Awww yeah. I've basked in the glory of Musicfest NW. I saw a bunch of bands that I've wanted to see for a while, ran into a few music/writing buddies. Old college classmates. I also met a lot of great bands and got a lot of CDs. Willamette Week did a great job on this event.
In addition to doing this website and writing for Jam Magazine, a Portland (Oregon) music magazine, I help out a few bands with publicity. Among other things, it is my job to make sure that demo CDs for the bands I represent get into the hands of newspaper editors and/or writers. I hand deliver CDs. I make follow up calls to the intended recipients to make sure that they've received the disc and to let them know that they can call me if they have any questions.
So tonight, I checked out a band with a brand new CD. One of the band members told me to see him after the show and he'd give me a CD to review. This is smart business. Even though Jam isn't an enormously circulated magazine, it hits a target audience that independent bands tend to sell CDs to. If that one disc that cost your band $4 goes to a newspaper and gets a favorable review that causes only four people to buy your disc, that's $20 profit. That's like 300% return on your investment. That's 2100% in dog years (there's a lot of math in this paragraph, feel free to email me and correct any mistakes).
So after the band in question finished playing, I went to their merchandise booth to wait for the band to pass through, get the disc, and then go home and write a review. Staffing the merchandise booth were two girls. They said "howdy," I said "Hi."
"This is [band's] new disc. It's only $10."
"Oh," I replied. "I write for Jam Magazine, [band's guitarist] said he was going to give me a CD after the show."
"It's only $10. You should buy it!" one of them responded.
"Hi, I'm an eskimo, do you have any ice to sell me?" I get a lot of CDs. I got twelve CDs outside of a show one night because the crowd heard I wrote for Jam. Again, it's not who you write for that matters - it's that it's a publication that will give you any amount of exposure. I could have written for the f*cking Watchtower and they would have forked over the discs.
I ignored the girls's sales pitches, waiting for my band contact to show up so I could get the disc, congratulate him on a great show, and get home.
Any small talk I made with these girls was turned right back to my forking over the $10 for a disc. I'm trying to be somewhat friendly, making small talk. I was the only one at their booth at the time. It's not the money for me that is the issue and that's why it's so awkward for me to be in that situation. I pick up a disc and start looking over the packaging. I look up and these two girls were staring at me in the same manner that I look at a fresh baked pizza (without the drool). Not saying a word, just staring. My girlfriend just bought a car and that experience (I'm not making this up) was less stressful than the time I spent waiting for this band to come over to their booth.
"You're really in to me buying this disc?" I asked, almost in disbelief. They responded: "yes...it will make us look good...that's why they have us doing this...it's only $10..." Like as a writer, I'm a cheap bastard for not buying a band's CD? My band contact and I have a mutual friend, I didn't want to look like a dick, so I handed over the money and got my disc. Good for f*cking them. They made a sale.
So the fact that I write for Jam isn't good enough? I know that's not really the reason and these girls were likely (I hope) getting a commission for the sales they made. I just couldn't help thinking that if I was with, say, the Oregonian, or Willamette Week, if these girls would have done the hard sell? However, as a publicity person, if someone representing one of "my" bands pulled that shit on a writer... I'd... I'd... I don't know what I'd do. Oh yeah, I'd get PISSED!
I love the band, I love the disc, I'm not reviewing it. After all, it's mine, I bought it, and I don't have to share it with anyone. Maybe they'll get some mention in an important paper like the big "O."
Like my self esteem needs to get any fucking lower.
-go*ch (oops, I put the asterisk in the wrong place).
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