Musicians all want pretty much the same thing: to make a living at
their art –
to not have to support themselves doing horrible, low-paying work like
selling
blood or substitute teaching. They want radio play, a solid fan base,
good
reviews, and regular gigs at clubs that pay. Without these things,
music is a
hope and a dream for the optimist, a glorified and expensive hobby for
the
pessimist. How does a musician get these things? First, and foremost…
make a
demo. It’s this simple: Live performance is ephemeral, but tape is
forever (or
at least the musician’s lifetime). Before anybody’s going to record
your songs,
book you for a gig, or put up cash for you to make an album, they want
something concrete to assure them of the quality of your work. For just
these
reasons, Austin musicians record hundreds – possibly thousands – of
demos each
year, varying from album-quality recordings made at 24-track studios to
glitch-ridden live cuts recorded in one take. These demos are invested
with
hope: that this is the tape that will get me a slot at Kerrville, land
me a
showcase at South by Southwest, get me a Friday night gig on Sixth
Street,
catch some agent’s attention, and, ultimately, get me a deal with a
label.
Mostly, none of these things happen. But first things first.
The Great Demo Spawning Ground
Unsurprisingly, the first stop for most singers, songwriters, and
bands is the
open mike circuit. The Cactus Cafe, Chicago House, the Austin Outhouse,
Ruta
Maya Coffee House, and a number of other venues feature regular open
mikes,
spots where performers can get used to being onstage, meet other
like-minded
musicians, and generally see and be seen. This open mike circuit is the
great
demo spawning ground, especially for home demos recorded on four-track
machines. Four-track home studios probably account for most of the demo
tapes
musicians make each year. Home studio technology is surprisingly
affordable:
You can get a used four-track machine for around $200, and set up an
entire
home studio – mikes, cables, a regular stereo cassette deck for
mixdown, a few
guitar effects, and a compressor – for under $1,000. A home studio of
this
sort, not uncommon even for amateur musicians, is in many ways superior
to the
Sun Records studio where Sam Phillips recorded Elvis Presley, B.B.
King, and
Jerry Lee Lewis. The mind boggles.
The more serious home studio engineers not only record their own
material,
they also develop their recording chops by making demos for other
musicians,
often “discovered” on the open mike circuit. “Oh yeah, I’ve met a bunch
of
people at open mikes and then recorded their stuff,” says Joseph
“Pinetree”
Macry. Macry has a four-track garage studio, where he produces demos
for
aspiring singer-songwriters on a tight budget. “The way I figure it, if
any of
these people get famous, I’ve got the basement tapes,” he says,
laughing. “I’m
only sort of kidding. You’d be surprised how many people are really
good, who
nobody’s heard of yet. Two favorites of mine are Patty Finney, who’s a
folky
singer-songwriter, and Mark Alan, who’s a good blues picker. I also
just
recorded the Stark Ravens, and they’re a good band.” Macry, who
sometimes adds
a bass track and drum program to the performer’s guitar and vocal
tracks, says
four-track demos are plenty sophisticated for most people’s needs. “If
you’re
trying to get work at the clubs, or just get a good recording of your
songs for
any reason, you can do that in a garage studio. People have forgotten
it, but
the Beatles recorded theSgt. Pepper album on just four tracks!”
A
sample of what can be accomplished on basic equipment, Macry will soon
be
releasing his own self-produced tapeMeat & Teeth &
Bones.
The advantages of recording projects on home studios are numerous.
For one,
there’s not the time pressure. If the clock is running (and 24-track
studios
routinely charge anywhere from $40 to $60 an hour, depending on how
much time
you book, etc.) bands might settle for a take they can live with rather
than
getting it right. At home, there’s not that pressure, and the recording
environment is more relaxed. Another advantage of home recording is
that the
musicians are learning by doing. At the end of the process, they not
only have
a finished product, they’ve also gained experience setting levels and
mixing
tracks. An understanding of the recording process is, obviously,
something any
serious musician needs to have. With that knowledge, comes higher
quality home
recordings. Local singer-songwriter Ned Henry won first place in the
rock
category of the Austin Songwriter’s Competition a couple of years ago
with a
demo he made at his home studio. Says Henry: “You can do a lot on a
home
studio. It’s also a good idea to have made some demos under low-budget
conditions, to get a feel for how it works, before you go into a more
expensive
studio.” Like Macry, Henry has recorded open-mike friends and
acquaintances on
his home studio, including Mike Jasper, the host of one of Chicago
House’s
several open mikes. Jasper’s story is instructive, and goes a long way
toward
showing the necessity of having demos.
“Last year, during South by Southwest, this New York agent Jamie
Propp of
As-Is Artist Resources saw me play,” recounts Jasper. “He liked what I
did, and
said if I had a demo, he’d give it a listen and we could talk further.
I had
nothing to give him, but I told him that maybe I’d make one soon. Well,
I
finally did record a cassette single, “Kid off the Farm” with Ned
Henry, so
when this guy called me back six months later, I could say, yeah, I’ve
got a
demo. He wanted to know how many songs, and when I told him one, I
could tell
he wasn’t too impressed. It didn’t give him anything to work with, or
much idea
of my range. So this year, he’s down for the conference again, and he
just
brought his own DAT machine. We cut a 20-song demo in a weekend, and he
was
pleased enough with it that he’s going to represent me.” The thought of
almost
losing a shot at getting a manager due to the lack of a good demo tape
is
enough to send many musicians scurrying to the studios and maxing out
the
credit cards. As Jasper puts it: “I got lucky. I could have really
blown it.”
The Other End of the Spectrum
For some musicians, especially those aspiring to record deals on a
large indie
label, or even a major, garage studio technology doesn’t give as big or
as
polished a sound as they’d like. When that point comes, there are two
ways to
move to the high-tech end of the recording spectrum. One is to upgrade
the home
studio, moving to digital equipment. Of course, at the high end, the
sky’s the
limit, but Musicmakers’ Kelly Cauble ran through a list of toys that
included a
computer with the appropriate capacity and memory, the best two or
three
mastering software items, digital sound cards, reference amps (so you
can hear
exactly what’s being recorded), higher quality mikes, yadda, yadda,
yadda, and
came up with $4,000-$5,000 as the range for an excellent digital home
studio.
On the one hand, this is a bargain when you figure that major labels
routinely
spend 20 or 30 times that to make one album. On the other hand, it’s
more money
than most people have to spend. For people that want to make a
top-quality demo
and aren’t going to shell out that kind of cash, Austin has a number of
very
good studios. Apart from a clearer, cleaner sound, a big advantage of
using a
professional studio is that you’re typically provided with an engineer,
someone
with a very good ear, who’ll notice little things, like a guitar that’s
ever-so-slightly out of tune, or a harmony that comes in a little flat.
Ned
Henry has just been recording some demos at the Hit Shack. “I’m glad I
did all
the home recording,” he says, “but I wanted a more polished sound than
I could
get in my garage, and the studio is where I can get that.”
Austin’s multi-track studios, complete with digital editing,
top-of-the-line
consoles, and prime acoustics, are at the opposite end of the spectrum
from
garage studios. The Hit Shack, Bee Creek Studio, Music Lane, and other
24-track
studios are more often used by bands who are getting regular work, and
are
ready to shop for a record deal or to put out a self-released CD. Wayne
Gathright, who runs Music Lane Studios, has recorded a number of
Austin’s
finest musicians at Music Lane. “Tish Hinojosa cut the tunes for her
first
album down here, and then got signed to a major label. Sincola’s been
in here
to record an album, and I could name quite a few other local artists.
We do
everything from songwriters wanting to pitch tunes to publishers on up
to
finished masters for CDs. Recently, Bob Mould was in here producing a
band
called Starfish and that was a lot of fun.” The bigger, better local
studios
like Music Lane cost more money than a four-track garage set-up, of
course, but
if it makes the difference between getting a label deal or not, it’s
obviously
worth it to the artists involved.
Ultimately, the choice between a home studio and, say, a 24-track,
will depend
on the band’s goals. Local musician Kevin Gant recently made the
ultimate
sacrifice, when he hocked his guitar to buy studio time to record his
latest
song “The Ballad of O.J. Simpson.” “I wanted to get a good-sounding
demo,” says
Gant, “and I wanted to record down at Wildwood Studio. I had a song I
believed
in strongly and everyone who’d heard it had responded really
positively, so I
just bit the bullet. I had no money, so I hocked my guitar, which is my
baby,
borrowed somebody else’s guitar, and cut the demo.” Since recording the
song,
Gant has gotten the demo to a potential agent as well as some possible
investors. In both cases, he’s gotten encouraging responses. “What else
can you
do?” he asks. “You’ve got to have a tape to hand to people, or they
won’t know
what you can do and they can’t help you.”
Of course, it is helpful to have a tape, but Bill Carter, one of
Austin’s
more successful songwriters (he’s co-written songs with and had his
songs
covered by Stevie Ray Vaughan and the Fabulous Thunderbirds, among
others),
thinks being in bands, playing clubs, and writing with others is the
best way
to get your material heard. Without making contacts, he argues, demos
are
mostly ignored. “My first cuts with the Fabulous Thunderbirds happened
because
I knew those guys. Similarly, Ruth (Ellsworth, Carter’s wife) and I
wrote with
Terry McBride – you know, of McBride & the Ride – because he’d been
my bass
player. Perform. `Get to know people’ is the best advice I’ve got,
because
that’s how most of it happens. Mailing tapes cold, whether to
producers,
labels, or artists, is a tough sell. When you’re known, at least a
little,
people will listen to your tape. The most receptive audience is
publishers, but
then again, publishing deals often cut into your money more than you’d
like.”
Carter’s advice for writers making demos is to use full arrangements,
to
produce the best sounding tape possible. “Lots of people believe in the
bare
bones theory,” he observes, “and think you should keep things simple,
so that
the producer, or whoever it is you’re making your pitch to, can fill in
the
blanks, and can have some flexibility in how they hear the song. But to
my way
of thinking, that amounts to trusting the imagination of people in the
music
business, and that’s just a mistake. Go ahead, laugh all you want. I’m
not
joking.” Carter’s main points are both well-taken: A carefully arranged
demo
will have an edge over a rough one, and a band or writer that’s
well-known will
have an edge over a newcomer.
Not Done Yet
Regardless of whether tapes have been recorded at the best studios
in town or
on a four-track machine at home, regardless of whether the tape has a
nine-piece band or just one singer-songwriter strumming an acoustic
guitar,
post-production is an important part of the demo process, especially
for
artists hoping to get airplay. One of the busiest digital mastering
facilities
in town is Terra Nova, run by Jerry and Diane Tubb. Mastering studios
have an
array of software that allows engineers to do “microsurgery” on the
tape
explains Diane Tubb. “We can take out trash and incidental noise, get
rid of
the crackles and pops, generally clean it up,” she says. “The other
thing we
can do is get it to sound more like a major label release by setting
levels and
compressing the sound to get a denser feel. We make sure your fades
sound good,
your between-song time is consistent and not too long, and so forth.
When we’re
done, it’s going to sound much more radio-friendly and professional.
Also, we
can press it onto a CD for you, too, which makes a much better
impression than
cassette – especially for the radio stations. If you don’t have a CD,
most of
them aren’t going to be willing to play it.” Cotton Mather was in Terra
Nova
the day I talked with Tubb, mastering a four-song demo of material for
their
next album.
Having written and recorded the material, cleaned it up, and mastered
it, the
band is now ready to have duplications of the tape made. Sound
Recorders and
Lubbock or Leave It both provide duplication services, and both get
lots of
work from in and around Austin. “They keep me busy!” says Barbara
Roseman at
Lubbock or Leave It. Roseman points out that most bands now have
multi-purpose
demos. “Well,” she said, “they’re going to sell the tape at one of the
local
stores that takes things on consignment, Waterloo or Sound Exchange,
say, or
they’re going to send it to the radio stations that play local artists,
or
they’re going to send copies to the clubs where they’d like to be
playing.” For
tapes given to anybody other than consumers, Roseman recommends putting
the
whole program on each side, both because people deluged with tapes
aren’t going
to fast forward or rewind to find a particular song, and so that the
first song
(traditionally the best song on an album) can make it’s favorable
impression
twice.
Hitting the Airwaves
So now you’ve made your demo tape, you no longer live in the fleeting
world of
live performance, and you’re not stuck between gigs just telling everybody how great you are. You’ve got a product! What can you
do with
it? One of the best things that can happen for a band is to get airplay
on a
local radio station. Several stations play local acts to one degree or
another,
but most will not heavily program music that is only available on
cassette.
Andy Langer, a Chronicle writer as well as a music consultant
and on-air
personality for Z-Rock, plays a lot of local music, and has this to
say: “For
radio, the bottom line is sound quality. Get it mastered. Put it on a
CD so
it’s formatted friendly for radio. Even if you’ve got a terrific song
and it’s
a great band, it doesn’t matter. If the tape sounds bad, we can’t use
it – even
if Gibby Haynes himself brings it down here.” Langer’s been favorably
impressed
recently with packages he’s received from Seven Stones and Velvethead,
as well
as Pariah. “It’s great when you get advance tracks,” says Langer.
“We’ve been
playing demos from Pariah which sound really good, and are not anywhere
near
being released yet, as far as I know. For lesser known bands, though,
it’s best
to send it to the stations when it’s also available at local stores.
That way,
if we plug your work, it can translate into a sale or two.”
Jody Denberg, program director at KGSR, hosts a feature called The
Daily
Demo. “When we started back in December of 1990, we knew we’d be
playing a
lot of local music,” says Denberg. “Plenty of local artists are signed
to
labels of varying sizes, and we play their stuff as part of our regular
programming. But for the people who had good songs, or a good band, who
just
didn’t have anything recorded with the sound quality to go side-by-side
with a
major label artist, we wanted a special place to play that.” Denberg
receives
anywhere from 10-20 tapes in a week to be considered for The Daily
Demo.
“I’d never heard of this band called Correo Aereo,” he says, “and
they’re very
talented. They play acoustic guitar with a Central American sound. I
also liked
what I got from the Sleestacks, Meredith Miller, and several others.
Walter
Tragert is a favorite, and I enjoyed having cuts from Storyville well
before
their disc had been made available.”
Another outlet for bands and songwriters to play their demos is on
the “Ego
Complex,” Friday mornings, 9-11am, with Ponty Lox on KOOP. Lox has
people play
live on the air, chats with them about their work, and plays tracks
from their
recorded material. “Aunt Beanie’s 1st Prize Beets were in here,” Lox
says, “and
they were excellent. Quatro Paw, Kevin Gant, Ned Henry, Seela, and Cool
Beans
have also been on the show, among others.” Lox is one of those
open-mike
musicians described earlier, and has met a bunch of his guests from the
open
mikes. “I prefer it when they’ve got demos,” he says, “because if they
just
play live, the whole time they’re on it all sounds too much the same.
That
spare sound of just a singer and guitar works best when it’s in
contrast to
something more arranged and produced. Most of the guests do have tapes
or CDs,
usually self-released, usually available at their gigs, or even in the
local
stores.”
The longest-running of the local features, however, is KLBJ-FM’s
Local
Licks, which has been running for 13 years now. Program Director
Jeff
Carroll speaks with well-deserved pride about the artists who’ve
received some
of their earliest airplay on Local Licks. “Probably one of the
first
places anybody ever heard Timbuk 3 on the radio was when we played
their
demos,” points out Carroll. “So many great bands have been featured:
Charlie
Sexton’s new band, Ian Moore, Ugly Americans, tons more.” Carroll, like
the
other hosts, says sending something on CD definitely improves the
chance that
it will rise to the top of the pile, and be played on the air. “Mostly
we
receive cassettes,” he notes, “because that’s what’s easier and cheaper
for
bands to make.” Technology having advanced to the point it has,
however, bands
should know that it’s possible to get a mastering studio to make one or
two CD
copies of whatever you’ve got on DAT. If it makes the difference
between
getting airplay or not, it’s probably worth scraping together the money
to do
it. As Z-Rock’s Langer argues: “If that airplay gets you a few extra
people
paying $4-5 at the door for your shows, you’ll make the money back, as
well as
develop your fan base. It’s the smart way to do it.” In any case, there
are a
variety of options for local musicians to get airplay on Austin radio,
and the
potential exposure is one of the best reasons to make good clean demos
of your
work.
Aw C’mon, Book Us!
Demo production is the second busiest aspect of the local music
economy,
whether it’s hiring Gene Elders or Champ Hood to play fiddle on your
cowboy
songs, or getting a pal to do it for a six-pack and a burger. The most
lively
component of Austin’s music business is, of course, live music. The two
intersect when bands send their demos to the people who book the clubs,
hoping
to get a chance to play, to build a following. Ed Bradfield, who books
the
Austin Outhouse (a good starting point and springboard for a number of
local
bands), points out that the pristine sound quality sought by the radio
shows
doesn’t much apply to demos bands send in to get live work. “If it’s
got a
little hiss on there, or isn’t mixed all that great, that’s alright,”
he says.
“I’m listening for the songs and the band’s ability to get a groove.
That’s not
about who’s got the cleanest tape.” Bradfield estimated that he gets
15-20
tapes a month, and “maybe three impress me.” Potter’s Field is one of
the bands
that has earned a regular gig at the Outhouse.
It’s a common complaint among musicians: Bands suspect that the tapes
they
have worked hard to produce, arrange, master, etc., are tossed in the
back of a
drawer and never heard. According to Gigi Vick, who books bands for the
Saxon
Pub, that happens pretty often, but it’s the bands’ own fault. “Look,”
she
says, “you’ve got to pick an appropriate venue. I frequently look at
the band’s
promo kit, and know, absolutely know, that they’re not right for
this
club. They’re gonna be too rock, too loud, too abrasive. I don’t listen
to half
the tapes that come in, or all I’d ever do is listen to tapes. I’m not
in the
artist development business, you know? My obligation is to the club. I
want
bands to fill up the club and sell a lot of drinks.” The bottom line is
that
bands should scout the clubs, and send their promo kits and tapes to
clubs that
frequently book bands working a similar vein. This seems obvious, but
it’s
apparently not. Your demo does you no good unless you pitch it
selectively and
smartly.
Yammering Twits
In dystopias like 1984 and Brave New World,
quite a few
20th-century writers have predicted that technology would bring about
an age of
tyranny to a degree never seen before in human history. Individualism,
they
thought, would be extinguished in an ever-more-centralized world in
which the
sheer speed and pervasiveness of information systems would effectively
stamp
out privacy, or, as Robinson Jeffers put it: “Add to kept bodies kept
souls.”
Wouldn’t Jeffers, George Orwell, and Aldous Huxley feel like a bunch of
yammering twits, then, when faced with the indie revolution? The growth
of
technology has actually decentralized the music business. It’s
no longer
only the giant corporations that can make quality recordings. Home
studios keep
popping up like bluebonnets, many of them with capabilities beyond what
the
best studios could do even 15 years ago. Drum machines, electronic
keyboards,
mastering software, and the like, enable people far from the major
music
centers to create sounds and textures that most ears can’t easily
distinguish
from a major label release. In short, technology has actually
democratized music.
In all the discussion about whether Austin is ever going to get a
world-class
studio so that more major label albums will be recorded here, etc.,
it’s easy
to forget that most of the recording industry in this town gets its
bread and
butter from people still on the low rungs of the ladder; people making
demos,
from four-track set-ups in garages on up to the numerous local
multi-tracks.
Some of these demos are truly terrible and a few are outstanding. A few
of the
people involved will go on to careers as producers, songwriters, even
as signed
label acts. Most will settle into other jobs, other lives, after a few
frustrating years. But they’ll still have that tape, they’ll still have
that
hedge against the ephemeral, and, for better or worse, they’ll remember
just
how they used to sound.
This article appears in May 12 • 1995 and May 12 • 1995 (Cover).