Why Wouldn’t Somebody Want to Book You?
One thing I’ve come to realize as I navigate this world of event people is, if you’re a musician or DJ and have your act together—like, you’ve got a thing, you’re presentable, your equipment is good and all that—you need to realize that it is a seller’s market.
There are not enough good, smart, talented people to fill the jobs that need to be done.
Only problem being: people don’t know how to contact you.
Let’s use DJing as an example.
People don’t know how to find you. People don’t know what to say. They don’t know what to pay you, and they’re generally nervy around music folk.
All they know is they want the music.
They’re not going to be able to tell you what they want, and you’re gonna need to pull all this information out of them.
So once you find the right people in events, you’ve got to be friendly enough and conversational enough to make them feel comfortable enough to explain—without knowing what they’re trying to say—what they’re after.
And then you’ve got to fill in the gaps.
And that’s all there is to it.
You can charge reasonably and then go to the event.
I was having a conversation with a friend today, and it did make me realize how much work there’s got to be out there on any front, but in this case, the DJing front.
Yes, all the other stuff is great, but I think the DJ gig is the money-maker right now.
The technology is now good enough to where you can also do it more times a week than not. You’re not carrying around huge crates of records and heavy equipment. Rather, you’ve got super-light, battery-powered options that set up cleanly almost anywhere.
I have a gig coming up at a very high-end jewelry store, and I’m confident that my setup will look clean and classy.
I already know that the music can fit the room, and it will be a nice addition to have the cool old guy in the corner spinning digital tunes.
I made the connection, and I told them what they wanted.
And they agreed.
That’s it.
The only thing that really gets in the way of doing more of this is the same thing that gets in the way of making art.
The real block here is the artistic mindset, or the War of Art, I guess people call it these days.
The same thing that lets you discriminate good music from bad, and pick the right song instead of the wrong song, is also telling you that you may not be good enough for this, or they may be looking for something else.
You can’t make decisions for other people.
It’s like getting the song right, which I talked about the other day.
I was at a poolside gig, and I was debating whether to play “Stuck in the Middle with You,” but I did it anyway.
And a guy came up to me and told me that it was a very important song to him in his life.
I mean, that’s what you’re doing these events for, right?
To connect with people like that.
I think it’s the same way my dog connects with me.
He typically doesn’t talk, but I know what he’s thinking because we just look at each other and we know.
I’m not talking about just when I’m eating something and he’s telling me: I want to eat that too. Give it to me.
I’m talking about when we’re in the backyard looking for something. We both know what we’re looking for.
When it’s time for us to run up the stairs, when that’s a better idea than walking.
That kind of connection.
Music isn’t a language or anything like that. A transmitted feeling, maybe?
You’ve got to believe that you can come to a place and do that no matter what happens.
These songs have been imprinted on people somewhere, at some time, with somebody.
And the weird thing is, nobody can remember all of that.
But they do remember the feeling something gives them.
When I hear an eight-track of Viva Terlingua or when I hear a cassette version of Synchronicity by The Police, it’s an instant transport back there.
It also reminds me that those places are still here.
They don’t go away.
I don’t know if they move or what they do, but they still exist, because I can go right back.
So is it physical or a place in your mind? Something in between?
I don’t know.
But playing the right song for the right people in the right atmosphere—that’s why the events are so good.
They take people out of their normal, dull, whatever-they-do-on-a-daily-basis thing they have to do, and they’ve come to this event to get away (hopefully).
And you’re out there with your telepathy, beaming feelings.
If you can do that, I don’t know if it’s hard or easy, but it seems to be easier for me than for other people.
So why wouldn’t somebody want to book that?
They wouldn’t not want to book it.
Ever.