[...] when you examine the history of technology, incumbents usually decline because the world changes and they lose relevance, or because they lose visionary founders and the organization decays. Some examples:

- Dell thrived when PCs dominated the computer market and Dell was the low cost provider of commodity hardware products. The shift to mobile and tablet computing meant that hardware quality (not price) was once again the primary basis of competition. As a result, Dell’s laser-like focus on cost reduction became a liability.

- The New York Times was, for many decades, one of the few premium channels through which brand and classified advertisers could reach mass consumers. Thus car companies and real estate brokers subsidized foreign reporting and investigative business journalism. The internet provided a vast alternative channel, and the Times became far less relevant. At the same time, the internet provided many new sources for breaking news, editorials etc, hurting the Times on the subscriber side.

The most direct music business translation of this phenomenon is the fact that Epic isn’t going to go out of business because Atlantic is doing so well and stealing their customers. Competition between labels is played out not so much in the music fan arena, but more so in the control of distribution and promotion gatekeepers. And as those things lose relevance, companies that rely on them will falter.*

Traditionally, the major functions of labels have been:

1. Handing out big loans to fund expensive recording sessions.
2. Providing a team of people with valuable gatekeeper relationships
3. Providing great product distribution and associated store placements/features
4. Being taste-making gatekeepers that help the audience find the best possible music.

What happens when the physical form of our media becomes fully disassociated from its function? What happens when there is no longer any physical form at all – it feels like we are basically at that point. Does anyone even remember CDs?

As we move rapidly towards streaming becoming the dominant form of music consumption, CD’s and even MP3′s are being pushed out of the market. This will finally allow artists and their teams to be liberated from having to look at the physical component of a music release as just a carrying vehicle for music or liner notes. (For goodness sake, we just released an album for which a handmade finger puppet is the only physical component.)

Andy continues:

It’s wistful to remember cassettes as the form that allowed us to imagine and experience. For me it was record liner notes, the inscrutable clues left behind that exposed a world you couldn’t be part of. But that was the key – these were worlds (and objects) that were apart from us, we dreamed of being part of them, but couldn’t. They were hard to make.

Instead, right now, we can be part of these experiences – and not just as simple viewers. We can be creators, sharers, promoters, discoverers. I think that’s why disassociating the physical form from the function matters. It allows for creation and experience that is wide open, accessible, and easy, as opposed to closed and hard and not understandable.

I fully support Andy’s point here, and would even like to amplify it. In the same way that disassociating the form from the function liberates artists and labels from the vehicle dogma, it also empowers listeners to have a more complex and interesting choice in their consumption patterns. Everything becomes fluid and, if we do it well, seamless and open. Track listings turn into “make your own adventure” style experiences, with the option to go with the artist’s vision, your own cherry picked version, or a playlist integration to make it your own daily soundtrack. Listening itself becomes promotion, as fans can choose to broadcast their behavior through their facebook tickers and other platforms. Song discovery moves into the world of a million taste-makers, where your music nerd friend is more influential (again, like in the cassette days) than the Rolling Stone reviewer. Every fan has the opportunity to engage with the music by making lyric videos, cover videos, etc.

All of these changes greatly amplify what start-up folks might call “user engagement”, which is one of the most important metrics around to indicate the value of a product’s interaction with it’s customers. The higher the engagement, the more opportunities to monetize the relationship. So where music business veterans fear these changes and the immediate loss of income, those that can see the big picture can see this temporary drop is only making way for a long-term improvement if you’re willing to stick it out and put in the work.

In many ways, we are living in what Nick Crocker calls “musical heaven” in his great post. By disassociating form increasingly from function we open up a whole myriad of opportunities within the music world. Opportunities to innovate, monetize, create, liberate, re-distribute, enjoy, and open up. And the physical component to music can once again flourish and become an artistic opportunity for the artist, and a very special bonding opportunity for hardcore fans.

The separation of form and function represents one of the biggest shifts in music. We are moving from the carefully controlled “Apple App Store”-style closed experience, towards an environment and dynamic that is yet to be determined and very well might be much more open and interesting, and therefor also terrifying for the current stake-holders. However, for innovative artists, and the teams around them willing to be bold, it’s an exciting dream.

Related Reading:

• To Release Or Not To Release On CD (Or There’s Another Way) (read)
• Form and Function by Andy Weissman (read)
• Living In Musical Heaven by Nick Crocker (read)

Our project manager extraordinaire Erin Bockman goes over our Family Records methods and process in her own words:

The top level project management method we use at Family Records is the OKR Method, which stands for Objectives and Key Results. Simply put, objectives are big-picture things that we want to accomplish and the key results are the measurable ways that we quantify our progress toward said objectives. It is important to set objectives so we know and understand exactly what we want to accomplish. It’s important to identify key results so we know if we are accomplishing our objectives. Instead of just saying “yea, we sent out that tweet” and that’s the end of it – we want to be able to say “our promotional tweet was sent out and it got retweeted xx times, and combined with other promotional activities X Y and Z we hit our target of 4,000 downloads for our Extended Family SxSW Mixtape.”

On the next level below the OKR Method we use the following tools: Anchor Events, Two Week Sprints (TWS), and Most Important Things (MIT’s – per week). The combination of these three helps clarify which projects are established, and which smaller or short-term tasks/goals are associated to help the team achieve the overall objective.

An Anchor Event is a high priority item. Examples would include album releases, music video release, a tour, etc. When an anchor event is established and put on our calendar, it becomes the responsibility of the team to carry it through and each team member should create an action plan for their area of expertise. It’s best if team members make a to-do list for their action plan, then set forth in carrying it out.

Two Week Sprints, or TWS, are intensive projects that take up a two week period and that will produce a lasting and positive change at Family Records. Two Week Sprints bring us closer to our overarching goal of positively affecting as many people as possible through music. An example of a TWS is launching our upcoming Music Inspires Me project. Like for an anchor event, an action plan is set in place and a “to-do” list is sorted out in order to carry it out. Unlike an anchor event, TWS are assigned to specific team members and it is their responsibility to accomplish it. Of course, other team members are available for help and support, but it is that person’s responsibility to make it happen.

Most Important Things, or MIT’s, are created every two weeks for specific artists. MIT’s are a short list of “smaller” goals in which we want to accomplish by the end of the week. Typically this is a list of 4-5 bullet-pointed tasks/goals and they can be assigned to one person or they can be a group effort. Examples could include re-skinning an artist site, or creating a new bio.

To keep everything organized and in our face we have set up a whiteboard in the middle of our work area. It includes our Wall of Achievement (a big, pretty list of achievements, up on our office wall, for all to see), our Project Flow Chart (in which we visually track the stages of all active projects), and our Two Week Sprints list. We’re action oriented and shy away from too many meetings, but the placement of our whiteboard gives us the opportunity to have a quick chat with everyone at any time. See photo below.

If you believe in planning, if you like things to run smoothly, go to school and become a doctor or a lawyer. The odds of strange things happening is low. Instead, you’ll plod along and get your boring just reward.

If you want to go into entertainment, throw the plans out the window. You never know what will break you through.

Everybody says they’re waiting for their one big break. Usually, it’s multiple breaks. But they’re all unpredictable. You say to yourself…if only I can get that opening slot. Then you play to a half-filled hall of people who don’t care. Then you say…if I can only get on TV and you play Leno or Letterman and after the buzz of performing wears off…nothing.

Then you’re performing at a charity gig you don’t want to do, playing to fifteen people on a side stage, and it turns out one of them is a powerful agent, and you get signed and are on your way.

This addresses a key challenge when dealing with artist expectations, or even management’s expectations at time. Bob is spot on. It’s so much less scary to pretend that the Letterman appearance is gonna make it all easy, than it is to realize that without proper foundations and a continued momentum none of the “big things” matter much. I describe the music business as trench warfare, or a video game without an end boss. Be in it for the long haul, and recognize your small success, because they all add up.

Related Reading:

• Another Note On Sticktoitiveness  (Or It Takes A While Pt. 2) (read)
• Creative Advice From Ira Glass  (Or It Takes A While) (read)
• Why We Do What We Do (Or Why Music) (read)
• Stay In Your Basement (Or How To Deal With Success) (read)
• The Reward Is In The Work (Or What You Can Learn From George Clooney) (read)
• Lessons Learned (The Science Of Motivation) (read)
• The Difference Between A Means And An End (Or Don’t Take Shortcuts) (read)
• The Science Of Motivation (read)

Accept applause, sure, please do. But when you expect applause, when you do your work in order (and because of) applause, you have sold yourself short. That’s because your work is depending on something out of your control. You have given away part of your art. If your work is filled with the hope and longing for applause, it’s no longer your work–the dependence on approval has corrupted it, turned it into a process where you are striving for ever more approval.

Focus on the work. Focus on the songwriting, the performance and making both tremendously amazing. You can’t control the luck factor, and you can’t control people’s reaction. It’s so much easier to get angry at the audience or those who are helping you succeed, than to look honestly at your own output and giving that your all. Resist that urge. Resist entitlement.  Find the value in the work, keep improving, and accept the applause when it comes.

Related Reading:

• A Revelation (Or An Artist’s Motivation Pt. 2) (read)
• The Reward Is In The Work (Or What You Can Learn From George Clooney) (read)
• It’s Not Always The Major Label’s Fault (Or Artist’s Motivation) (read)
• The Difference Between A Means And An End (Or Don’t Take Shortcuts) ( (read)
• You Are Your Own Kingmaker (Or No One Will Save You) (read)
• On Why Awards Don’t Really Matter (Or Don’t Do It For The Props) (read)

I had a revelation tonight that I have chosen to share.

I played a last minute show at Union Hall in Park Slope, because my friend who was headlining had to cancel.

My initial reaction when I opened the email early this afternoon was to say no, that I’m so sorry but I can’t (without disclosing the part about how being in bed watching movies and eating snacks was much more important to me on this night– my one free night between getting back from Maine and leaving for North Carolina).

I knew it was right to agree to the show not only as a favor to my friend, but that I should probably not be lazy and try to make some money to put towards all the gas for my 10 hour drive in the morning.

Needless to say, the turn-out at the venue was quite sparse..I would say maybe 25 people (including musicians) in and out throughout the night.

There were a few chatty, drunk people in the back near the bar whose conversations I could hear pretty distinctly while I was performing, but I tried to drown them out and focus on what I was singing.

Regardless of those details, I felt really good about the show, better than I sometimes end up feeling.

Tonight I felt I had played a really strong set, really believed in what I was doing and gave all I had of myself for the handful of people there with me, which in the end made me feel light and warm.

I was given an envelope at the end of the night with what felt like a promising lump of cash inside. I immediately folded it and put it in my back pocket and finished packing up my gear…I figured it would buy me a tank of gas at least.

I forgot about it until my walk home. I took it out to count, hopeful that it would be helpful this weekend on my costly trip.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.

Seven one dollar bills.

I chuckled aloud, and thought to myself how long it had been, if ever, that I had come out with such little compensation for a show that wasn’t billed as free.

I felt almost insulted in that moment that I had even been given the envelope with such a laughable amount of money inside. I snootily shook my head and walked into the nearest deli–dinner had been a good six hours before and I was very hungry.

I grabbed a box of honey bunches of oats (with almonds) and a quart of milk and still quite annoyed, trudged up to the register to pay.

“Seven dollars.” said the man behind the counter.

I handed over the seven ones in my hand and with a half smile said, “that’s exactly what I have.”

He gave me a very sweet smile back and wished me a good night.

As I turned away and walked out the door I suddenly felt completely elated.

With my guitar case crooked on my back, a tote bag full of cables and pedals over my right shoulder, and my milk and cereal in my left hand, I realized I had the biggest smile on my face. A smile I couldn’t get rid of. A smile I tried to get rid of, maybe out of sheer refusal to accept this rarity of happiness that in that instant had seemed to wash over me like an unforgiving tidal wave. It was a huge, stupid smile that  I had no choice but to just fully give myself over to…afterall, it was a feeling I hadn’t felt to quite this extent in a very long time, and I somewhat begrudgingly allowed it to take over, giving it the go-ahead to direct the rest of my walk home.

In the moment that I accepted the happiness, my disdain at unfolding the seemingly measly seven dollars turned entirely into contentment.

Contentment in the fact that I had traveled a few miles to sing songs that I truly believe in, songs that I feel explain my fears, my loves, my longings, my hopes, my dreams. Songs that I believe explain me and what I am in this world, and contentment that the small sum of money would very simply-and necessarily-fill me up for a good night’s sleep.

The fact that I have the opportunity to express myself in the particular way that I do, which fills my heart with love and strength (and hopefully others too), and the simple fact that the modest amount I was handed to do so tonight paid-to the cent-for what would fill my belly, is an amazing thing I often neglect to appreciate.

Suddenly on my walk home the seven dollars meant so much more than its worth in currency, more than any number. It became a symbol meaning that I am doing what I love and I am surviving.

I realized tonight for the first time, to the fullest extent, how much this is The Point.

I did something I loved, and then I was able to attain something that benefited me (the cereal representing a small step in the staircase to ultimate human fulfillment, of course, duh!), and as a result of doing what I love.

It didn’t have to take a one-off show for a four-digit guarantee to make me see tonight how fortunate I really am, and how disrespectful I can unintentionally and blindly be towards what I have.

I am guilty of sometimes being paid a sum to play one show and taking the money without batting a lash, as though I am owed it. It is so easy to begin to feel entitled, or ensured..like I will just always be handed checks to pay my bills without sometimes breaking so much as a mild sweat–which just isn’t a guarantee or anything I should irresponsibly rely on.

Someone once said that creativity is like a cable that runs above our heads, that we can reach up and pull down, hold it electric in our hands, raise it up in our individual way, and with it in our grasp, light the sky around us, for ourselves and for others (well, they said something like that, but I said it like that just now).

Anyway, sometimes we have our eyes closed–we may be stubborn or preoccupied, maybe we’ve lost perspective or have decided to wallow in our tiny miseries, expanding them beyond their realm of worth and shutting ourselves down–and when we become clouded, this flow of ideas and epiphanies, naturally must move onto the next eager person who has their eyes open to them. It is vast part of what keeps the good parts of our world going–people doing nice things for one another, making and sharing things.

I’m not even just talking about making a painting or writing music. I’m talking also about things like calling your family members or swiping a stranger through the subway with your metrocard, or truly caring about how a friend is doing when you ask them. Know what I mean?

If we only just open ourselves up enough to reach it-that…thing– we really can, and the opportunity won’t pass us by.

In my case tonight, the opportunity was in being made aware that what I wanted in that moment was only made accessible to me by trading in what I had only just ungratefully turned my nose up at–the seven dollars that had now become instantly relevant.

The point is to be grateful with a healthy perspective, which is what allows us to have open hearts and minds.

And when we do open up, we should embrace it. Respect it. Honor it.

And with the opportunity, Make something. Share something. Realize something. Add something in. Light something or someone up.

All the while remembering that nothing is owed to us, and nothing is permanent.

All things in life are fleeting.

Sadly, even revelations.

And so I write this out now around 4 am as a (pretty dramatic– woops) reminder to myself and to you whom I love who may read this to always strive to be present and grateful and open, and stay humble and true. 

Related Reading:

• The Reward Is In The Work (Or What You Can Learn From George Clooney) (read)
• It’s Not Always The Major Label’s Fault (Or Artist’s Motivation) (read)
• The Difference Between A Means And An End (Or Don’t Take Shortcuts) ( (read)

Related Reading:

• Creative Advice From Ira Glass (Or It Takes A While) (read)

There are some that still prefer CD’s, whether it be to listen to the music in their car, or simply because they like the physical object as a memento. For those folks we still release CD’s for most albums at Family Records, but we’re getting increasingly creative in our physical release strategies to pull in those more like myself that have no use for a CD. When walking my dog this morning we came across this box of CD’s left for dead. It’s been on the street for 3 days and no one has taking anything from it. This is telling.

Just because some don’t want a CD, doesn’t mean they don’t want support their favorite bands by buying something physical. Most know that artists get paid very little by streaming services like Rdio and Spotify, so we have to get creative in our offerings in the physical realm. For Pearl and the Beard‘s release show for their extended single “Prodigal Daughter” we decided to marry two forms of art and release these four new songs “on” the gorgeous limited edition silk-screened poster you see below. Band member Jocelyn explained it best from stage last week. Rather than releasing this set of songs on a plastic circle that you end up throwing away, it made more sense to make the vehicle for the music a separate piece of art that can long outlive the purpose of the aforementioned plastic circle. And for those who have no interest in the print, we of course offer the music as a simple download. There’s no point in complaining about the death of the CD. First of all because there’s still plenty of folks who like them, and second of all because it opens up the opportunity to be much more creative with our releases.

“Businesses that historically would have raised venture capital, but were deciding to forgo funding and blaze their own trail independent of the pressure and expectations that come with outside investment. [...]

I think we’re entering a golden age for Indie businesses. Some will take the shape of long term durable companies, others will take the shape of projects that spin up and wind down to meet bursts of demand or to scratch a passing itch. [...]

With democratized digital distribution and the rise of crowdfunding sources of capital, many companies will be in a position to stay independent and play by their own rules. And I think that’s a very important and powerful development worthy of it’s own word.” (Full articles here and here)

A clear parallel can be made to the changes in the way artists are able to sustain themselves. There are more and more incredible indie labels out there to support and amplify artists in a sustainable and organic way. Our friends at Kickstarter have enabled film makers, craftsmen and many others to raise funds to continue creating, and market to an eagerly awaiting market of supporters.

The perspective for these indie artists is different from those artists still caught up in the MTV era. The latter wants nothing more badly than to be on The Voice as a special guest, or in US Weekly with their famous boyfriend, or be grabbed up by the mythical king-making hand of a major label that makes everything easy for them and gives them a bag of money. Some of those artists will succeed for a certain period and for that more power to them. But most artists that pursue this will fall between the cracks, because those cracks are wider than the boards they’re between.

It’s a lot harder to build your own floor, and it takes a lot longer than just hiring a big company to make it for you. The hard work is a lot less sexy than the sun glasses and the fancy parties you thought you might attend. But if you build your own floor, with the help of a dedicated small team/label that’s on the same page as you are, you can make sure the boards close tightly and you’ll never fall lower than the last level you built. Below is a beautiful short video on 9 independent businesses that are sprouting up and working hard in the city of Detroit.

• It’s Not Always The Major Label’s Fault (Or Artist’s Motivation) (read)

“Everybody I know who does interesting creative work, they went through a phase of years where they had really good taste and they could tell that what they were making wasn’t as good as they wanted it to be. They knew it felt short. Everybody goes through that.” – Ira Glass

Coincidence would have it that I tweeted the below earlier today, which was one of my take-away lessons from a mentoring session and a constant in our approach at Family Records. Sticktoitiveness is so key.

Video discovered Sarah.