Here is a picture of a piece of paper i decorated in 1988. It's been living in a shoebox and has survived five moves:


(note: i wrote this in the spring, a few days after coachella. i let it sit in my drafts folder because....i don't know why. i just did.
the other night i was twittering about how much i loved the cure and wil wheaton and zoe keating both chimed in and encouraged me & i pulled it out of it's misery and am finally sending it. i should also add that @robertsmithdoll & i are now friends since i provided him with back-up in his online webcast fight against @billycorgandoll. you can watch the recap at partyontheinternet.com for now)

Dear Robert Smith,

The weirdest thing about writing you this letter is the constant temptation I'm feeling to use words I've read thousands of times from my own fans, written on all variety of international stationary and ripped-off spiral-bound school-notebook paper: "I know you're busy. You must get lots of letters like this. You must hear this all the time...."

And should you never happen to read this (and it's really fucking long), that's ok. I am writing it for me as much as for you.

And I'm also writing it for my own fans, because I think they'll relate to what I'm going to say and I think it might help them to understand me.

****

(audio cue: for those of you if you really ARE going to read this long fucking letter, I suggest you throw an old favorite record on for good measure. it might help. i suggest a cure record. or something sad. i'll wait. ok, now read.)

****

So. I saw you play last night at the Coachella festival outside LA.

I played the day before on a different stage, and I've just finished a really long and grueling and pretty fucking wonderful world tour promoting my own new record which came out in the fall (and it's called Who Killed Amanda Palmer and I think you'd really like it). Coachella was basically the last stop before I take my first true break from touring in a long, long looooooooong time. I've been traveling endlessly and brutally with The Dresden Dolls - and now solo - for the better part of eight years.

And I've gotten a little lost.

Last night, you helped find me.

I need to explain. And I need to thank you, and also...I owe you an apology.

Last night, before you took stage, I was feeling exhausted but happy. I hate festivals, usually. I've been touring too long to think that I could actually enjoy attending one. But this time was different. When I saw the Coachella line-up and saw that it included The Cure and Leonard Cohen and My Bloody Valentine, I decided to turn the weekend into a vacation, instead of coming straight home to Boston.

So I played Saturday (my set, by the way, was magnificent and I crowd-surfed to Wagner) and by Sunday I was feeling the weight of the year since the release of my own album lifting off my shoulders. I found friends here and there in the festival mess and actually sort of starting enjoying myself. I hadn't thought much about what the experience of seeing The Cure might be like. had simply planned it out months before in my off-handed responsible-adult kind of way: "hm....need to book flight to coachella, must check festival line-up, hmm, leonard cohen and the cure are playing, their music changed my life once, long ago....quick note to adult self, should see them play, might have some sort of awesome nostalgic experience, leave time in schedule for that possibility."

I don't GET excited anymore. Not like I used to. I wasn't even thinking about what to expect from you.

I just knew I should be there.

My Bloody Valentine played right before you and I hadn't known what to expect of them, either. I was alone, and the sun had just set, the cold was coming in over the desert and the palm trees were illuminated and beautiful. I'd ditched my crew and was enjoying the feeling of being solitary and anonymous, two drinks in my system, exhausted from my own shows, finding a comfy little spot not too far from the main stage to savor whatever it was that My Bloody Valentine would dish out.

I hate this: but I barely enjoy watching bands anymore, at festivals or anywhere really. I'm kind of burnt. After so many years of touring, you can probably relate. It starts to blur. Bands playing on stage start to resemble ants building hills. Kind of cool....but very practical. The magic starts to wear off after you realize that they're up there WORKING, day after day.

But...I'd really, really loved My Bloody Valentine in high school.

They'd been a mysterious and sex-charged sonic force given to me on a 90-minute tape by one of my first loves, a boy named Stu. I wore that tape out..."Loveless" on one side, "Isn't Anything" on the other. I'd never heard music like it before and I've never heard anything like it since - they created something completely unique and perfect. It was my summer soundtrack after tenth grade, along with a Velvet Underground (VU) and a They Might Be Giants (Flood) tape. It was the music that lived in my head for that week of the parentally-forbidden boat excursion to nantucket island where Stu was working a summer job as a short-order cook and where I had my first escape from my little suburban town life, having the kind of sex where you understand for the first time what everyone's been talking about....the real, loving, deep, pleasurable, flickery-afternoon-light-streaming-onto-a-futon-filled-with-sand-from-the-beach kind of sex. My Bloody Valentine played all that weekend and all that year, keeping me feeling special, fillin gmy ears daily with their mostly-impossible-to-understand-lyrics. I never knew what any of the band members looked like (since the tapes had no artwork) and knew nothing about the history of the band (since there was no internet). I never thought in a million years I'd see them live.

Their set mesmerized me (what perfectly controlled grace, what unapologetic and passionate love-noise) and my heart started breaking open a little bit as I felt the reality of my long tour starting to end and the reflections and refractions of what I'd done - and what I was doing with music, with my life, with my fans - flooded into my brain. At exactly the moment I was struck dumb with the combination of pure guitar noise and the crashing realization all my own teenage fantasies really had come true (was I really playing at a festival with some of my favorite bands from high school? My Bloody Valentine, The Cure, Leonard Cohen? Pinch self....yes, I was, oh my god....I was, I really was.... GOD DAMMIT) a fan spotted me in the blaring noise, tapped me on the shoulder and held up her phone, onto which she'd written a text message: "I love you so much I can't even speak. Will you take a picture with me?"

I hugged that girl for dear life. She probably had no idea why I was crying so hard.

While she stood next to me, and we watched these serene noise-gods on stage playing to a rapt crowd, I let myself go and allowed myself to lose it. Put my hands in the air and closed my eyes and tried to put the music inside me. Towards the end of their set, they built and sustained a wall of shimmery sonic assault for about twenty minutes, the whole band barely moving on stage, just gracefully and subtly plucking miniature millimeters of guitar string that flowed through pedals, amps, wires and speaker cones to be transformed turned into crashing towers of decibels and lightyear piles of psychedelic raw sound radiating for miles into the cracked flat desert night. I swear to god, I'd only had two gin and tonics at that point. I hadn't taken ANY acid or ANYTHING.

My Bloody Valentine finished and I walked like a zombie, tears still streaking down my face, past the crowd, feeling dazed. I went back to the VIP tent, sank another gin and tonic. Then headed back out for your set. I clambered through the crowd and got a decent spot in the front left section, about 100 feet from the stage. And I waited.

I braced myself. Funny, I hadn't been expecting to feel like this. I was nervous. I was afraid, sort of.

I waited for you.

You...

You were my whole world for so many years of excruciating teenager-ness. From the first tapes I copied from my step-brothers ultra-cool tape collection, you had me. The rest of his collection (The Cocteau Twins, The Clash, The Replacements) well...I liked it all well enough, but it didn't speak to me. Not the way you did. There was something so honest, so painfully honest and real, about your words and your delivery. I desperately needed someone to believe. Someone who was telling the truth. As far as I could tell, nobody else was. The teachers and family around me were stupid, lame suburban pod-people, allowing themselves to be spoonfed the cultural koolaid. I was fourteen, I was an opinionated little twit, I wanted to feel and to scream, I needed allies, comrades, back-up, and I was pissed that I couldn't find any.

Mostly, I just needed a favorite band. Didn't everybody? I needed a home that was Mine, a t-shirt I could wear that would serve as a constant reminder to the rest of the eight-graders - all of whom, in my snot-nosed way, I considered irretrievably lost and flailing in their own personal suburban circles of fiery hell (aka The Mall) - that I actually did belong somewhere. So I abandoned The Stray Cats (sorry, Brian Setzer) and decided to devote myself soley The Cure. Those first few years of being in love with you were like any honeymoon stage of a relationship. My heart would pound if I flipped through the Cure section at the used record stores in Harvard Square and spotted a piece of vinyl with unfamiliar artwork (sadly, those were often $30 japanese imports that I could never afford and that were too big to effectively shoplift). Your posters were the cornerstones of my bedroom decor: one huge wall-sized poster on each side of my cluttered room, the main shrine above the defunct fireplace devoted to the Boys Don't Cry poster surrounded by strings of colored christmas lights. They glowed around your silhouetted figure and guitar, and I gazed nightly at your back. You turned away from me, hiding the tears in your eyes, in a truly ground-breaking Sensitive-Man-Stance. I felt certain that I was worshipping at the altar of the correct church.

(the poster is still - thanks mum - up in my old room, i took this picture a few days ago when i was out there eating dinner):

I bought every album, knew every word to every song, I read and re-read JD Salinger and Albert Camus when I found out that you'd referenced them in your lyrics.

I bought every piece of paraphernalia I could find - buttons, patches, 7"-vinyl interviews and shirts (I had a collection of eight, two of which I still keep and treasure and occasionally wear to bed when I need comforting).

I drew pictures of your face and your hair (it was very, very difficult getting your hair right, dude) all over my school binders and on pieces of cardboard that I would add to the growing collage on my wall. I re-painted your album covers on various surfaces. I spent hours in class perfecting the band's name font as it appeared on "Head on The Door", working hard to get squiggly criggly letters just right. Once I had mastered this skill I applied it (using all variety of magic marker and fabric paints) to jackets, hats, ripped jeans, the inside of my closet and (occasionally, when I got bored) my forearms. I drew a cartoon for my xeroxed high-school fanzine depicting The Cure in a galactic battle against my nemesis, that most-hateful of bands that represented everything wrong and false: New Kids on the Block. Your band won.

I tried to write songs like you. The THINGS you sang, the way you weren't afraid to peel yourself open and purge, seeth and cry about the brutal feelings that we ALL HAD but weren't expressing, that is why I loved you. All other music fell short. You were Real.

I listened to you and thought: THAT. I want to do THAT. Whatever he's doing. Whatever he's making me feel....THAT'S what I want to do to people someday.

I didn't even know what you were talking about half the time, but I knew you were reaching deeper, further, realer than the other records in my collection. In your lyrics, you were shredding people apart for being superficial, for not being authentic. People said the music was gloomy, depressing, over-dramatic. I never heard it that way. I just heard it as honest. I've learned from watching thousands of bands over the years: it's not enough to just ooze pain or complain into a microphone. Lots of bands try to do that and fail miserably. You did it right. You were tricky. You used just enough words, just the right words, always the perfect package...enough melody to draw me in to hold me there and drive the stake of prickly truthfulness through my heart.

And at the end of the day, you write a damn catchy pop tune when you feel like it. And that inspired me so much as a writer...the fact that you could be so passionately agonizing on one track and then turn around bopping and dancing light-heartedly the next. I followed your example and I assumed that everything was up for grabs when it came to songwriting. You made this ok.

I wanted to know things about you. I needed to.

There was no Wikipedia, no Google.

So I read whatever information I could find and where I got this information pre-internet, I don't know exactly....mostly magazine interviews, I think, the accompanying pictures from which I would clip out and paste to the wall. MTV and 120 minutes would occasionally let information drop, which I would suck up like a sponge. I learned enough to know that somehow I had to save the money for a ticket to Crawley, Sussex, in the United Kingdom, where I would somehow run into you and that you (according to a story in my head that seemed very real at the time) would instantly befriend me. I vagely knew that you were married (happily, according to all counts, and possibly even with children) but this was somehow easy to overlook. Clearly, the minute you met this very intelligent, beautiful and raw open wound named Amanda, you'd probably just leave your wife (who'd understand, of course, and she could even hang out with us...she was British and Your Wife and thus probably pretty hip). And you would most likely ask me to marry you. I would say yes. Tickets to England were expensive. I was frustrated. When my parents informed me that we were going on a family trip to London the spring that I turned fifteen, I was excited MOSTLY because I assumed this would be the trip that would bring us closer together. The closest I actually got to finding you over there was the UK-only pink-cover cassette version of "Three Imaginary Boys" at HMV on oxford street. My sister Alyson took a picture of that moment (note the double denim!!!):

I wasn't thinking about how or whether any of this would come into focus when I made the plans to see you. As I stood there, packed in with the other bodies at the festival, feeling free, feeling ready for anything, feeling grateful, most of all, that I'd taken the time out of my life to be standing here in this desert at the moment to see my old favorite band play, the cogs started turning. This was what I'd wanted, this was the feeling I'd signed up for. The nostalgia. This was why I'd bought my ticket to spend the extra day here. I wanted to re-live something. Right? I wasn't sure. I hadn't really given it any thought. I figured it only made sense given that the closest I'd ever come to having a religious experience was at a Cure concert in 1991.

Oh god, that show....that show that I looked forward to for months and months and months and months. Due to a massive stroke of synchronicity my mother, who had only Rolling Stones and Beatles and Fleetwood Mac and Handel in her record collection, had an ex high-school sweetheart who was driving a truck in your touring crew. She knew nothing about the rock road, but he'd come through town a few years before and hooked us up with Beach Boys tickets. That was my first real concert, I was 12. It was boring. I didn't really care about the Beach Boys. But a few years later he phoned again and said he was driving for The Cure and she recognized the name...no doubt from seeing it plastered all over her youngest daughter's bedroom walls, school binders, and (occasionally) forearms. I remember the sheer volume of the scream, on the order of thousands of decibels, that escaped my mouth when I was told that I could not only GO TO THE SHOW, but POSSIBLY GET BACKSTAGE. I ran, making banshee-like sounds, to the phone and called Holly, my best and only friend and fellow Cure-devotee (though not, I was certain, as devoted as I....since she was convinced she was going to marry Johnny Depp from 21 jump street, who was totally not as hot as you). We would go together. I dreamed night after night about how you'd breeze by me in some anonymous backstage hallway, recognize that I was your true love, and possibly make out with me. I knew this was a distinct possibility because by penpal Eve Stoddard had been to a Jane's Addiction show at a concert at the EXACT same venue, had snuck backstage, run into Perry Farrell randomly and HE had kissed HER. Obviously, this was rock and roll and anything was possible. I plotted and spent countless hours thinking of what I would say to you when we finally met. I barely slept the night before the show.

left: gothy little amanda, right: holly and me.

It was the Disintigration tour, you opened with "Plainsong".

****

(audio cue, for those listening, please stop reading and throw "plainsong" from "disintigration" into your speakers. if you don't have it, download it. and you know what? just get all of disintegration if you don't have it and let it play for the remainder of this letter-reading. why the fuck not? you'll thank me, it's one of the best records in the world. sorry, robert, back to your letter.).

****

As the lights went to black and the crowd roared and those first few chimey sounds started to fill the air, I felt my heart racing. I was going to see you.

Really see you. See you in the flesh. Hear you singing, watch your voice make sounds, live, for me, to me. To us.

My senses sharpened. I held my breath.

When that music crashed into place (and what a perfect choice, that one, a perfect set opener, and perfect album opener....and god, just a perfect song: the huge major-chord crash of joyfully celebration with lyrics as dark-light, lush and vast and deep and bittersweet as love itself), when that first giant synthesizer belted it's long, jagged and beautiful wave forms into my ears and meshed with the smash of cymbals and dazzling of lights....in that moment, my heart exploded. I now knew something I didn't know before.

I've never forgotten that moment.

Tears streamed down my face and I thought THIS, THIS THIS - it was a feeling that I wanted to bottle and eat and never forget and repeat again and again as long as I lived. Every hour I'd spent longing, every doodle on every notebook, every lyric that I'd quietly memorized and wondered about, all the love I felt for you, for everything, it was all trapped up in this one moment. Not belonging, not feeling right, not feeling human, not feeling good enough, all those feelings were crushed away by the music, by these magic sounds, by the sound of your voice. Here, I belonged. Here, life was perfect. I don't know if my mouth screamed, but my heart did. In pure joy. I don't remember much else of the set. I was ecstatic.

I brought home a souvenir of that night, an empty envelope that my mother's truck driver friend gave to me with all of the bands autographs. I still have it, carefully hidden away behind one of your posters in my parents house. I used to take it out every few weeks and just look at it and think: he touched this.

I was 16. Last night, I was 32. I found myself being recognized in the crowd at Coachella, a few people behind me calling out my name...they had seen my set, they were fans of mine. They were happy I was standing there with them. I was happy they were standing there with me. We were excited, The Cure was about to come on.

I looked around to see who was standing near me. I was alone.

I struck up a conversation with the guy next to me, who seemed really nice. It turns out he was a devoted Cure fan named Dereck who had been to 12 or 13 shows. We started talking, but after a few minutes the crowd started to pulse and murmur: the band was coming. I exploded in cheers and screaming. I'd forgotten about this feeling. My enthusiasm was matched by a few around me, but I also felt sort of self-conscious. I was a bit overexcited. As you started playing, so many of my teeange memories and lovers started flooding back. Your face, your hair, your red lips, the sound of your voice were like a portal. Was this what I'd come for? Maybe.

You wound up tainting and nurturing my early loves and relationships, you were there as a thread, as a spectre, as a soundtrack.

There was Peter, the swarthy 18-year old who had a vintage cadillac convertible and worked crew on the summer-stock production of "The Wizard of Oz" that Holly and I both decided to join when we were 14. After I pledged my undying devition to him AND gave him my first (admittedly disastrous) blow-job in the woods near Granny Pond and he never fucking called me back after dropping me back home, I mourned for ages. I spent tearful weeks trying to decide what the proper reaction was to this kind of brutal rejection and heartbreak and I finally settled on mailing him a fountain-pen-written copy of the lyrics from "The Same Deep Water As You". At the time, it seemed perfect.

(I know now; he wasn't worthy.)

What the letter said was:
"kiss me goodbye
pushing out before i sleep
can't you see i try
swimming the same deep water as you is hard
the shallow drowned lose less than we
you breathe the strangest twist
upon your lips
and we shall be together..."

What the letter meant was:
"why did you drive me to the woods and let me to give you my first (admittedly disastrous) blowjob and then pretend I didn't exist, you dickhead?"

One summer later, there was Ira, the adorably tall boy with the pink mohawk and scratchy stubble and checkered jacket who I admired all summer in Harvard Square and wanted desperately to capture. When we finally got to his house in the woods of Concord (his mom far away somewhere) we entered his room in the dark, and he plugged in the christmas lights that surrounded his favorite band poster, a slightly smaller version of my shrine....it was you. you, with your back turned to us, hiding the tears in your eyes. You kept your back turned while we made out passionately and gave each other head (my blowjob technique had markedly improved by this point) and I was totally ecstatic because HOW RIGHT MUST THIS BE? THERE'S A FUCKING BOYS DONT CRY POSTER ON HIS WALL SURROUNDED BY CHRISTMAS LIGHTS. We were soul mates. Ira called me back. (But not for very long - that one also ended in sad agony).

My first real true love, the one I was with for a long long time...he loved you too. It was part of how we knew. He had a deeper, longer, more grown-up relationship with your music, but it went without saying that our common love of The Cure made us love each other more. You connected us. He called me back for years (and really, lovingly appreciated my now finely-honed blowjob techniques). He still calls me back, 15 years later, even though we're not together.

My first boyfriend in college, Matt, was a huge fan. We met after he saw me play my first college show and he showed up knocking at my dorm-room door later that night with a lit candle in a Twinkie. He died a little while after that.

One of my better friends and housemates around the same time, Chuck, who was the fattest, smartest person I knew, endeared himself to me forever one night and he didn't even know it. We were in the common room of our house, a place called Eclectic, watching the episode of South Park where you showed up as a special guest. When Cartman screamed "Disintegration is the best album EVER" at the end of the show as you vanished into the sunset, Chuck started violently punching a couch pillow and screaming "YES!!! YES!!! FUCK YES!!!" at the top of his lungs. I decided then to love him forever. He died a few years later.

I didn't have many friends, not then. Not normal friends my age. I wanted to. In high school and college I had lots of passing boyfriends and intersting romances, but rarely real friends, pal-types, the ones that stuck.

For a time, I was led astray.

I admit it. I tried to be goth.

I assumed that if goths liked The Cure, they must be My People. I wanted to hang out with people who felt deeply, who worshipped at the altar of emotions and radical truth, like I did. They wore black. So I started wearing black, assuming that I would be waving the proper visual freak flag to let people know how I was aligned. It didn't really work. I frequented goth clubs. It was a long, slow painful realization but I finally understood that just because these people were dancing to your music (or The Smiths or Depeche Mode) it didn't mean they would understand me. I spent a lot of time wandering around disoriented in goth clubs in boston, new york, all over germany....sitting at a dark corner table, nursing beers and smoking, waiting for a song I loved to come on so I could dance, alone. I liked dancing. I would close my eyes and forget. I would abandon myself. But I never met anyone I liked or who liked me. In fact, almost nobody talked to me, ever.

This was obviously not working. What was up with these mean and unfriendly fucking goth people??? Weren't we supposed to be united in our love of emotion, love, pain, joy in the brutally honest? Didn't they understand? Hadn't we come here to commune, to find each other? Obviously not. I felt betrayed and duped.

There was a little goth club in Bavaria (where I lived in 1996) that I would religiously attend every tuesday night. I would dress in black, I would dance, and I would pray and hope that some german goth might talk to me and be my friend. There was a boy there with hair like you, so I considered him an ally. One night, I finally got up the never to talk to one of the girls he was with. Later that night he grabbed my head and pulled out a chunk of my hair, which he shoved in my face. "Don't talk to my girlfriend, or I'll kill you", he said. His friends apologized and told me he was drunk. My head hurt for a long time.

I quit goth.

Looking at the crowd around me at Coachella, I realized: there wasn't a single person in black. Even the people who were obvious fans and knew every song; they were wearing white, gold, pink, blue. What the fuck was this, when did THIS happen? I realized, slowly, that you became huge while I wasn't looking. In 1989, everyone who listened to you was black-clad. It must have changed. I leaned over and yelled over the music to my new best friend Derek (who was wearing a white and blue button up shirt) "WHERE ARE THE GOTHS? ALL THESE PEOPLE ARE WEARING PINK."

"GOTHS UP FRONT PROBABLY" he shouted back. "THERE AREN'T THAT MANY OF THEM, ANYMORE."

I started talking to him more. I couldn't believe this guy was a cure fan, he looked so COMPLETELY ungoth. I asked him about the lack of keyboards in the set. I was REALLY missing the keyboard lines...they seemed so essential. Sometimes the slack was picked up by a guitar...but mostly, those wonderful shimmery keyboard lines were just MISSING. "WHERE ARE THE KEYBOARDS??" I yelled.
Dereck explained to me that "THEY'VE BEEN TOURING WITHOUT A KEYBOARDISTS FOR A WHILE." He then proceeded to shout the entire history of the ever-changing band line-up throughout the past ten years. I hand't know any of this. None of it.

The songs you were singing, they were so beautiful.
Some of them I knew by heart. But some of them, I didn't know AT ALL.
I found myself getting hooked into the new lyrics, leaning, leaning in to hear what you were saying.
God you looked and sounded beautiful.

Dereck passed me a joint that someone else had passed to him.

"WHAT ALBUM IS THIS SONG FROM?" I shouted.
"THIS IS FROM 4:13 DREAM" he shouted back.
"IS THAT ABOUT TO COME OUT?" I shout-asked.
"NO," he shouted "IT CAME OUT, LIKE, SIX MONTHS AGO."

And it was then that I realized, without a doubt. It hit me and it hurt.

I abandoned you.

I was a Bad Fan.

Along with so much of the other music I listened to, I wandered out of the Church of Fandom in my early twenties and by the time I was in my mid-twenties The Dresden Dolls were in full touring mode. I was spending most of my waking life on the phone or on the computer, trying to make sense of this weird fucking life that I'd so wanted and I was so grateful to have - but at the same time, it destroyed something I cherished, which was the ability to hang out and absorb music, to live IN it.

I wasn't a fan anymore. I couldn't be. I was too busy working.

The magical mystery of needle hitting vinyl and sound suddenly appearing and the awe I felt when confronted with exotic, artistic beings on a screen or stage was replaced by the van, the stinking dressing rooms, the cables not working, the glare of the inner workings of tape and pro-tools, of booking and settling, of wheeling and dealing and moving and shaking.

At the end of the night, after the fans cleared out of our own shows and we climbed in the van, I always asked for the radio off please.

Music stopped being a ritual of joy and feeling and connection and turned into noise, into one more distraction. Piles of CDs always darkened my doorstep and I felt beholden to every band who thrust a demo tape, CD and (later) myspace link my way with a look of such yearning that i knew, i knew knew knew that owed it to this person to give some time to their music, because they were giving time to mine. On top of that, there was other noise all around. Tour noise, press noise, life noise, lawyers-and-managers-and-agents-talking-on-the-phone noise.

When the noise stopped, I didn't WANT to fill it with music anymore. I wanted to fill it it with silence. Or talk radio.

I couldn't go to live shows and not just see people working. It was so rare I'd see anything I liked. I sort of gave up, decided I'd gotten jaded. I stopped listening to you after Wish. I bought the albums (I could afford to now, I was on the up and up, throwing money around in record stores and leaving with stacks of new music that would then collect dust on my kitchen counter next to piles of free CDs that people would thrust at me at music conferences, CDs which were becoming a commodity as ephemeral and valueless as junk mail), but I couldn't focus.
I could barely name one song you've written in the past seven years.

After watching you last night, I feel like I've done something terribly wrong.

You....

You helped saved me, you opened me up, helped me out of the darkness and gave me the tools to transmit myself, and I let you go.

Why did I do that?

I guess I had to...? To become....this?

To be a You for Other People? Maybe. I dunno.

I mostly feel like an asshole, a hypocrite, because I expect so much from my own fans.
I expect them to stay with me and love me forever and ever if they've loved me at all.
I expect them to follow through, to keep calling and checking in, to commit to the relationship.

But people, fans, friends, they do trail away, don't they? Have children, have jobs, have schedules, forget about the songs they loved, maybe feel a little jolt of nostalgic happiness when they hear them on the radio but would never think of going to a live show....

You can step in the same river twice. You can never go back. Right?

Well. I went back and it worked. You made be remember. A lot of things.

As I stood there in the crowd at Coachella, I found myself wanting to dance. Dance like I used to in goth clubs, surrounded by dry ice and uninhibited by beer.
I felt self-conscious at first. But I just did it. I sang my fucking brains out and I starting dancing. And the more I sang, the more the people around me starting singing.
They knew the words, most of them.
I felt like I'd found my place, finally...not among the goths, not even among The Cure fans...but among the collected randoms, the flotsam and jetsam of coachella who were standing witness to you making music in that moment.

I held the hands of those standing next to me. I found myself taking Dereck's hand. We screamed Cure lyrics gleefully in each other's faces.

For a minute, we were best friends.

I never, ever would have done that ten years ago. I would have been scared shitless to do that when I was 23.

I've changed. I guess I'm brave now.

Was it the gin and tonics? I think they probably helped. But mostly, I think I understand something now that I didn't back then.

These people, who didn't need to wear the badge of black or goth (anymore, at least), these people who were not afraid to wear pink and sing at the tops of their lungs along with Cure songs, loud unabashed songs about BEING ALONE and FEELING AFRAID ...

...it's just....all of us.

I wish I'd understood this when I was in high school. I advertised my misery through my clothes. Little did I know that so many others were just as miserable and afraid but didn't want to show it. I just assumed (as we all mostly did) that everyone was like me at some level, and if they weren't making a point of looking sad and pissed off, well...fuck them, they didn't understand. Many high school reunions have proved that theory WAY wrong.

I've heard rumors that you hate being called goth. Peter Murphy feels the same way.

Maybe we should start a club. The UnGoth.

Here are some photos from Coachella (mostly by Dereck) with my new pals.
I'm (ahem) in the black shirt.
On far right - in my garland - is Charlie Todd, who runs the amazing group improv everywhere in NYC...total coincidence, I met him in the crowd.
Hopefully we'll make some art.

and with Dereck, my momentay soul mate...


So that's my story, Robert Smith.

I plan to buy your new record and give a good, deep listen.

I'm sorry I left you, I want to thank you officially for changing my life....and I want to be a real fan again.

And if we never collide, just please know....I truly love what you do, what you are, and what you reminded me of the other night.
(Conversely, if you need a keyboard player....I'll come for free, as long as you eat with me a couple times and we can share at least one bottle of wine and 3-5 stories each.)

Last but not least: have a very, very happy birthday.
I hope when i am 50 i am rocking as fucking hard as you, smiling so wide and still trying to change the world through being real and true for people...goth and UnGoth.

I love you.

Please never stop.

I won't either.

With deep love,

Amanda (Fucking) Palmer

P.S. One last photo....i think this was during "Push"...Dereck capturing my ecstacy. That's you, or some blobby shape of you, in the background. Once again, I swear that even though it looks like i am rolling HARD on ecstasy, there were no heavy drugs involved:

Excerpts of this are from the last e-mail blast which went out around 48 hours ago...if you want to get stuff straight to your inbox (before anyone else), please be sure to sign up for the mailing list, too!

HOLA COMRADES!!!!

crazy everything nowadays, but what's new.
alack, twitter has been good to me - and given me a new slogan:
FUCK THE SYSTEM I HAVE THE INTERNET.
twittering has been so effective lately that i'm just blown away - with a direct line to over 100,000 people and counting i'm able to do flash-webcasts when i feel like it & everybody instantly has the info and tunes in.
i've also been doing random Q&A's, keeping tabs on who's coming to what shows....and generally keeping up on the happy & gory details of everybody else's lives (including all of my artists friends, who are hopping on board in droves). it's a full-on 24/7 party/therapy session on the internet.
i know i sound like a twitter evangelist, but jesus, you should try it. it's seriously changing the world.
http://twitter.com

meanwhile, i've just done the unspeakable and LEFT MY MAC AT HOME (horrors!!!!) for what will be almost 2 weeks. this past friday i flew over to china to meet up with fancy mr neil gaiman, who's been traipsing around there to research for a book. we're going to be in chengdu, then shanghai, then we've both got gigs in singapore (see show info below, one is at neil's literary/arts festival & already sold out and one is in a nightclub the night after). if you know anybody in singapore, TELL THEM TO COME!
then i'll be collapsing home just in time to rehearse with the guys in Nervous Cabaret for our upcoming states tour (again, dates below). most of the shows are selling strong and look like sell-outs, but we still need help promoting here and there. if you want to download a flyer and help plaster the good word, head here on the shadowbox and we'll hook you up with all the tools you need to post my bad-ass face in your local coffee shop/university/water cooler/prison (and thank you for your support).

the tour poster (being painted & hand-printed, once again, by the talented italians at malleus art rock labs) is coming along quite nicely, here's a sketch of it in progress...


and on the ever-shifty music biz front....

i recently wrote a blog called "why i am not afraid to take your money, by amanda fucking palmer", which got spread around the blogosphere like wildfire and generated over 1,000 comments in various places.
it's about how artists, in fact ALL FREE ONLINE CONTENT PROVIDERS like video artists, bloggers and photographers, cannot be ashamed anymore to ask their audiences for money directly, what with the industry in the toilet because of today's free-digital-content age. i suggest you read it if this sort of thing interests you, there's also a follow-up blog where i answer a TON of comments at amandapalmer.net

go read and feel free, as always, to comment with your thoughts. i read everything.

SHOWS
singapore dates
10.31 Singapore - FREE reading & signing with neil gaiman - INFO!
10.31 Singapore - FREE - INFO!
11.01 Singapore - TICKETS!..

i've been working on the material for the upcoming tour with these guys and we're planning some sick shit, including some covers that will hopefully make you dance and cry.
come come come and spread the word about these shows as much as you possibly can. for those who have been asking: yes, i'll be signing after almost every gig, unless the departing schedule is BRUTALLY early the next AM.

november dates - with nervous cabaret
11.11 Burlington, VT - TICKETS!
11.12 Portland, ME - TICKETS!
11.13 Northampton, MA - TICKETS!
11.14 Brooklyn, NY - with special guest franz nicolay - TICKETS!
11.18 Philadelphia, PA - TICKETS!
11.19 Falls Church, VA - TICKETS!
11.20 Carrboro, NC - TICKETS!
11.22 Knoxville, TN - TICKETS!

and the pops...THE POPS!
i have to say it...the tickets may be pricey but YOU HAVE TO COME TO THE BOSTON POPS SHOW FOR NEW YEARS. I'M GOING TO ATTEMPT TO PLAY A PIANO CONCERTO MY TCHAIKOVSKY.

i also just had a meeting with the folks over there and we're planning a bunch of fun fun stuff, including art installations, some original films by michael pope being screened, a TON of opening bands in different rooms (which you can watch while you eat the dinner that comes with the ticket), an instrumental set by the orchestra that I'M curating (go to forum to feed me ideas) and possibly (we're working on it) the US premier of the film I shot over in the UK with neil last month. in short: HOT TICKET. beg, borrow, steal and COME. tickets are going fast but you can get them HERE while they last.

WINNING FRIENDS & ALIENATING PEOPLE: #LOFNOTC-STYLEE
friday before last, i held another all-night flash-party on twitter from my kitchen.
yes, my friends, #LOFNOTC (the all-powerful Losers Of Friday Night On Their Computers) made it into the twitter trending charts again, beating out the yankees.
hooray for the losers!
my housemates came over, wine was consumed, and pretty soon we had my vinyl records out and had developed a cult: THE CULT OF CAPS LOCK.

you sort of needed to be there....but you can go look at all of the pictures on twitgoo. there's actually a whole blog about it...lots of you read it, but if you didn't, you can do so HERE...

ANYWAY....
lots of people (almost 200) also asked for t-shirts to be made of this historic caps lock revolution, so we made 'em.
it's based on a photoshopped photo I made/drew live in response to someone telling me that i SOUNDED LIKE I WAS SHOUTING INTO A MEGAPHONE WHEN I TWITTERED IN ALL CAPITAL LETTERS, which was waht set the whole thing off in the first place.

we're doing a limited run in sizes S, M, L, and XL...they're up NOW (HERE on JSR) and they're white and have the logo on the front and

"E.E. CUMMINGS BELIEVES IN CAPS LOCK

-@AMANDAPALMER

ALL HAIL #LOFNOTC" on the back

see fer yerself:

a lot of people were sad last time we did a #LOFNOTC shirt and didn't reprint after the initial orders. this is gonna be the same deal, grab em while they're hot, it's available NOW ONLY.

over & so out i'm in again

XXX

AFP

p.s. if you live NEAR BOSTON, go see PUNCH DRUNK's mega-fucked-up-surreal theater installation, "sleep no more". i've seen it twice since being in town (and did a flash gig there the other night via twitter for the first 200 people who grabbed tickets) and it's a SERIOUSLY AMAZING IMMERSIVE BEAUTIFUL EXPERIENCE - people loved it. go go go. here's a pic of me tearing it up with the house band in the manderley bar, the fictional lounge space they've set up in the middle of an old, unused brookline schoolhouse. four floors of pure 1929 horrorshow. nudity, endless rooms to explore at your own will, fearless performers...just go. well, don't just GO. read macbeth, get dressed up in old clothes, empty your brain out on the sidewalk and then GO. and then GO BACK and bring your friends.

(photo by ron nordin)

hola hola

in the last throes of packing & getting ready for a 10-day trip to china with neil, trying to wrap up everything to be mac-less over there.
i decided to go sleepless for tonight and crash on the upcoming 3-leg, 24-hour plane & airport extravaganza.
even on trips like this, i have to say...i love to fly.
i actually love feeling trapped in a plane.

people who fear flying have massive control issues. i have massive control issues in many areas (just ask anyone who's ever tried to help me with oh, ANYTHING), but i love the fact that i get to submit to the craziness of being in a metal sky-ship during flight.

nothing puts me at ease like the moment a plane detaches from the ground. most times (when i remember) i play the "are you ready to die" game.
i love this game. i ask myself if i'm ready to die. then i have to get to the point where i can honestly answer yes. i always can. or i lose. i can't lose. so i make it there somehow.
thus swaddled in my fleeting mortality and achieved liberation, i gleefully enjoy every honey-roasted peanut package as if it's my own personal Last Supper.

the first gig in singapore (info up at singaporewritersfestival.com) is springing for my flight, and before that we'll be in chengdu & shanghai and i'll basically be a tagging-along-with-neil-gaiman-girlfriend, wandering aimlessly amidst the chinese and trying not get completely lost or eaten by (rare) carnivorous pandabears.

will report back.

in the obnoxious "i fucking love twitter" department of the week, i twittered for on-the-way-to-china recommendations on a walk to the harvard bookstore yesterday and so many people raved about "wild swans" that i grabbed a copy. i love that the whole process of finding that book through trusted sources took under 5 minutes.

i also ran into blake (aka @electroblake aka yes THAT blake) in harvard square.

he was on a break from doing his angel statue:

he's made a new shirt, and he gave me one, and i'm wearing it above.
you can buy them (he screens them himself, when he's not standing still with angel wings on, collecting dollars from passers-by) at http://www.etsy.com/shop.php?user_id=5554564

all of you who have drooled over the awesome "hipsters ruin everything" shirt...it's up there, too.

for some reason, blake seems to wind up in all the best pictures ever taken anywhere, and the other day was no exception.
maybe it's because he hangs around wearing white-face and angel wings. could be.

i love this one. he's like the shadow of the angel of death....and the shoes MAKE it, honey.

...............................

SLEEP NO MORE

some of you may have already read about this...(and some is re-pasted from theshadowbox.net).

this past sunday, i played a gig that i announced ONLY on twitter (with a link to the forum).

a week before, i went into a huge 4-story schoolhouse that was filled with art, actors, story and confusion. to call it a "play" would do it a disservice. to call it an "art installation" isn't quite right either.

whatever it is, it's theater, but it is not an ordinary piece of theater by a LONG SHOT.
what i know: a london company called PunchDrunk was invited over to Boston by the American Repertory Theater to create a site-specific piece.
they took over this huge unused old school building (must be at least 40 rooms) in brookline and made a show called "Sleep No More".

imagine "the shining" meets "macbeth" meets "twin peaks".

you don't sit and watch actors. you wander around the space, alone (and wearing a mask) and you create your own experience.
actors come and go, events unfold. you can follow actors if you wish (they generally ignore you, but they will make contact occasionally),
or you can sit alone in a beautiful room filled with christmas trees until someone walks by you.
you can discover rooms nobody else is in and rifle through dusty papers and books.
there are rooms in asylums filled with bathtubs. there are fully landscaped gardens, there are rooms filled with dirt.
there is full nudity. there are lots of tuxedos and ballgowns. there is insanity. there is sexiness.
there is murder. there are moments where everyone winds up together and moments where you can watch the most intimate scenes play out between characters.

i am so, so happy to be seeing theater like this exist. this sort of immediate, visceral, risky shit is the reason i fell in love with theater and the reason that i want to puke when i see safe, boring, paint-by-numbers theater. this is, for those who followed the drama a few years ago, much closer to what i had hoped the experience of "the onion cellar" would have been like.

if you're in boston or new york or can GET to boston, GO. it runs til january 2 and possibly later.
link to the show: http://www.americanrepertorytheater.org/events/show/sleep-no-more

anyway, this past sunday, i hooked up a ticket deal for a few hundred people and played a gig alongside the house band at the very end of the night...
we had a blast. here's hoping they get their liquor license back, that part blew.

if you were THERE: the discussion keeps going re: this play at THESHADOWBOX.NET forum: http://www.theshadowbox.net/forum/index.php?topic=9934.0

some photos...


by @artdesi, who also did the fabulous fucking hair and make-up...

these photos by the wonderful ron nordin...

singing "all of me" with annie, the on-duty house singer (who SHREDS)...

.....and here's a clip of me singing "my funny valentine" to the lost-in-china neil gaiman, shot by lee barron.

neil indeed DID get on the internet eventually :)
he saw and loved it.
he especially liked how you could hear somebody say "and pandas" in the background.

next stop, VEGAS BABY.

love.

AFP

p.s. there will be a few blogs posted in my absence....one will be my long-lost open letter to robert smith, one will be a bunch of tour news, etc, and ALSO the new #LOFNOTC shirt will get pimped (we got enough orders to make them!!! yay).

p.s.s. also...this just in.....the a.r.t. needs stewards/volunteers to guide people through the dark during the production of sleep no more. click on "sign up" on the right of http://www.americanrepertorytheater.org/events/show/sleep-no-more

the minimum age for volunteering is 18.

hi.
it's now.

i leave for china and singapore on friday morning.

it's 12:30 am on a saturday night/sunday morning and i've spent my entire day, since 2:30 pm, writing emails.
this is often what i do when i'm home. i wake up, meditate, go to yoga, eat lunch, come home and sit at the machine ALL day, taking occasional phone call breaks.

i write a lot of fucking email. today i wrote 175 (i just checked the sent box).
what is it all? it's everything. i'm really behind. some of the emails were form july and august. as i see shit coming in, i try to mentally prioritize, but i generally just have one inbox.
a lot of my responses are random...i'll pick a chunk of emails in a row and just attack them.

part of the problem is that every time i get excited about something and throw it into the universe, i forget i'm going to have to brace myself for it's boomerang return in the form of Hours On Email.
having management, which i do, is not even a help in this area, and never really has been. management cannot correspond with the 56 various musicians you've met on the road and still email with.
this has been a struggle. i could now probably spend 7 hours a day online just to keep my inbox clean.
i monitor my twitter feed, i write things that need to be written, i discuss projects for fucking 2010.
i want to stay connected with EVERYBODY, but i can't. i dont' know how to let anyone or anything go.
this is happening to everybody, it must be.
now that facebook and google makes every ex and every old classmate available, couldn't we spend our whole lived reliving the past and going for drinks with people we knew when we were 12? fuck.

i do not play the piano.

fuck.

who am i kidding...? i hate playing the piano alone. this has always been my problem. it took me years to understand it.
i hate practicing. i hate playing with no witnesses. it's my never-ending mirror dilemma.
i might have to start webcasting practice sessions to kick my own ass, the ultimate in meta-narcissism.

honestly though, i am going to tackle tchaikovsky's 1st piano concerto for the boston symphony new years gig.
for real. i'll make up for all of it.

you cannot know how much this terrifies me. i am not a classical player. the people on that stage are some of the best classical players IN THE WORLD.
frightening and yet i know they'll give me rock forgiveness, that universal card i can play.
whatever it is that they have, i don't think i want anymore.
i don't want a job.
i don't want to be a musician.

last night i was going to do work and nicely derailed myself into another #LOFNOTC party.

for those of you who missed it, the best way to understand the full-on-party-on-the-internet is to take a look at the picture feed.

i saw "the hangover" on my plane back from the UK and the picture feed reminds me of the pictures that rolled during the credits.
piece it together, folks. for those who understands what it means, we trended higher than "follow friday" and the new "where the wild things are" movie
we felt like a powerful force of internet performance art absurdity.

http://twitgoo.com/u/amandapalmer

this ended up being the official night's #LOFNOTC logo, made by a girl called @HaleyHanabusa based on a picture i had taken a picture of myself with a hand-drawn megaphone in response the the fact that someone told me that every time i wrote in caps lock it LOOKED LIKE I WAS YELLING FROM A MEGAPHONE. things devolved from there....

(by the way, for those involved, the new #LOFNOTC shirts, with the megaphone logo, are possibly being made if enough people email hayley AT amandapalmer DOT net. just put the subject "#LOFNOTC shirt" and tell her you want one...if enough people email, we'll print some up in all sizes. the screen costs money to make so we need a few hundred people to make it worthwhile.)

these are some of my favorite #LOFNOTC party pictures.....

my housemates geeta (who just published a great 33 1/3 book on brian eno) and noah (who makes home-made beer) , and mali (the singer of the band jaggery) came over.
it was ridiculous before it even began....my vinyl collection came in WAY handy.

simon lebon of duran duran loving caps lock:

madonna (true blue-era, one of my favorites) loving caps lock:

by request on twitter, e.e. cummings loving caps lock. (if you can't appreciate this one, at least wiki. it will make you really happy, i promise):

all four beatles made an appearance....obviously....

so did yoko...(yes, we tweeted her @yokoono):

once enough wine was in us, we got intellectual and made karlheinz stockhausen love caps lock...

morrissey / the queen loving caps lock...

and our very favorite....

bruce springsteen's ass loving caps lock:

what can i say, it was an excellent night.
not pictured here, joan jett, brian eno, and some other people ALL loving caps lock. you'll have to go look at the feed....

anyway.

you get it.

the thing i love most about taking over a little corner of the internet is how totally ephemeral it is.
it never exists again.

it's like a new form of art; social anti-social party performance art.

at the same time, it struck me as completely fucked up that my housemates all came over due to the act they saw my manic twitter activity (they all follow me & i follow them).
it was as if they expected to come over and find some raging party going on. instead, i was sitting at my computer in my bra, with no music playing, typing away like a social automaton.
but one by one, they created the part for me. geeta took over my stereo and laid down the kraftwork vinyl, and noah poured the drinks.

but they were talking to each other, while i was talking to the internet. it begs the question: can you have an actual party on the internet while maintaining a party in real life?

i will accept this challenge.
i have fantasies about founding the world's first actual party on the internet venue. why not? i love the idea of someone going into a bathroom where there is the option of chatting with someone in dubai after you take a dump. how fucking brilliant would that be? not as some art installation, but as a par-for-the-course bar experience?

anyway. mind tired....signing off, bedtime and reading time....

in random dept:

-i'm playing a flash-gig at a crazy british david-lynchy theater installation in boston tomorrow night (announced on twitter, already sold out: go look at the shadowbox).
i'll blog it. pope is coming up from new york to film and beth is coming up from new york to photograph. i'm going to sing some jazz standards.

-i love the new tegan and sara record, "sainthood". sara sent it a while back while i was in scotland and it's been growing on me ever since. i take it jogging every morning. i might make them a fan video.

-i need to not smoke.

-boston is suffocating. i want to move to new york. my whole life here feels like an attic or a basement, but never a kitchen.

-meditating and yoga in the morning is so wonderful, and i wonder why i cannot have the bloody self-discipline to take care of myself on the road the way i do at home.

i am happy in my life. sometimes in patches of non-touring like this, i look around and say: this is what you are supposed to be enjoying.
i have time to talk, to listen, to feel, to wonder, to write if i want, to do crazy random things.
if i can't enjoy this, i'm spinning my wheels and it's all pointless.

i will leave you with a picture of me and my wine-glass, now empty.

i love you guys.

xxx

AFP

p.s.

i miss neil.

hola comrades!

i took the better part of this past week and sorted through & respond to - see below - over almost ONE THOUSAND (jesuschrist) collected responses to the past "why i am not afraid to take your money" blog, since it got posted and reposted all over the place (thanks cory @ boingboing, mike @ techdirt, popurls.com, absolutepunk.net, iconfactory.com, and all the other folks who spread it around & rewteeted it).

i have a lot to say. please feel free to cut, paste and share it as you so choose.

it's broken down into four parts:

1. Virtual Crowdsurfing (an explanation)
2. Selling Out (my personal definition)
3. Why This Works (for me but maybe not for everybody)
4. Money, Art & Random Balance (the economics of trust)
5. AFP responds to comments


1. VIRTUAL CROWDSURFING (an explanation & a continually rambling manifesto...)

first, tons of people asked if they could donate directly to me. yes, you can: HERE.

the topic obviously hit a nerve all around. goddam.

i got a phone call from NPR (american public radio) a few days ago and was invited to do a studio interview about this topic for their show "on the media" as a result of all the buzz.
the funniest thing about that: at the end of the interview, rick told me i was the only person who sounded optimistic and, well, "happy" about this whole music industry mess.

well...yes. i am happy. why? because i'm not chained...and i'm not even technically FREE! i'm still stuck on my record label!!!!
but it doesn't matter. i have a direct way OUT of the system that relies not on suits in offices, but on a working wireless connection, the goodwill of my fans, my work ethic, and the quality of my output.
so yes, of course i'm happy.
and as far as i can read hundreds of comments down, so are a lot of other people who are GLAD to have free-er content and less middleman involvement, though it means more personal responsibility.
we just need to agree to make it work.

my cellist friend zoe keating (@zoecello), who more or less runs her own business out of her house (and isn't signed), told me a few days ago on the phone that people have been ordering multiple CDs directly from her website and simply putting, in the comments section of paypal "PLEASE DON'T MAIL ME THESE CDS - i just wanted to send $40 because i want to support you!".
i've had multiple people try to write me checks/hand me cash at shows because they'd downloaded music for free and wanted to just give me money.

there's obviously something going on here... and it's obvious to me that the public is willing to support a new system.

i also firmly believe - as many of you seem to - that this new era of music and content (less huge blockbuster artists supported by the mass media, more living-wage artists supported by smaller fanbases) will actually drive the quality of content UP. artists will hopefully no longer be in this game for the wrong reasons (i.e. to be instantly/luckily famous and rich) but instead will take an honest look at the work it takes and the lifestyle it provides; in most cases, not a luxurious one, but a fulfilling one.

the naysayers are free to try their own systems.
do it! but as far as i can tell, what i'm doing is hurting nobody.

a few months ago i was traveling around impulsively after a long tour, taking off-time and visiting friends and family in various cities and discovering the then-newfound magical powers of twitter.
i used these magical powers to put together flash-mob-style donation-shows on beaches and in parks, to find last-minute practice pianos, to find cafe/yoga/wireless recommendations, to find crash spaces for me & my assistant, even to twitter for rides to and from the airport from random fans (twitchhiking!). why the hell not?. call me crazy. but i like these people and trust them enough to do that. i got a fantastic ride from the denver airport to boulder from a woman who told me all about her two kids and brought me some drawings they'd done. she kept my number and a few days later, she gave me a ride BACK to denver...and this time brought the minivan, her partner, AND their two kids, about whom, at that point, i knew everything. it was like getting an adopted family for a few hours. it was either THAT or the bus. simple? for me, yes.

i started to call this "virtual crowdsurfing" because the metaphor was just too perfect.

at a show where people are crowdsurfing, you can't just stand there on the edges, wondering endlessly if you should jump in or not...biting your nails, hemming, hawing, calculating whether the collected masses will really care about you and whether a few people in the moshpit might be assholes and not pull their weight.
if you wait too long, the show's over.
you must dive, pray and work on a faith-based system that folks will have your back.
you might wind up on the floor, shit happens. but people will help you up, brush you off, push you back in the pit.
and you, in return, need to hold your hands up in the air when somebody's flailing body comes in your direction...you cannot duck, you cannot run in fear that you might break a nail...or a finger.

i was doing a signing after one of the beach shows in LA and i realized i'd left my wallet and phone (visibly) unattended in my ukulele case, where people were asked to toss their money in, about 20 feet behind me.

over 300 people had put dollars, drawings, notes and little ponies in there.

my wallet and phone were untouched. i hadn't even thought about protecting them.

am i an idiot for leaving my shit out? absolutely.
is my faith in my fans profound beyond words? yes.

and so it is: i am grateful as fuck to be riding on the upstretched hands of my audience, blissful in the randomness, happy for the gorgeous mess, high on the trust, and plenty willing to lose a glove, shoe, or some other article of clothing that gets accidentally ripped off in the bacchanalia and falls by the wayside.

end part one.

xxx
afp


[above: the photographer lindsey bynres, who was sent my way at the coachella festival by her girlfriend tegan, took this killer photo at one of this past year's perfect moments.
i made it into a heavy-paper poster (neil's idea actually, credit where it's due) and you can buy it HERE.]


some more thoughts, for the in-depth blog-reader:


2. WHY THIS WORKS (an explanation)

there's something particularly awesome about the fact that we are in a new age of wild west internet where the protocols and etiquettes aren't set.

i want to state clearly:
i am not trying to find an answer for everybody.
i am ONLY trying to find an answer for me. i am an artist, i need to support myself. i'm not trying to save the world or make internet history.

my career, growth, trajectory and fanbase are unique.
what works for me may not be the best course of attack for lady gaga, MGMT or zoe keating.

please bear in mind the last ten years of my life (you may know all this, but if you aren't familiar with me, this is crash course in my life):

since the birth of the dresden dolls in 2000, i have pretty much been on tour and i have, with very few exceptions due to sickness or mad schedules, signed and hung out with my fans after almost every single show.
if i had to guess how people i have signed for, hugged or connected with.....it's probably in the hundreds of thousands of people. (literally).
some nights brian (the dolls' drummer) and i would sign for over a thousand people, for 3-4 hours.
we would take a lot of time to really meet people, talk to them, hear their stories, connect with them. in a lot of cases, stay in touch with them.
and now i know my fans. there was no way this could have happened overnight.

just like any real one-on-one relationship, you can't dive in and expect faith and trust.
you don't fuck someone one night, never call them back and still expect they'll come visit you in the hospital or bail you out of jail ten years later.
you have to keep an ongoing, honest, real connection with them.
you have to keep feeding the relationship, calling, checking in, caring.

please understand: i don't preach this from a high horse, i say this so you (especially who don't KNOW me) understand that the people i am reaching out to...these people KNOW ME.
a lot of them have MET me. a lot of them have FED me, HOUSED me, helped me carry heavy amps and gear up stairs, promoted my shows in their towns.
to this day, i rely on them for TONS of help. and this is a huge part of why i feel confident that i won't look like too much of an asshole when i reach out to my fanbase for money.
even those who haven't helped me directly follow the story, they see how my life functions and they offer what they can.
they're part of this ride, part of my struggle to live this weird life with it's many travels and ups and downs.
for the most part, they trust me. and i trust them. time and attention has made that possible.

i've also been blogging, hanging out on our forum (theshadowbox.net, which has been up since about 2001), vocally supporting our live bootleggers, posting and organizing gig photos, fan art and videos, doing weird free gigs, (recently) twittering up a storm, making countless random/weird-ass youtube videos (...i've paid filmmakers out of my pocket to make well-edited karaoke videos of me singing avril lavigne songs just because i think it's fucking hilarious - the industry guys could never understand why i was doing these things. they would ask: why would you spend your time on this when you could be spending it on your career? my answer: this IS my career. i am doing this because it's FUN and because i CAN motherfuckers). i used to do all these projects workaholically and gleefully alone. nowadays i have more help organizing my shenanigans, mostly in the form of (god bless all of them) my assistant beth, my internet team at BRAT, interns & friends and lovers pitching in, and my management. and more. and i love doing these things.

but i don't expect to get directly paid for these things.

in my mind, these things have nothing to do with direct profit and everything to do with helping fuel the connection between me, the fans, the songs and the world in general.
when that connections is strong, i've always figured (maybe naïvely?) that the money will show up as and when i need it.
and you know what? it does. and always has, more or less - in the form of ticket sales, merch sales and now online donating and webcast auctions.
i've pretty much always had enough to get by and when i've run out, i've borrowed from friends (and even fans, sometimes) until things weren't too tight.

that being said, i don't think my plan would necessarily work for an artist who hasn't built up a trusting and personal relationship with their fans.
it doesn't have to take years and years, but it doesn't happen overnight.

in response to a lot the comments out there...i hear a lot of artists (tons of writers and visual artists commenting out there as well) complaining that the world doesn't seem to want to recognize the practical exchange that MUST take place if artists are going to continue to survive and therefore create. i wonder if this has something to do with the fact that we LIVE in a world of free and constantly-accessible content. when i was a teenager, most of the art you liked HAD to come from records, books, VHS tapes or other hard-copy objects you bought in a store or hunted down in a library. nowadays all of that art is freely available with a very quick google. what value does that place not on the work itself, but on the time and sweat that went into creating that work.....the human face and energy behind the product that is freely shared?

..................................

3. SELLING OUT

to the artists out there: i've never heard a louder clamor of agreement in the comments from the other artists in this community.

just to remind you and to basically summarize what everyone else here seems to think (except for the few people out there saying "why don't you get a day job, bitch?")...

repeat after me:

ASKING FOR MONEY FOR YOUR ART IS NOT SELLING OUT.

selling out is when you go against your own heart, ideals and authenticity to make money.

selling out is an action, a 180 from a stated position.

i don't consider pop stars to be sell-outs.
the lady gagas, britneys and madonnas of the world are UNABASHED about why they got in this game: fame, money, über-success, chart-topping hits.

but if neil young were to suddenly hire the matrix to write him a thumpin' dance album and then appear on saturday night live snogging bob dylan, i'd have reservations about his integrity.

..................................

4. MONEY, ART, and RANDOM BALANCE (the economics of trust)

for your amusement i dug up an old photo of my busking self.
this was harvard square, probably in 1999...


(photo anonymous & pilfered from internet)

i stood frozen, and when money was tossed into that little tin vase i would unfreeze and give away a flower & a moment of eye contact.

(and to answer Nic, who commented:
I'm really curious about a technical aspect of this. I've been mulling this over for while since I read this blog, and I really wanted to know. Is there sun screen built into that paint you would wear? Cause I know that I would be burnt to a crisp after one day, yet alone 5 years.

nope, no sunscreen. i tried to stay in the shade, but i'm probably heading towards acute cancer of the face at some point. don't worry, i'll blog and ask for donations for the chemo...).

this is interesting:
i was always ASTOUNDED at how consistent my take was at the end of a day of street performing. after a few years, i could pretty much rely on what i would earn in a given hour, even though ALL OF THE DONATIONS from people on the street were random and impulsive.
there were good days and bad days, but there was a definite average.

talking with jason webley last week about busking brought something up that i hadn't known about him...when he was a street performer he wouldn't actually set up his accordion case to collect money. it made him feel too weird. so he would just play in the street for a half hour or so while a crowd gathered, then he would sell CDs.

i sent him this blog, and he responded:

i should probably clarify, it isn't that I "never" had the case out... I often did, but mainly I considered it a CD display. And the way I did my shows energetically, people almost never just came up and put money in... it would have broken the mood. They would wait until i stopped and then I'd sell the CDs. It's interesting to me how my mind worked about that stuff, I really didn't like the idea of people tipping me by throwing dollars into my case, however I found it perfectly fine and somehow very fulfilling when people bought my cds.

here's a (relatively old) photo of jason doing his Thing on the street:


so, that's how jason did it.

zoe keating, a few nights ago, told me something similar about busking weirdness...she used to busk on her cello to make ends meet, but she couldn't bring herself to lay her cello case down in front of her.
she said it just felt too crass. so she would lay her cello case somewhere to the side, right on the edge of her peripheral vision, and people could toss in money as they wished without it being right in her face.

and that's how zoe did it.

here's zoe, second from left, a recent "cello tweet-up" with peter gregson in san francisco's union square about a month ago:


(this impromptu concert was free to the public).

i find the differences between all our styles fascinating.
it's simply more proof that all artists HAVE to carve their own way, within their own comfort zones, when it comes to commerce, online or otherwise.

it seems to me that everybody keeps hoping we'll find A SINGLE way to fix the problem of money, music and the industry.

there are LOTS of systems now, LOTS of tools at any artist's disposal, and they are all there for the taking, à la carte. it's up to you and your own taste.

there used to be just one general way to be a band: work on your act, sign with a label, cut record, tour.
now there are as many ways to put an online price tag on your work as there are small musical genres that used to be overlooked and are now finding a fanbase because of the net.
THIS IS A GOOD THING. once again, it will not be a tool for the wanna be rich-and-famous, it will instead empower the artist and the fan and put an end to a painful old hierarchy.

i noticed lots of people commented apologizing "i'd love to give you money but i'm a poor student/artist/bastard"....

this is important:
i would never begrudge anyone who can't give me money. never.

when i was a street performer, there were tons of penniless punks and poets straggling about the pavement.
sometimes somebody generous would drop in a 20 dollar bill.
sometimes a punk-rock poet from the pit would pick a bouquet of leaves off a tree and leave them at my feet, or write me a poem and drop it in my tin vase.
they got a flower just like everybody else.
not only did it count, it made me even happier. they had taken the time out of their lives to connect with me.

man cannot live on money, leaves or poems alone.

those who gave cash covered my rent. those who gave me poems and leaves fed me in another way.
and indeed, it always worked out, day after day, year after year. my rent got paid, my soul got fed.

do not try to pay for your next concert ticket with stolen foliage.

but you get what i'm saying.
we take care of each other in this way.

............................................

TO THE COMMENTS.
many of these comments are edited down, i pulled out relevant bits.
fyi: there were an OVERWHELMING number of amens and positive comments.
because i found the negative ones to be thought-provoking, i selected more of those over the rah-rah ones.


Brandon:
As someone who's worked in marketing and professional arts/industry associations, I can tell you that in general, relying on people's good will to keep the money flowing is never a good idea, even if what you have to offer makes the world a better place, etc.

Amanda, you offer something of great value to your fans, but as you know the music industry, independent or mainstream is a fickle bitch, people's tastes can change and you will find yourself with fewer fans than before ('cept for me - I'd never leave you!). But is the solution to constantly change your image to compete with changing trends? Do you market yourself in the traditional industry manner where you essentially *tell* people to listen to your music, buy albums, attend shows, etc.? Frankly, I love the fact that you haven't, but I worry that someday, your earnest independent method of promoting yourself and your work might hurt you as well...

so ironic, the many people who commented saying "this won't work because MOST people won't support you...except for ME! I'LL support you! if only there were more people like me...!"
don't you see...? we're ALLL HERE. it's you, me and a bunch of other people here making it happen.
i never change my music or image to please people. i do what i want. those who are turned on will stay, those who aren't will trail off. there's enough of YOU to make it work. end of story.

.........................

Your Mother:
How come you got half the money for a date you didn't attend?
(AFP: this is re: the dates with holly gaiman that were sold on my webcast, see the last blog)

because i brokered the deal, dude.

.........................

Matthew Ebel:
AFP- I spent the past week ruminating on your dilemma as it's something I face with my own fans- how up-front and open can you be without ruining the appeal of the artwork? Two of my most marketing-savvy friends and I talked about this on our 7-hour drive to PodCamp Philly this weekend too. One of the conclusions we reached is that there's a threshold where talking about money becomes offensive... and it's impossible to really gauge that threshold until you've crossed it. Our best guess is that once your revenue begins to seriously overshadow that of your fans, it may seem more like bragging than being honest and open. My own conclusion is that it's a matter of selecting the right channel- if your goal is to act as a beacon for other musicians (like me), save the raw numbers and "business" end of the art for the musician-oriented channels. When the CD Baby DIY podcast interviews you, talk about raising $10,000 from a webcast, but when you're targeting the music fans directly (via your blog, Rolling Stone, etc.), be less specific and focus on the art or the process.

totally true. i think that once all this money-talk blows over, i may speak about it very little. but right now i'm enjoying making a point.
(by the way everybody, i tuned into matthew's live weekly webcast at http://matthewebel.com the other night and brought over a bunch of folks by twittering. he played well into the night for us as we chatted in his chatroom and drank beeeeer and, at the end, i logged on for a spontaneous piano webcast from my apartment as a thank you. all HIS fans who hadn't known me just switched ustream channels and we continued the party. i love the internet. this is the SHIT. you can read someone's blog-review about it HERE.)

.........................

Kater:
Art isn't about making money.

no. it's not.
and the day art starts making itself without the help of artists, we'll be all set.

......................................

MistrsEvilKitten:
I am very surprised that people would be complaining about your requests for money going to you. I was more than happy to help support you, and that is why I didn't just buy your DVD from your site for myself, but I bought 3 more for my friends. Also, I recently went into a music store and checked out the WKAP music book... It was beautiful and I wanted it BAD... but I didn't buy it. You know why? I wanted to buy it from your site so that the money would go to you. I love supporting you because I know you will NOT disappoint. What you put out is of the utmost quality and I am thrilled every time. I am not one to be swayed into liking something just because I already like the artist... I can honestly say your music, DVD, WKAP book, videos, music books, etc. are all extremely impressive and worth supporting in the best way possible! And there is no reason that YOU, a chill-inducingly amazing artist, should be struggling when the Hannah Montanas, Katy Perrys, and the like are living it up. They should rot!

no, be nice. they shouldn't rot. but will they maintain their lifestyles or their fanbases? check in with them both in 10 years and let me know.

.........................................

mike:
I find it sick that people are dying in Africa and India and dont even have the opportunity to get a job at mcdonalds or cutting grass but yet you who are fully able to get a job at mcdonalds or any landscapping job gets on here and asks for donating money because you are an artist and need to eat to keep making music. I am on a personal journey to stop any donations to you.
Its sick kids, poor people with mental health problems in 3rd world countries dont even have the opportunity to eat once a day or work yet our money should be sent to you..

please do not obligated to give me any money for my art.
give it to the starving children! yay.

.........................

Tennyson:
Anyone who hopes to own their future in the arts needs to own their money, know where it comes from, and decide for themselves where it's flowing to. Why do you guys think every filmmaker who's making an impact owns their own production company? Media is entrepreneurial. In fact, it's opening up to new talent. The tradeoff is that nobody owes anybody a damn thing - least of all a break. Film, music, and art in general has become about breaking out, instead of breaking in.

SO WELL SAID!

.........................

drwex:
I'm supremely sympathetic to your main point, and certainly in favor of direct support of artists as one possible model. I've blogged on these topics for years (see http://copyfight.corante.com). I would, however, like to request that you not lightly use the word "raping" to mean "ripping off." It's an unnecessary dilution of a serious term. The way that the Cartel abuses creative artists and steals from the people who make the whole industry possible deserve a more direct discussion, not overbroad labeling.

sorry. RIPPING OFF.

.........................

felis:
crass is the new black.

i love you

.........................

Ronald van Loon:
10k is a meaningless number. Is it pure profit? Presumably not. Also, what do you use the money for? Investment? Parties ? Drugs? I would put this in the 'it's not how much money you have but what you do with it' category, to paraphrase a well-known male memberism. I'd prefer openness in these matters anyway - so just keep up the good work...

madove:
Since I've started listening to music as a teenager and painfully trying to get together the money to buy a new CD/artwork, I have craved to give this precious money to the person who touched my heart (the musician, writer, sometimes the cover designer, too). And for how much I understand that the record business and manager system has its use and sense sometimes, I've always hated the idea that something that I could easily copy gratis from a friend or download from dark corners of the internet, but that I buy because I want to SUPPORT THE ARTIST will give the artist 50ct while 15$ will get lost on the way. I just LOVE to give you my money directly for all the fun, feelings, tears and joy you are giving me, and I am grateful that you find ways to come and ask it. This is the future.
And if you manage to get really rich that way: A lot of people are getting rich with very very dirty hands or by funny tricks on marketing and clever contracts. If I see one day my AFP on her own yacht with a cocktail in her hand, earned by giving your art and so much of yourself to the world, it will just feel right.

&

from the comments on the blog from tale-of-tales.com:

Patrick3:
One interesting side effect of the punk economy as opposed to the traditionally centralized model is that being an arrogant jerk about your decadent income and lifestyle carries a greater risk that your audience will be put off and less inclined to subsidize said lifestyle.

Michaël Samyn:
That’s probably not a bad thing in most cases. As much as the audience should take up its responsibility to support the artists whose work they enjoy, the artists should use that money responsibly. Of course, there may be border cases, where the decdadent life style is part of the art :)

...ah yes, like some of our rapper friends.



this is definitely one of the harder edges of this system and this topic.
plenty of people here have commented that they'd love to live to see the day where i float by them in my bling yacht made of fan-love.
that's a nice sentiment, thanks guys.

yet: i really do wonder if people will start feeling a sense of moral ownership about my actions when the gears of the machinery are more exposed.
we'll see. i'm not really committed to the idea that everybody HAS TO KNOW the amount of money i am earning and on what projects.
i originally threw out the dollar amounts (months ago, when i had my first webcast auction) as a statement to say: HERE IS PROOF THAT THIS WORKS.

rappers are so vocal about how much money they make it's not even funny.
i want to see what would happen if fitty put out a free record and a tip jar.

p.s. i actually met 50 cent on a plane once, long ago when i was a little dresden doll. i approached him & his entourage (i snuck up to first class from coach) and said, "excuse me, mr. cent".
he said "please, call me fitty". true story. i also gave him the first dolls CD and he said he liked the artwork. :)

.........................

Mike P:
i really get where you're coming from and i'm all for paying for art, for music, for performance. but to be completely honest, it seems really insensitive to not acknowledge in the current economy how many of your fans are in far worse debt, have much less $$$ and could never even come close to affording the travel and lifestyle you enjoy. and i know you work very hard for it, but recently it sometimes seems like you feel entitled to a nonstop flow of $$$ for your fans simply for being Amanda Fucking Palmer. for example, the last webcast i watched felt like it had little to nothing to do with art or connecting with the fans - it was all about collecting the $$$, selling stuff like those leftover photos that felt very much like an afterthought. so all i'm suggesting is that you try to keep in mind how many of us are also struggling to pay our own rent and realize that there are limitations to how much we can give financially on a regular basis.

a lot of people commented in similar sentiments.....and i'm really grateful for the very honest way people have been voicing this concern. i've never paid such close attention, and i'm glad to be able to get such frank feedback from everybody. note taken.

.........................

my friend kim boekbinder, from vermillion lies:

Hi! I'm in Porto, Portugal with Zoe - it is so fucking beautiful here. You should come here and play, maybe with us.
I read your blog about money the other day, I've been thinking about exactly that a lot since I am launching my album fundraiser right now.
I love that we are moving into a new art support model where people support the artist, not just the end result - the album. Finally art might be appreciated as an ongoing process instead of just another product.
Anyway...I was wondering if you might put a link to my fundraiser in your next money blog, if you think it's appropriate.
http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/KimBoekbinder/kim-boekbinder-solo-recording

Love,
Kim Boekbinder

you go girl. (kim is great, everybody...so is zoe boekbinder & @vermillionlies. look them up.)
i've seen lots of people using kickstarter. let us know how it goes.

.........................

Jason (via techdirt.com comments):
"artists need to make money to eat and to continue to make art."
True, but who says they need to make money from their own art? Plenty of artists have made amazing music while working day jobs. Very few are able to make even a modest living with their art.

i think this person totally missed the point and reading this hurts my soul.

.........................

gurdonark:
I'm one of many folks who shares music for free under Creative Commons licenses. I think this kind of sharing creates new community among listeners and among creators. Yet I agree with you that there is nothing wrong with an artist seeking the payment of money as part of distributing music and earning a living. If we are going to see the music business transform in the ways we all hope, musicians must function as small businesses. It's true that some artists will be more crass, and some artists will be more subtle. The consumer "market" will decide which style it prefers, and reward its preference with purchases. The street busker point you make is part of the solution--and the rest is that there is no reason a music-maker can't do business just like everyone else--and every reason why music-makers must do so.

exactly.
p.s. creative commons FTW: creativecommons.org


.........................

Betty Phillips:
Amanda, your work is inspiration to so many. Fuck those who don't get it. I LOVED being able to tell everyone that I spent my night with a bottle of wine, my son Jareth, AMANDA FUCKING PALMER and BETH. AND since it was free- I was able to purchase a DVD for my son and I to enjoy, donate to a worthy cause, and have a great night doing it. Keep on doing what you do. I have no problem with you taking my money...better you than a record co. that squeezes the artistic blood out of everyone, screaming...SELL OUT!!!

re-appropriating the term SELL OUT would be a true cultural coup, wouldn't it? we should try it.

........................

kovacs (via comments on theshadowbox.net):
Amanda, asking the fans for money its something that is true, and everyone will have to get used to it if they continue to sample an artists content for free. I think you have been extremely astute in predicting this.

In these auctions, specifically, you're profiting off of the fanatics, tapping into (what I percieve as) a personal vulnerability in your fan base, their adoration. Credit where credit is due, you deserve this adoration, I've never seen an artist give so much back. But, it borders exploitation, despite them doing it willingly. You say that Ticketmaster, Roadrunner, etc have been "shamelessly raping both fan and artist for years". Be careful, these auctions are bordering on comparable.

Do you want to pave the way in new ways to ask the fans for money, or profit from the fanatic?

simple answer:
both.

once again, this is an opt-in scenario, and the non-fanatic are never chastised.

.........................

drowningdolly:
The internet has made it such that just about anything is available for download, free of charge. For years I've been torn with the feeling that downloading is immoral. I take what I want, I enjoy what I take, and I give nothing back. Credit should be given where credit is due. Listening to your music, reading your words, gazing at your face, these are all things that I derive pleasure from and as such, should be justly rewarded. The guilt is easier to swallow when you feel that disconnect with the artist.... Middlemen such as the record company, the chain CD store, ticketmaster, etc enable that disconnect. You convince yourself that you're screwing THEM over and what's it matter when they're already filthy rich? I think when an artist takes to their fans the way that you have, you make it personal...

&

me&mycharms (via thesahdowbox.net):
Pink recently did a string of 50 billion shows in Australia, and the price of her merchandise was off the charts. I heard to get a hoodie it was about $170, and the cheapest tickets to see her were no less than $100. Nobody accused her of exploiting fans or taking advantage of fanatics. It was just expected.
The only difference I see is Pink wasn't standing behind that merch table, taking the cash personally from everybody.

bob lefsetz writes about this a lot - the time is coming where people are simply feeling TOO RIPPED OFF TOO OFTEN at shows like this and they simply go elsewhere for entertainment - thus the dying live music industry.
years of overpriced tickets, added fees, parking fees, overpriced drinks, overpriced merch...the whole thing has left a general bad taste in the mouth of the public.
as a general rule, the dolls (and i) have always tried to keep tickets as cheap as possible (except boston symphony hall...gulp, sorry about that one) and all shows all ages. i experience TONS of grief from promoters and agents about this ALL THE TIME. they KNOW they will make more money if the shows are 21+ (more liquor sales) and if the tickets are jacked up $5 here and $10 there. it's an ongoing battle i will have to fight all my life.

.................................................

ZohoGorganzola:
I wholeheartedly agree that the direct payment of artists probably will (and should) be the future, but you mention ticketmaster as one of the greedy middlemen. I'm not taking issue with that. They are, in fact, greedy middle men. But how do I avoid paying them? I want to see artists like you and others live, but all of the venues in my city (Philadelphia) are associated with one of the big ticket companies in some way or another. I already purchased tickets for your philly show, but in the future, whenever you come back to town, is there any way I can just send you money and get tickets for a show? Or are you bound by whatever agreement you have to make with the venues?

yes i am often bound, and this is a really tough topic.
i try as hard as i can to keep fees down and to work away from venues that have huge monopolies & fees (and there are artists out there who simply REFUSE to work with live nation venues and ticketmaster...i know conor oberst was doing that for a while) but it makes your choice if venues EXTREMELY limited. it's really frustrating and another uphill battle, but with audiences mobilized, there is real change possible. stay tuned on this one.

.........................


Josh:
...I would love it if every musician had a public P.O. Box or better an online tip jar, if their publicist had a book keeper to handle the checks, and then for all the music I like, all the youtube videos I like, I could send along some cash. Maybe just 5 bucks. Because Warner bros. gives them 22 cents, and puts them into debt and obnoxious contracts. So, my 5 bucks, that gets to the artist is 20 or so times what they used to make, and then I could tip a lot more artists and when I get a head, I can gleefully go back and tip them even further, see their shows. Because they'll still be around, and they won't have been ripped off.
But until there's a sea change and probably even still, artists will have to solicit.

this concept is coming. as to your last line: artists soliciting IS the sea change of which you speak. it's just going to have to be tastefully organized.

.........................

Mrs. Micah
...if people accuse you of prostituting Holly again, here are two words for them "box social." Have 'em watch Oklahoma. Shoot, my grandparents' first date was a box social. She was dating another guy, my grandfather wanted to date her, outbid the other guy, and voila.

SO TRUE!


........................

leighwoosey:
"morality is by nature objective"
You sure on that one?
"can i get a fucking amen?"
No, of course not. If you really believe in what you're doing you shouldn't need one.

re: mortality, i was actually wrong. what i meant to say was "by nature subjective".
i just fixed the typo. thank you.

i really do believe in what i'm doing.
and i do need an amen. are you kidding? i need all these amens.
a handful of amens would be enough to keep me going.
but a thousand like this make me want to stay up all night and write a free webcast opera.

.............................


georgepanayotou:
My name is George Panayotou. Amanda, I nearly wept when I read this. Partly from shame at what I believe is a drive that pales in comparison to what I've read here. I've not been spit at or ridiculed (much) or hated on straight to my face; mainly because I haven't put my face, both my actual and my figurative (as represented through my work) out there. I haven't risked it. I suppose people think that if you have your own website or have cut a few albums (and snagged Neil Gaiman, no less) that life has just sort of handed these things to you without paying a price in blood or without at least some effort on the part of the artist to MAKE things move in their life by an almost superhuman surplus of energy, and (dare I say it?) faith. But those 'closet artists' are just closet believers, afraid to proselytize their good word to all who would hear. Is there not a kingdom or a king that rewards the faithful who are spit on, hated and who stand statuesque against the tides of scorn, eyes open and staring past the glint of passing cars filled with jeering faces, locked on the summit of one's efforts? The only kingdom that has the power or authority to reward that I know of is the work itself.

"The only kingdom that has the power or authority to reward that I know of is the work itself."
this really, really made me stop and think, because it was so beautifully and powerfully put. i think for some, this is true.
and for others, like me, the work is a means to and end, but the work itself HAS to be enjoyable to make the end acheivable.

.................................

ChuckEye:
Money for art is great. Money for props & knicknacks is, well, kind of an insult. I think it's cool that AFP has people willing to throw money at her in exchange for worthless shit, but worthless shit isn't AFP's creative output, so it really shouldn't be what she's selling.

the props and knicknacks are symbols of connection. that's all. don't confuse it.

........................................

@jimgoldstein (via twitter):
Fucking Amen! I've passed this on to my Twitter followers who are photographers. Thanks for saying what needs to be said.

Jean:
I took heat recently during a month when I was struggling to make ends meet just for putting a Paypal donation button on my serialized novella's web site, and asking my blog readers to take a moment to peruse my Etsy and eBay listings. I was told to go get a job at Wal-Mart or McDonald's if things were so bad. The fact that there are people in the world who think creative people would contribute more to society by slinging fries for minimum wage than by actually creating things depresses the crap out of me. I totally appreciate the ground you're breaking, and when I get into some positive cash flow I'll support you in ways other than just telling people how brilliant you are.

&

blipblipblam:
This is all so valid. I date a sequential artist. The major comic publishing companies, and now newer ones like Tokyopop, are taking advantage of young, unestablished artists all the time with iffy contracts and low pay.

i think photographers, writers, deviantartists, and pretty much any kind of artist who provides art for free online should hop on this fuckin' train.

.............................................


Darkmage32:
I totaly agree AFP! We pay to go to the show, we pay for al this, but the money never goes to you, or any artist! I'd rather MUCH rather see it go to you so you can get things you need to continue the art! Don't feel shame for you are totally correct in the statement that you afre making, we need to deal with the change! Fu**k the critics and the nay-sayers, for they are the ones that don't want to see the artist grow, or survive for that matter, they are the same fat cats that are charging us the sur-charges and fees, and such. I salute you for actually making a change for the artist! And yeah, I was one of those people that tipped you as a statue, and still think to this day that that is truely awesome.

KaitmanReturns:
I think, like you said, the big problem is people don't realize how they're getting "raped" by the record company. Buying a god damn postcard that you wrote my name on and mailed to me went directly to YOU, the one that makes the amazing music and does other amazing shit which I love. I don't want to "support" you through fucking iTunes or whatever because that's not actually supporting you.

merethom:
a-fucking-men.
the naysayers just haven't realized this is how it's going to work from now on. i've been to about 10 concerts in the past 6 months, and every artist (with the exception of ones on independent labels) has said: don't buy our new album, we don't see a dime from album sales. instead, download our album and buy our concert tickets/merchandise/etc. because that's where we actually make money. and i lovingly oblige.

rhyskka:
I love it that you are honest.
By the way, I don't seem to understand the system in whole yet. Where do the money one paid for a wkap cd at the gig go? To you or to your label?


this is really important, so listen...
there are artists like zoe keating who REALLY DO MAKE MONEY when you buy their music from iTunes, because they own it and are selling it directly.
you are doing them no huge favors by downloading their stuff for free. unfortunately this all comes down to educating yourself about the artists you're trying to support.

if you buy any music right now on iTunes from the dresden dolls' debut, yes virginia, no virginia, or who killed amanda palmer, I will never see a profit from those sales (although i will get a minuscule profit from the songwriting, and brian in turn will get a percentage of that - but it's fractions of pennies).

however, if i were to be released from my label tomorrow and put my own songs up on iTunes independently, I'd see about 40%-50% of the money.
the best way to know? ask the artist, and hope they'll be honest, or do your own research. if they're truly independent (ie running their own label, chances are good you can buy their stuff on iTunes and know that money is really helping them). i'm in a position with my record label where i have no problem directing money away from their bank, because they have actively told me (and shown me) they don't want to support my career & my art. fair trade.
as for other artists, their relationships with their labels might not be so cut and dry: mouthing off and saying "just download all my shit and buy a shirt!" can make their labels (especially if their labels are putting actual energy and money into that artist) feel very sad, and rightly so, since the label relies only on those iTunes/record sales to pay their rent. every story is different.

as far as hard copy sales go: it's the same thing.
i will see no money from the records sold in stores.
this will change if i get released, and you'll be kept well in the loop.

as far as why i feel morally ok about this ("why did you sign this record contract?" you may ask, and you may also be thinking: "isn't it immoral to re-direct money away from a company who you're legally indebted to for the work they've put into your career, your recordings?")...you'll have to wait for that story for a while. sorry.

.......................................

in closing, i'd like to share with you this email that tora sent a few days ago.
tora is a member of the danger ensemble, the 5-member theatrical troupe that came with me on the who killed amanda palmer tour all last year.

i did not have money to pay them (i could only cover their airfares and travel, no salary), so every night we passed the hat in the audience at the end of the show.

people donated what they could.

it worked.


(here's she is, the blond on right, performing "blake says" with kat & mark of the danger ensemble, photo from jj174)

from tora:
This reminds me, I read your blog about paying artists. I wasn't really aware of the backstory, but the backstory in this situation is sort of irrelevant. What you said needed to be said and it doesn't really matter what sparked it. As an artist I feel like I deal in a completely different currency. If we were to really count every little income and expense and average it out over our entire careers, we would probably (for me CERTAINLY) have earned well under the poverty line in terms of a weekly or monthly or yearly 'income'. But thats because a monetary currency is not relevant to our cause. We don't clock on 'hours' with 'time cards' because time is not constant or relevant for us either! My job when I work in theatre is to manipulate time and space, to bend and fracture everything we know and present it in a stylized form so that we might learn lessons from the stories we are telling...and when I think about it that way, how can I possibly fit that job (and myself) into an 'approved' social structure? I cannot. In a way, the only way I can possibly be paid, is if people pay me what they think I am worth.

There are those who think I am useless.

There are those feel they owe me their life.

There are those who are too proud to give (but take nonetheless).

And there are those who are generous.

Yes we do need to eat, but it also needs to be acknowledged that we work on a different system, but a system that runs parallel to the mainstream and is just as supported by it as it supports it, they feed each other. I put my hand into my pocket for the buskers because I know that we are all the same...and at the end of the day, if I really asked myself what it means to me - my favorite story, my favorite album, my favorite painting, my favorite movie, my favorite song - I can't put a monetary value to it. It is truly priceless. And when we realize THAT, maybe we will start to be more generous towards artists.


amen, tora.


once again, please feel free, everybody, to continue to share your thoughts on this unwieldy subject.
i feel more grateful than ever to have such an articulate and thoughtful readership.
you guys all fucking rock.


XXX

AFP
http://twitter.com/amandapalmer
http://twitter.com/afpwire
http://twitter.com/postwartrade
(and yes, even http://twitter.com/dresdendolls though it’s still embryonic)



p.s. ....thank you ALL for the great reading and artist recommendations....in short:
- yes i know patrick wolf, we're friends. i think what he's doing is smart.
- i ordered "the gift" and it's already arrived. will read ASAP.
- i was a huge throbbing gristle fan as a teen. RAH!
- thank you for the links to tom green, elizabeth streb's gallery,
- yes i've been watching kristin hersh/cash music and jill sobule, they're both doing awesome things and i am glad they're out there.
- and yes, i know einstürzende neubauten has been making fan-funded records for a while, i used to worship blixa and actually stood in line forever to meet him and give him a dresden dolls CD. god knows if he ever listened to it but i like to think it perhaps found a second life somewhere in an efficient german trash compactor making splintery-plastic sounds surface-recorded with an expensive neumann microphone for his next record.

p.p.s.
re: webcasting.
i don't think it's wise to charge for webcasting at this point. maybe soon, but the technology isn't perfect and it draws more people into the party (i'm especially convinced of this watching webcasts go viral on twitter).

"life will break you.
nobody can protect you from that, and living alone won't either, for solitude will also break you with its yearnings.
you have to love.
you have to feel.
it is the reason you are here on earth.
you are here to risk your heart.
you are here to be swallowed up.
and when it happens that you are broken, or betrayed, or left, or hurt,
or death brushes near, let yourself sit by an apple tree
and listen to the apples falling all around you in heaps, wasting their sweetness.
tell yourself that you tasted as many as you could."

- louise erdrich, the painted drum, p. 247

hola comrades!

while i slog through several hundred comments from the last blog and prepare round two of a very interesting conversation (wait for it),

you should know (if you don't already, it's because you're NOT ON THE MAILING LIST GODAMMIT)

i'm playing NEW YEARS EVE with the world-class BOSTON POPS ORCHESTRA at SYMPHONY HALL IN BOSTON, conducted by Keith Lockhart.

here's me & keith last year, jamming out. it was quite the part-ay:

we had a blast together in june '08 that we've decided to do it again, with a whole new slew of songs.

i've also been given permission and encouragement to fill up every other little ballroom in the symphony complex with a different performer...
so it's going to be an extensively rocking party with many, many special guests (and more weird surprises to be announced later.)

to whet your appetite....

here's a clip of me last year doing a saucy saucy version of "don't tell mama" from "cabaret" with some hot back-up dancers choreographed by steven mitchell wright:

and here's a lovely photo of brian (who came as a surprise), the symphony, and myself playing the dresden dolls' song "sing"....

....which was bad ass.

the price of the ticket also includes DINNER of some sort, not sure what the hall is plotting, but it sounds yummy.

tickets are on sale NOW and will probably sell out REALLY quickly (i played TWO shows there in june '08 and both were sold out...this time we're only doing one, so grab them while you can, mofos).

click HERE to get 'em.

HOUSE OF BLUES PEOPLE!!
we haven't forgotten you! if you are in the group of 200 who had their House of Blues tickets refunded, make sure you've mailed your receipt to HOBboston@amandapalmer.net
we are holding that list of names at the pops and you guys are GUARANTEED seats at this show (even if the show sells out) in the best spot of your chosen price section as long as you grab the tickets before november 1st.

we're also working on some cool "VIP" ridiculousness for you but we can't talk about it yet. trust us though, it shall be something special.

we sent an e-mail from HOBboston@amandapalmer.net explaining all this so if you didn't get it please check your spam filters or forward your receipt ASAFP.

after nov 1st, if the show is sold out and there are people from this group who haven't claimed their tickets, we'll release them to the general public and that'll be the end of that.

let's ring this one in in style, motherfuckers!!!

XXXX

(jetlagged little) AFP

aie!

i had two conversations within the last 24 hours which made me feel like blogging about this.

one was with jason webley, who i've been living with for the past week in the Middle of Nowhere.

i was writing a press release and in it disclosed how much money i made from the recent london webcast (about 10k).
i gave a copy of the text to jason to proofread over a cup of tea (that's what rock stars do for each other nowadays instead of leaving lines of blow on the backs of bathroom toilets).
he suggested taking the money part out. he gently advised; he's heard people gossiping about me and my shameless revelations about my webcast/twitter income etc.

right around the same time i got an email from beth, regarding the future of my webcasting.
she suggested we do something totally free and not ask people for any money.
she's been picking up on heat from people that the ask-the-fans-for-money thing has gotten out of control.

listen.

artists need to make money to eat and to continue to make art.

artists used to rely on middlemen to collect their money on their behalf, thereby rendering themselves innocent of cash-handling in the public eye.

artists will now be coming straight to you (yes YOU, you who want their music, their films, their books) for their paychecks.
please welcome them. please help them. please do not make them feel badly about asking you directly for money.
dead serious: this is the way shit is going to work from now on and it will work best if we all embrace it and don't fight it.

unless you've been living under a rock, you've surely noticed that artists ALL over the place are reaching out directly to their fans for money.
how you do it is a different matter.
maybe i should be more tasteful.
maybe i should not stop my concerts and auction off art.
i do not claim to have figured out the perfect system, not by a long shot.

BUT ... i'd rather get the system right gradually and learn from the mistakes and break new ground (with the help of an incredibly responsive and positive fanbase) for other artists who i assume are going to cautiously follow in our footsteps. we are creating the protocol, people, right here and now.

i don't care if we fuck up. i care THAT we're doing it.

in fact, i ENJOY being the slightly crass, outspoken, crazy-(naked?)-chick-on-a-soapbox holding out a ukulele case of crumpled dollars asking for your money so that someone else a few steps behind me, perhaps some artist of shy and understated temperament, can feel better and maybe a little less nervous when they quietly step up and hold out their hat, fully clothed.

i am shameless, and fearless, when it comes to money and art.

i can't help it: i come from a street performance background.
i stood almost motionless on a box in harvard square, painted white, relinquishing my fate and income to the goodwill and honor of the passers-by.

i spent years gradually building up a tolerance to the inbuilt shame that society puts on laying your hat/tipjar on the ground and asking the public to support your art.

i was harassed, jeered at, mocked, ignored, insulted, spit at, hated.
i was also applauded, appreciated, protected, loved....all by strangers passing me in the street.
people threw shit at me.
people also came up to me and told me that i'd changed their lives, brightened their day, made them cry.

some people used to yell "GET A FUCKING JOB" from their cars when they drove by me.
i, of course, could not yell back. i was a fucking statue, statues do not yell.

i did this for 5 years, and i made a living that way.
dollar by dollar.
hour by hour.
it was hard fucking work.

and for the last 10 years, i have been working my ass off in a different way: tirelessly making music, traveling the world, connecting with people, trying to keep my balance, almost never taking a break and, frankly, not making a fortune doing it. i still struggle to pay my rent sometimes. i'm still more or less in debt from my last record. i'll lay it all out for you in another blog. it's just math.

if you think i'm going to pass up a chance to put my hat back down in front of the collected audience on my virtual sidewalk and ask them to give their hard-earned money directly to me instead of to roadrunner records, warner music group, ticketmaster, and everyone else out there who's been shamelessly raping both fan and artist for years, you're crazy.

it's also not a matter of whether an artist is starving or cruising on a yacht.
i would hate to see my fans turn on me once i actually have money in the bank with a "well, i would support you if you were starving, but now that you're eating, no way."
fuck that.
accept a new system.
feel ok about giving your money directly to paul mccartney. he may be rich, but he still rocks. show you care.
feel ok about giving it to fucking lady gaga if you've been guiltily downloading her dance tracks for free.
rejoice in the fact that you are directly responsible for several threads in her new spandex spacesuit.
it shouldn't matter.
it's about empowerment and it's about SIMPLICITY: fan loves art, artist needs money, fan gives artist money, artist says thank you.

the critics are welcome to criticize.
they do not have to attend the party.
and even if they attend the party with rolling eyes, they will not be charged.
they will be hugged, they will be accepted and entertained, and they will not be given the hairy eyeball if they leave the room without tipping.
chances are they'll tell a friend about the next party, and their friend will probably leave a dollar. and tell someone else.

taking my stand as a virtual street performer is the best thing that's happened to my career and i revel in it.
and i love bringing people along for the ride.

i believe in the future of cheap art, creative enterprise, and an honorable public who will put their money where there mouth is, or rather, their spare change where their heart is.

can i get a fucking amen?

LOVE

afp

(update: lots of people have been commenting asking if they can donate money directly to me now. hell yes you can. click HERE.)

http://twitter.com/amandapalmer
http://twitter.com/afpwire
http://twitter.com/postwartrade
(and yes, even http://twitter.com/dresdendolls though it's still embryonic)

amanda fucking palmer crossing the alps, by @madainn

p.s. happy that guys are into the idea of marathon webcast experimenting.
it's obviously an artform waiting to be more art-formed.

.............................................

Name commented:

Hi! An AFP webcast sounds great. FYI, there was a story recently on NPR about a geek performing weekly webcasts to reach fans & grow VIPs.

http://...com/mknbsb

.............................................

thank you for sending.....fantastic article about this fellow Matthew Ebel. crazy, he's from my neck of the woods. i'll research him further. it's great that he's found his audience online.

i was happy to see that my old boston friend, david wildman, was consulted as a pundit. ...i liked this quote:

“I don’t know, it freaks me out,” he says with a laugh. Wildman likens Ebel to a talented street performer on the information super highway. “That’s the scary thing about this is, you know, are we devaluing human contact? I don’t know. But he’s found his audience and that’s really all that any musician can hope for.”

yes...it's fucking scary to imagine a future of pod-people connecting virtually.

i never want the idea of live performance and connection to be swallowed by the internet. if anything, the idea of webcasting ups the ante for live performers...you CANNOT just gaze at your shoes and wank on your guitar and hide away onstage anymore. nobody will care. you need to actually feed your audience, give them THAT THING that they CANNOT get from the internet. the feeling of being real, vital, in a room with people, alive, connected. i think it's important to make sure a young generation being brought up on the net understands the fundamental difference between chatting online/watching a webcast and going out and having genuine face-to-face human relations with people. brain to brain is fine. sometimes it's all you have. sometimes you live in kansas, life blows. but it does terrify me to think that humanity will give up on the real, sweaty, complicated part in favor for the easy, digital, clean part. eek.

.............................................

Robbo commented:

Has Amanda really prostituted her boyfriends daughter? For her own profit?

Oh well. She has done worse things im sure :D

(AFP: this is, if you're late to the party, regarding the fact that i auctioned off two dates with neil's daughter, holly, who's in her mid-twenties. they went for $740 each.)

.............................................

i have done some terrible things in my life, for sure, but i don't think this is one of them.
holly loved the idea and we had a great time with it. we split the take 50/50, and holly, who's not rolling in cash and was about to take roadtrip after finishing her dissertation, was psyched.
is something like this of questionable morality?
well morality is by nature objective. it isn't to immoral to me, or to her, or to the people who joined in the auction.
holly also decided to throw some of her money back into the karma loop and donated half of it to a womens' organization she used to volunteer for*.
so in my mind, everybody won.

* from holly's twitter: I donated 1/2 my goat date money to the U Turn Project [if you're interested in donating, you can HERE] - which I also raised money for by producing The Vagina Mons.

hola hola

obviously, you're all on the mailing list and you know about the east coast tour in november. if you're not of the mailing list, sign up HERE, please please please.

if you don't know about the tour, click HERE. i'm touring through vermont, maine, massachusetts, new york, pennsylvania, virginia, north carolina, and tennessee from november 11th-22nd with nervous cabaret. the shows are going to be KILLER.

REMINDER (i forgot to put this in the email blast):
if you HAVE A SPARE TICKET, NEED TO BUY A TICKET TO A SOLD-OUT SHOW or WANT TO RIDE-SHARE....go to theshadowbox.net!!!!

ok.

strange times. i've been holed up in the Middle of Nowhere, floating and fighting the flu.

neil was here, but then he left, and jason webley came to stay.

zoe keating was supposed to be here, but she wound up back in the states.

so what was supposed to be an amanda/jason/zoe space-jam-music-odyssey has turned into an amanda/jason work party.

instead of doing what we thought Good Musicians should do, which is ignore the Internet and make jolly music day and night, we've been plugging away at clearing out our inboxes.

sometimes making salads and indian food and going for walks to the Edge of the Middle of Nowhere. it's cold out there.

we've also been spending time perfecting our backgammon skills (we recently played a game where each player simply had to take a 5 and a 2 for every roll, it got boring fast) and having long long long loooooooooooooong and frustrating phone conferences with the Evelyn Sisters (we're still trying to produce their debut record).

they're currently holed up at home in walla walla and refuse to actually commit to a release date for their record. they are fucking impossible to work with.

but it's also hard to argue with or yell at two conjoined twin sisters who have had such a tough life. i always end up feeling like an asshole when i try to convince them to get their shit together. i usually back off and end up profusely apologizing about everything i say because every time they get upset they just threaten to not release the record AT ALL, which would devastate us.

sometimes they just hang up on us and don't answer the phone for days.

it's really irritating.

jason is harder on them.

maybe it's a girl thing, but i just can't be angry at them.

the conference calls are also impossible to follow because the two of them share one cell phone that they keep snatching from one another and it's useless trying tell them apart. both of them have really strong (and conflicting) ideas about the release of the record but they're BOTH constantly changing their minds about EVERYTHING from the mixing to the mastering to the album artwork to the touring routing...oi vey. we're thinking about just getting them their own fucking manager because we can't deal with it. we wanted to help but it's gotten to the point where we're ready to give up. it's hard. they're SO talented but they're SO weird. imagine wesley willis plus daniel johnston meets buckethead plus the olson twins without the budget. we'll get there.

i'm, meanwhile, wondering what the fuck to do with my life. if you have any ideas, let me know.

i think i might do something bizarre with webcasting when i get home. i like the idea of having some kind of webcast marathon where i take requests for 12 hours straight. i don't have that many songs, but we could do some interesting antics for filler. i could have an opening act every hour or so. why not? why not, indeed. all in favor, say aie. figuring out a TIME will be hard...the states and europe and australia are always at odds with each other, but we'll make it work.

but quite seriosuly, if anyone has any suggestions, put them here in comments. i've not been keeping up with the world of OTHER people's webcasts.

i'm thinking of turning my apartment into a webcast lounge with a virtual tip wineglass you can donate to in real time.

all i know is that when i see a katy perry vlog i feel sad inside and when i watched 15 minutes of a tila tequila webcast i wanted to throttle her. there must be a brighter future. help me.

speaking of webcast.....

here are the webcast auction totals from london (high to low):
1. date with Holly Gaiman - $740 each - Scott and Sean
2. the original handwritten lyrics to "Please Drop Me" - $750 - Matt
3. "Leeds United" dancer costume - $400 - Jenny
4. A is for Amanda dress from "Coin-Operated Boy" video- $220 - Maria
5. "Oasis" Video Pregnancy Test - $200 - Barry
6. Valium Housewife dress from "What's the Use Of Wondrin'" - $120 - Lucie
7. "Guitar Hero" I photo - $100 - Heather
8. "Ampersand" II photo - $85 - Dennis
9. "Ampersand" I photo - $60 - Ryan
10. "Another Year" photo - $50 - Rob
11. "What's The Use" photo - $60 - Joanna

....we also sold a ton of the signed DVD and bunch of signed tour posters for a grand auction total of about $10,000.

and there we have it. i'm making a living. i'm still in debt, but the light at the end of the tunnel is glistening.

thank you to everyone who tuned in...it was fun as hell.

and.....holly said her first date was successful (more we cannot divulge).

speaking of clan gaiman...here's one of my favorite bits of the london union chapel show.....

neil had been playing me "derek and clive" (go listen to the original HERE.......i also recommend pretty much everything else....go down the youtube rabbithole)

and we decided to not cover it in a church a lovely as union chapel would be sacrilege. he's got a lovely voice, my fellow.

here's me playing oli's flaming bicycle piano outside the church....

i finally got a positive review in the NME, who's generally had it out for me and the dolls for years. that made me glad. check it out HERE.

here is beth auctioning off the painting by Daniel van Ness that was created over the course of the two nights....

it went for 450 pounds to Alex, who stepped in when the actual winning bidder admitted that he was just kidding and had no money. you can see more of Daniel's work HERE. thanks to yasha from the strychnin gallery for finding him and sending him our way.....

beth administering the "ask amanda" portion of the concert....

me & polly scattergood singing a stage/balcony duet of "puff the magic dragon"....) polly as rapunzel (look upper right).......

amanda squished betwixt clan gaiman (that be holly the hottie on the right, lucky mr. Scott and Sean).....

and then to blow off steam, i did the last-minute gig in camden at the world's end.

about 500 people crammed in and as usual...i had no plan. i ended up borrowig lots of people's clothes, drinking lots of cider and champagne, and taking a lot of song requests.

pictures should speak for themselves....

holly trying to fit me into some chick's dress....

and some dude's t-shirt....

this hat worked well (thanks robyn):


mr. man reads from the who killed amanda palmer book.....

http://www.flickr.com/photos/catster/3920521346/in/photostream/

....and it was a wonderful night.

3 sold out shows in london.

fuck me!

it's getting awesome.

i'll be going home soon.

shall report on the state of the union.

love, love and love.

x

a

p.s. for those of you in boston...i'm sorry again about the show being canceled. i will try to do something weird and twittery while i'm home. watch for it.

if you didn't get the memo, make sure you email HOBboston@amandapalmer.net with your ticket receipt so we can give you first crack at the boston new years show & a special party.