24. Now I am officially old (Or, “Now I am officially timeless and old”)

[Pt. 1 of 2]

And so, finally, the day arrived.

February 26, 2023...

I made it.

That evening, my improv live show, the one I'd been anticipating for several months...

Me, TN (with whom I'd collaborated in '22), a young saxophone player I'd met at the end of '20 at an event, and who had also performed with us on my birthday the year I'd turned 49, though not again since then...

And also, of course, the Butoh dancer I had earlier mentioned, with whom, just four days prior, and for the first time ever, I'd also done a different sort of improv live collaborative performance at a different, even smaller venue, with me playing, alternately, the acoustic and an out-of-tune piano (the event was completely "unplugged") and also singing from time to time, improvising lyrics and melodies and/or singing some of my own songs in fragmentary fashion, while the dancer did his contortionistic, improvisational "dance of darkness."

After the birthday show, which I filmed from multiple angles and later edited together, also creating a LOGIC-worthy audio version (currently available on my BandCamp page), I felt pretty darn good, not because there had been any great turnout (there hadn't), nor because anyone had treated me to birthday cake with or without candles or a nice meal, or even bought me a beer (no one did any of these things, in fact; the year before was the same, though at least a few friends had come out to the show that time), but, rather, because I was a.) in an elated state of mind, generally, feeling much better about myself and my life this year than last (having battled, and then learned to stop battling, the inner demons, rather than due to any external circumstances that had improved per se), b.) I was happy with the performance itself, no matter the lousy turnout, and the fact that these three excellent artists had agreed to perform together with me on this momentous occasion (momentous for me!) and, lastly, c.) a woman I had recently started communicating with/seeing "long distance" had come to see the show that night (the only "friend" who actually showed and wished me a happy 50th in person).

The next day I wrote, via private SNS messaging, to the owner to thank him. He is a friend with whom I've been connected for a couple of years now, not only having performed at his place and eaten curry there, too, many times, but also, more recently, I'd written a "curry-themed song" acoustically, with Japanese lyrics, that got me a chance to perform in front of many people at a large event he/his cafe-bar had participated in (he won an award for his coconut pork curry that evening, though this had absolutely nothing to do with my little song!). In any case, he was kind and positive as always, but also (half-jokingly) made a comment to the effect of, "Next year, if you want to do a birthday show again, I'll have to ask you to bring at least 15-20 guests with you!" Though he had likely meant it in jest (he has a rather quirky, often sardonic sense of humor), I realized that, in fact, he had not only not made money on the event, but had likely even lost some money on it, and so also, by extension, on me and my inability to draw a crowd, even for my "big" 50th birthday performance, advertised as "Marc Lowe and Friends"... And while I apologized to him the next time I saw him in person, he just shrugged it off and kindly said that it was a good show, and that he was glad to have done it together, which was rather kind. Indeed, his words made me feel a mixture of gratitude and, well...I really don't want to use a word like "shame" or "guilt," but perhaps also some sense, from a business perspective, of responsibility for not being able to have at least pulled in a few people to the event. (Of course I, too, was disappointed that even some of the people who had told me they were coming did not, in the end, show.) Perhaps this is why, since February 26, I have felt overall less enthusiastic about accepting offers for live shows, or actively seeking them out, as I once did.

(Okay, so here goes a little itty-bitty diatribe/rant-like thing. If I may...)

This is my gig now, right? 

Right.

I mean, I don't need to sell copies of this book, since it is 100% my gig, correct?

This is how I function best. 

I know my personality, and I have zero business sense, nor any excess energy to waste on being a people-pleaser. I won't do it in order to get folks to come to my shows, either, and it's very likely the main reason why I also can never sell my CDs, no matter the quality of the packaging or of what's inside, musically-speaking. I have tried different approaches to my own "marketing" or "branding" or whatever, but it never works. I have only sold things on the rare occasion when someone has approached me after a performance, already eager to buy something, i.e. not because I had enticed him or her to do so via any manipulative promotional-terroristic means, but rather because that person had already decided for him or herself that he (or she) wanted to buy a CD to listen to at home. This is how I have made sales in the past. Not by plea bargaining, nor by begging or cajoling or by making such commercial music that people who watch me perform live just can't stop humming those oh-so-catchy Marc Lowe tunes afterwards and just needs a f*#%@ CD...right now!!!

You see...

Ahem.

I am not good at PR (see what I just wrote, above), have never been good at PR, and very, very likely will never be good at it.

Nor am I good at adjusting to other's expectations of me musically, or in any other way, really, though I am willing to compromise when compromise is necessary and/or the right thing to do in a mutually-agreeable relationship... (But this is not the ideal way to make music, IMO.)

Nor am I willing to so easily give up on my vision of what my music (yes, it is "mine," mine in the sense that I am the one who is creating it and spending so many days and weeks and months and even years thinking about it and crafting it and tweaking it and arranging/rearranging it, etc.) should sound like, or about how it should be arranged (by another), etc. 

(Let me here restate/clarify that, in a true mutual collaboration, when the input is 50/50 from the outset -- this is what "collaborative" generally is, though sometimes, depending on the piece or the inspiration, it might be more like 40/60 or 60/40 or some other fraction -- and when something works, I am absolutely thrilled to try things differently, including my own songs or arrangements! More recently, most of my collaborations have, therefore, been improvisational, and so I feed off of the other person's energy and vice-versa. It's an experience and an experiment for both parties, and often times it is both surprising and extremely inspiring to collaborate in this way with "like-minded" musicians. However, I won't bend to so-called "peer pressure" to appease an imagined audience, or to make a sale, or because the other person or persons insists that his/her/their version is "better" for whatever reason, and without any real discussion or compromise on the other side as well as on mine.)

Please also understand -- and, if you've been paying any attention to what I've been saying all along, this won't really come as any surprise -- that I do not ever (ever) give a second's worth of consideration to what is popular "this week" or "this year" or "in Japan/Tokyo" etc., all of which is a load of transient rubbish, in my opinion, and has no place in making or performing music.

(Exhalation...)

And so, currently, as I spend more and more time alone, and less and less time (and energy) around frivolous groupthink and gossip, and as I socialize less and less, rushing out less to others' shows or events in order to curry favor with other acts and/or with people who might invite me to perform at the livehouses themselves, etc. (although, you know, I definitely do go to shows on occasion, i.e. when I really want to see a particular performance or performer, or if I really want to support someone with whom I have maintained some sort of relationship over time, some sort of mutual friendship, though, more times than not, the gesture is not necessarily reciprocated -- which really is not the point I am trying to make... Which really is also exactly the point I am making, if you get my meaning?)... You may easily imagine, then, how it has become more and more difficult to ask people to come and see my shows, no matter how much preparation I do for them, no matter how many people might enjoy it/them if they only decided to come and see what was happening...

On the other hand, maybe not.

Maybe my constant flirting with this style and that one, or doing things that are not readily classifiable, and which often change, has proven "fatal" to my fanbase and attendance record at live shows. Maybe I simply make too much music for people to keep up with it. (This I have been told on multiple occasions over the years.) Essentially, I never do the same show twice, or that has been my basic "standard" or rule of thumb to follow... If I am doing two or three shows back-to-back, I will still change the setlists around and do different songs or styles. Depending on the venue and the setting, and also depending on who else is performing on that night and what the main genre or genres appear to be emphasizing, I might also intentionally play different instruments, make one performance completely acoustic, the other completely electronic (which could be improv, beatless ambient/noise, programmed beats, etc.), sit in on the drums during one show (if the venue has a kit on their stage to use, and if they don't charge me extra to use it!), and then focus on singing behind a keyboard during the next, etc.

I am not a beggar. I am not doing this for the "numbers" or for the superficial (and ultimately fleeting) feeling that I have somehow risen in the ranks of...what? What does it prove??

This is not why I do this. This is not what making music is about.

And so, do as you will. 

I shall do as I do, too.

If someone wants to come, they should come.

If they don't, fine.

How's this?

No expectations = no disappointment.

No disappointment = no problem (for either party involved, or, rather, uninvolved)

Which brings me to the next thing I wanted to talk about...

(Oh, and this officially ends the "rant." The rest is written in a rather more positive, or at least a much less "rant-ful," tone.)

[Continued...]