The indie label signaling game is broken

The major labels have plenty of money to throw around, so it's no big deal for them to snatch up any and every band out there that can demonstrate a shred of artistic potential. If a band is successful, the payoff is enormous; if not, they're held in permanent indenture. Either way, the decision to sign is relatively straightforward and painless for the labels, since it involves little risk for them. In its heyday, this system was foolproof.

By contrast, the indie labels don't have unlimited resources at their disposal. Thus, they can't invest in unrealised potential; they invest in working bands. The decision to sign can be agonisingly difficult: who can really say that one band is intrinsically better than another, out of the tens of thousands of bands out there? In the end, local buzz and a history of touring make all the difference; from the perspective of the labels, this kind of proven track record conveniently signals a band's seriousness and competence. And in its heyday, this system was pretty effective as well.

We all know that thanks to the Internet, the major label system has been broken for quite some time now. Few seem to have noticed that the indie label signaling game has been no less compromised, however. I would argue that a signaling game is broken once those sending the signals are: a) aware of its rules, and b) able to affect the outcome based on that awareness. In this age of the self-empowered artist, these two conditions are increasingly the norm. Bands today have both the incentive and the wherewithal to cultivate their signaling devices directly, while cutting corners on improving the artistic skills that such signals are meant to signify. To be fair, these efforts are almost always sincere, not cynically manipulative; they simply follow the wisdom of our day, after all. And the difference is so subtle and the change has been so gradual that few of us even notice.

Look at touring, for example. In the past, with nothing else at stake, bands used to tour only once they believed they were either good enough or popular enough to recover the exorbitant costs involved. Plus, it's easier to develop as a songwriter and musician when one isn't under constant pressure to tour. Doing things in this order just makes sense. Nowadays, though, bands barely half a year old willingly go on tour at a loss, playing to empty bars and clubs in cities where no one has heard of them, hoping that such efforts will signal that they're good and popular enough.

And it's hard to argue with this wisdom when the indie labels receiving these signals haven't bothered to modify their interpretations. But they will soon enough. I'm reminded of the emergency exit doors in the subway stations here in New York, which emit a high-pitched siren when opened. They also double as service doors for large carts, strollers, and anything else that can't fit through the turnstiles, in which case a station agent will deactivate the alarm. But due to budget cuts, many stations are no longer manned by an agent, so people are constantly streaming out the doors every other minute; as a result, the emergency siren is now just more background noise to tolerate and ignore. It no longer signifies anything; it's useless as a signal.

And since any band with a whole lot of free time can jump aboard a tour van, or badger their friends with emails about upcoming shows, the results obtained by these measures are now useless as signals of artistic worth; they've become just more background noise to filter out. Someday soon, the indie labels will have to acknowledge that their signaling game is broken. And then what? What will all that time and effort spent sharpening one's signals be worth then? I'd imagine it would feel like maxing out your credit card to buy leather pants the week before grunge broke.

So this is why I'm spending the next few months working on a comic book to go along with the upcoming Rosalind Franklin album. I enjoy drawing, I think the album will benefit artistically from it, and I believe there are enough people out there who can appreciate it. I'd like to get better at creating outstanding works, not worry about bringing those works to a wider audience, so that's where I'll concentrate my focus. It's a lousy mindset for getting signed to a label, yes, but a great strategy for being worthy of one. And it's only a matter of time before this observation becomes too painfully obvious to ignore.

So my advice to anyone out there interested in something beyond just transitory recognition, whether in the arts, academia, relationships, or anywhere else, follows this line of thinking: Invest in your talents, not in signaling devices. It doesn't benefit you in the long run to play anyone's signaling game. (Of course, only time will tell whether my advice is actually any good!)

Dredging up some mental detritus

I don't mean to sound so full of myself, but by this time next year I'm pretty sure I will have attained a modicum of recognition within some indie rock circles. I now know so much more about the way of things than I did several years ago, and objectively, this Rosalind Franklin comic book and album will be noteworthy and accomplished enough that it's difficult to imagine the outcome being anything otherwise.

The problem is, by then I will be completely immersed in my doctoral studies and probably too busy to do interviews, which would likely involve a few questions about my reaction to the failure of Yearling's Bobtail and our rejection by various record labels. Luckily, these past few weeks I've been brainstorming ideas for our Kickstarter campaign, and in so doing, I've revisited many of those old issues that I'd long since stored away for the benefit of my emotional recovery.

So I'm going to post some of them here on this blog now, for anyone in the future who might be curious enough to ask. I'll try my best to stay civil and gracious, but unfortunately, some of these thoughts probably don't lend themselves well to such an attitude. If this should ever be the case, please keep in mind that I'm simply spouting whatever was in my head several years ago, and that I've grown quite a bit since then.

Applying to a PhD program

It's official: I've been accepted to the Theory program at University of Washington and the Composition program at Florida State University, albeit with no word on funding yet from either school. I was rejected by Princeton and Eastman for Composition, and by Yale and Indiana for Theory. Overall, I'm quite happy with this outcome.

During the whole application process, I found Trevor de Clercq's webpage detailing his own experiences to be a very useful reference, as there really isn't much advice out there that pertains specifically to doctoral programs in music. My results are nowhere near as lofty as his, of course, but I'd still like to pay it forward and help shed some light on the process for any future applicants.

I should begin by saying that I applied to eight Composition programs last year and was soundly rejected by all eight: Harvard, Princeton, Cornell, Eastman, University of Chicago, Northwestern, CUNY, and USC. Eastman actually interviewed me for my second choice of Theory, but I was ultimately rejected for that as well. While I was there, I realised just how out of my league I was: I'd never heard of transformational theory, for example. In hindsight, it was probably a stellar recommendation from Poundie Burstein, a heavyweight in the Theory field, that netted me the interview.

Still, my weekend in Rochester was an eye-opener, and taught me two things. First, I should have put more thought into the schools I chose, and second, I should apply to some Theory programs for the next round. My pieces are overwhelmingly tonal and influenced by popular music, which isn't what the prestigious schools want. I felt like I would always be just an also-ran in the hopelessly subjective world of Composition; by contrast, the more objective world of Theory seemed to offer greater certainty and control over my future.

With guidance from my Theory professor Philip Ewell last spring, I began reading the recent literature on transformational and neo-Riemannian theory. Twice a week, I would read a journal article and then write a thorough summary. My Kindle DX came in extremely handy since I could download the pdfs from JSTOR and read them on the train. I became intrigued by the work on geometric voice-leading models, which led to the ideas outlined in my two writing samples. I chose schools and programs based on those who have written on this subject, which led to an even balance between Theory and Composition programs.

I also joined the Society for Music Theory mailing list, which kept me informed about various things happening in the Theory world. That's how I heard about a summer program in Durham, UK, to which I applied and was accepted. I also managed to snag a diversity travel grant to SMT's annual conference in Indianapolis last fall. Both experiences made me realise just how small the Theory world is. You can make friends and connections just by sticking around long enough.

Here are my academic qualifications in a nutshell:

• UC Berkeley: BA in Religious Studies, 3.72 GPA, Regents Scholar
• Hunter College, CUNY: MA in Composition, 4.0 GPA
• GRE score: 760 verbal, 800 math, 4.0 analytical writing

Other components of my application:

• Personal statement
• Writing sample #1: "Using Geometric Models to Compose in Virtual Realms"
• Writing sample #2: "Diminished Triads and Scale Networks in the Hexagonal Virtual Room"
• "Amnestic Hexagon": a short wind trio demonstrating the method of virtual composition described in my two writing samples
• "String Quartet": a four-movement pop suite performed by the Attacca Quartet
• "Ash Wednesday," "Cremated," and "Kyon?": three Bobtail Yearlings songs, each displaying a notable musical feature (quarter tones, Shepard tones, and polyrhythms, respectively)
• "Classical Symphony": my Master's thesis, a four-movement symphony; score only, since it was never performed
• Letters of recommendation from Poundie Burstein, Shafer Mahoney, and Philip Ewell

Update, April 1, 2011: I've decided to go with UW. I would have studied Composition under Clifton Callender at FSU; at UW, I'll be studying Theory under John Rahn. Both are very good programs, and each has its unique merits. In the end, it came down to which city I'd prefer to spend at least the next three years of my life in.

Update, June 17, 2011: UW has offered me a $10,000 scholarship and an RA position for the first quarter, which comes with a stipend and tuition waiver. I found out about this a couple months ago but forgot to update this post. Sorry.