo Silva, and me, bringing the solo bassist/singer/songwriter idiom into the legitimate mainstream, kicking and screaming. :)

OMAHA NE – WOW. I just played my first ever show at Mick’s Music Bar in Omaha, Nebraska, and this is a first for me. I was booked as the headliner in the premier music listening room in a city I have never played before, relying on the press and on the opening act to encourage people to attend. I’ve been hanging out in Omaha for most of the week, playing open mics and meeting the people on the scene, and that helped a lot, too, but I have never taken it as a given that anyone who says, “Oh yeah, man; I’m DEFINITELY coming to your show!” will actually go.

Well last night, 57 people paid to get in. Not including the small guest list that my opener, John Henry, had. It was righteous, and way more than I expected. And the people were awesome! I fed off their energy; they fed off mine… and poof; there was a little magic in the room. (I barely noticed the one table that seemed to be from Flagstaff…) It was wonderful, and Michael Campbell, the guy who owns the place, is a gentleman and a scholar, and has done an incredibly good deed for this city. To everyone in attendance: THANK YOU so much for accepting me like you did. You made my week!! I’m gonna get stickers made that just say: “Omaha; Who Knew?” …These people are hungry for a good show, and I’m gonna send allllll my friends out this way… this town deserves it! :)

...odd to quote Chuck D while listening to the Animators (who RULE, and who should be listened to by all), but that's what kind of month it's been.  My last few ramblings happened on my webpage road journal...   I suppose I need to unify them and just pick one place to post, but...   not yet.

So I've been all over the place... as usual.  The drives have been longer than usual, and it's been rather taxing on the body, the psyche, and the wallet...   but I've got just over one more month before my new album is released, and I'll hang on until the college semester starts again... (for those not in the know, a touring musician is at his most meager living in the summer, when the college gigs are nowhere to be found...)  I've been watching the diet, making friends with the Emergen-C packets that pretty much keep me alive, and trying to start cycles in a new unit of time...  on the "me" dynamic, it's starting to happen, and I've been pretty uptone and productive.  On the "girls" dynamic, it's been slow going...   the last woman to turn my head nearly ripped it off it happened so fast... though no fault of her own, I'd been pretty pre-occupied with her for the past few months.  But enough things are going well lately that I've just kind of been SICK of depressing myself by thinking about her.  So, for better or worse, I stopped.  :) 

...and one night a few weeks ago, I wrote down everything I want in a woman.  Without thinking of anyone in particular...  just being totally idealistic.  I know there's a little thing in my "who I want to meet" blurb, but I mean, I got REALLY specific.   When I was done, I read it back to myself, and then went down the list to see how this woman I'd been obsessing about stacked up against my "ideal girl"....

...she was on the same planet, but definitely not in the same country.  It was pretty liberating to realize.  Is that all it takes to get over someone?  Sheeeeeeeit.

So life is good.  And hot.  And I'm a travelling musician.  And that's not a burden to bear right now.  And it's been awhile since I felt that way.  Yehaw. 

:)