Ep 24: Some Mistakes I've Made

In this episode, John gets honest about some lessons learned from years of gigging, traveling, creating, and trying to make a living in music. 

Every musician has stories they wish they could redo, decisions they’d take back, and moments that taught them something the hard way. But sharing our mistakes matters. It reminds us we’re not alone, helps some artists avoid unnecessary pain, and turns failure into something useful instead of something hidden. 

Transcript

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You are listening to the Gig to Live Podcast. Welcome everyone. I'm John Foles and I'm a full-time working musician. This podcast is about building a music life that holds up over time. It's practical, enjoyable, sometimes uncomfortable, but it's always about helping you stay in the game and actually enjoy the life that you're building. We'll meet some wonderful working musicians from time to time. So whether you're just getting started or you've been doing this for years, you're in the right spot. This podcast is for you. Welcome, welcome, welcome. I'm glad you're here. Thanks. I appreciate you. Today is National Transparency Day. Not really. But this episode is it should be a holiday. A day when we talk about our mistakes. That would be great. Today I thought it would be a good idea to talk about some of the mistakes that I've made along the way for a few reasons. Maybe I will save you some heartache. Maybe it will give you a peek into the real world that you're considering entering if you're just getting started. Maybe my mistakes will ring true for you, and then we'll have some helpful camaraderie. I also want you to know that I'm human, and just because I share learned wisdom on a podcast here doesn't mean that I haven't done some really dumb things. So I'll just get started talking about those dumb things that I've done along the way, and hopefully it will help you in some way. So today's top ten list is drum roll please. The top ten mistakes I've made. You know, there's others outside of this top ten. It was hard to pick, but these ones I think are important. So here we go. Number ten. Doing three gigs in one day. I thought I could do it, and ultimately I did do it. I just killed myself in the process. Not only for that day, but for the rest of the week. And you know what? You think I would have learned this after the first one, but three gigs in one day did not happen only once. How is it possible, you ask? Well it's easy. You start the day doing a grand opening for a store, and then you play the afternoon happy hour for a retirement community, and then you play eight o'clock to eleven o'clock that evening at the cocktail lounge, or you play for a funeral at eleven o'clock, and then you head to the afternoon wedding and you play that ceremony, and then you pack up and you finish your day doing a songwriter in the round event. Oh yeah, I could go on. Growing up in a contractor's home taught me some great things about making a living working for myself, but it also taught me some really bad habits that turned out to be lessons that took me years to learn. You know, people give contractors a bad name a lot of the time, and it's an overplayed joke, I think. But also, some contractors are horrible and they don't follow through on promises, they don't communicate well, yada yada. But let me tell you a little secret about contractors and how that world works. Every one of them that I know does this, every contractor I know. You have to keep multiple jobs going at one time to keep a steady income and food on the table. And when the money dries up at one job, I mean you plan on finishing, but you may need to go to another job and get that ball rolling, get the first draft, pay your staff, put some food on the table. It's the way it goes, bouncing around from job to job to get it all done. And you never turn down a job. You don't know when the next one is coming. You're always juggling. There is always a new contract. And I handled my music jobs like that for a bit, and occasionally I still let fear get in there and uh shake things up. But the last time that I took three gigs in one day, I looked at myself and I said, What are you doing? And maybe you can do it every once in a while, but be wise, listen to your body, or your calendar will start writing checks that your stamina cannot cash. Alright. Number nine. Not confirming details. There was a time I showed up to one gig on a 100 degree day only to find my stage area was on uneven ground in the direct hot sun, no shade. Another time I played an outdoor wedding and it started to rain, and I was in the open with all of my equipment. Then there was that time it was forty-five degrees outside, the exact opposite, and I could barely move my fingers on the fretboard. Once I got to a gig and there was no power anywhere. I had to run back home and grab extension cords that would reach about 150 feet to the power source. Thankfully, I was only about 20 minutes from home for that one. Then there was the time where I had to park about a half mile away, and the restaurant was on a one-way street, and the parking cost money, quarters to be exact. And there was a three-hour time limit on the meter for a three-hour gig. It only took a few times of showing up at a gig and getting surprised to realize that I needed to have a checklist of some kind so I knew exactly what I needed when I showed up at the gig and I knew exactly what to ask for. I don't want to be surprised, and I don't want to have to super sleuth ways to fix it. I don't have to be miserable the entire gig when I have a checklist, or I don't have to put myself at risk in any way. I have taken things for granted sometimes because it seems like there would be no issue, like the time I got hired to play inside a bar. I mean, what could go wrong? But it was in an old building and the power source was in the ceiling of the bar. And they weren't used to having music there at this bar. It was brand new for them bringing live music acts into the bar. I had to find a ladder from a nearby store just to plug in. My list of things that I need today is not ridiculous. It's not like I'm asking for green MMs and whiskey, you know, a particular bottle of whiskey backstage. It's the essentials. A level place to play, power nearby. If power is far away, then they should run an extension cord with a power strip to where I'm setting up. And I need shade. And now I tell them if it's colder than sixty five degrees, I need to be inside. Or in some cases, I at least need a source of heat because it's risky. If it's super windy, I need to be inside. If there's a threat of rain, we need an inside backup plan. I confirm these things before I get there. I tell them I need a place to park nearby, or at least I need to know the parking plan in advance. Number eight, not having snacks, food, or water. I have some health issues. I know this, I live with them, I need to eat, I need protein, I need snacks, I need water, we all need water. Yet there have been times when I'm in a rush to get out the door and I have gone without eating, and I've forgotten my snack pack or I've forgotten to fill my water bottle and I end up being miserable. Sometimes hosts will have those things for you, like if you're at a bar, you're at a restaurant, or even at a private gig, but there have been many times when I'm desperate and there is nothing in sight, like the time that I played a grand opening of a clothing store and I had to walk to the safe way in the other shopping center on my break and barely make it back in time. Or the time that I played in a park and there was absolutely nothing around unless I wanted to go ask a person for something out of their personal cooler. This is a bad one for me. I've become accustomed to being within a stone's throw of somewhere where I can get sustenance, but planning in advance takes away the guesswork and it takes away the you know, potential for disasters. Number seven. Staying true to a venue for too long. I'm a bleeding heart when it comes to venues that are struggling. I've been there. I want them to make it so bad, so sometimes I share the burden with them a bit. I don't I don't have to, but it's my prerogative, and I'll make them a deal to lock me in for a few dates at a discount, with the understanding that I'll get paid more at the end of that season. But a couple of times the bleeding heart takes over and I've extended that generosity for far too long. The problem is then the venue begins to expect my generosity as opposed to being grateful for it. So there have been occasions where I've extended the grace for too long and I end up turning down high-paying gigs too many times. There was one pub that I helped out for two years. We became friends. I I love the guy. I was getting paid his standard musician pay, but that pay was lower than I charge. And it was not a good rate for any musician. I was trying to help him work through this. We put together a plan where he would raise his rates over a few months, and I helped him as a regular musician who was bringing in guests. And I did, man, I brought people in. I always filled multiple tables and the bar seats, but he didn't change. And I approached him one day and I told him it was time to raise my rates, and he said he couldn't. I told him my crowd more than paid for me to play at the higher rate, and he said he couldn't. So I had to let him go. And I stayed way too long trying to help him. Other examples of this are when venues don't do their part on promotion or other circumstances make it hard on the musician. Yes, I don't exist for the venue. We've talked about this, right? I you know, I I mean the venue doesn't exist for me, rather. You know, it's not all about me. But when a venue isn't professional, like regularly canceling gigs right before the show or regularly forgetting they hired you for a date because they're horrible planners, then it may be time to exit. And sometimes I have stayed too long. Number six. Not confirming a date with a venue. These days I make it a habit to reach out to a venue before my gig and say something like, Hey, I'm looking forward to this Saturday, or same routine for this Friday, and I'll also send my social media post to them directly, besides tagging them on social media or inviting them to collaborate because I've found when they get the promotion from me directly, they'll usually respond and they'll thank me. Anything I can do to confirm the date is helpful. Before I did this as a regular routine, there were a couple of times that I drove to a gig only to find out that they had planned a special event for that night and they, you know, oops, forgot to call me, or they double booked and they changed their live music nights from Fridays to Thursdays. The list goes on. But packing up your gear to head home before your gig even begins is no fun. Number five, not having extra supplies, strings, batteries, a step stool, an extension cord, a fan for those hot outside days, or the hot inside days when the air conditioner isn't working. I've been there before too. These are all things that I carry with me now. If you're not a guitarist, think about the other things you might need. I don't know, a backup power supply, extra drumsticks, a backup sustained pedal, another microphone, extra quarter inch cables or XLR cables. It's difficult to finish a gig with five strings for a guitarist. I have been on gigs where that has happened, uh, and it was a bad mistake. I've also met on gigs with a drummer who broke their only pair of sticks. That was fun. You know, that bride is still walking down the aisle. The birthday party is still happening. The crowd is still going to show up at six o'clock. The bar still needs you. I've been forced to improvise too many times to not carry extra stuff with me, and I don't want to make those mistakes again. Number four. Taking a gig too far away. Just like doing multiple gigs in a day or not asking for enough money, I have made this mistake out of fear. Fear that if I don't take the job, I won't have a gig that weekend or fear that I won't pay my bills. But it's not sustainable to take gigs that are far away all the time unless you command a high dollar and you are in high demand. I mean sure, if you know the gig pays well and the tips are always amazing, then continue on. Put that seven dollar plus a gallon diesel in your truck and go to that gig. I have one gig I drive three hours to, but every time I do it, I make four times my regular take home pay for a weekend gig that's close to me. So sometimes, but not all the time. I'm talking about the faraway gigs that drain your energy, they drain your fuel tank, they don't pay amazing, and there's no way you're going to build a sustainable, lasting relationship with them or gain a following in the area. I've made that mistake, and I have gone home depleted when I could have taken a gig closer to home and everything would have turned out just fine. I needed to learn along the way. I don't have to say yes. The gig police are not watching me. It will not hurt my reputation to turn down the ridiculous. Not anymore. I used to get discouraged when I didn't get likes or I didn't get feedback or shares or people didn't respond to my group invites. But the popular social media platforms are algorithm driven, not audience driven, not fan driven, not friend driven. We hear algorithm all the time, right? Well, what does that mean for us? It means that our followers are not standing in line ready to receive every post we make. I mean, even if it worked that way, nobody is watching social media for my posts to drop. The platforms are constantly filtering and ranking and squashing and suppressing and prioritizing and sidelining and testing and redistributing the content based on thousands of things, little tiny signals here and there and information that we will not always understand, or not even begin to understand. So a friend or a fan can follow us for years and they can barely see our posts. Or maybe they don't even see them at all. And another person who never follows you might see you constantly because they watched one reel that you posted three months ago and they liked it and they reposted it. Who knows how this thing works? But we imagine I have 3,000 followers, therefore 3,000 people receive my post, but absolutely not true. What actually happens is more like this a platform like Instagram, which I love, shows your post or your reel or your story to a small group of people first. And usually it's a group with similar likes. And if that group interacts quickly enough, or they interact over a short period of time with comments and shares, and they re-watch your reel over and over, or they click on something to follow through, or or they stay there and they linger on your platform for a bit, then the platform expands distribution for those posts. If not, the post may just sit there and look like you totally bombed. Sometimes it dies a horrible death within a few minutes. Sometimes it's this long, slow, painful lingering death. Sometimes it resurrects days later. It shows up. You've seen that before, right? You're on social media and all of a sudden you see something that somebody posted last month and you think, why am I just seeing this? Sometimes strangers see it before your actual followers do. So good luck figuring it all out. But if your followers regularly interact with your media, then you have a way higher chance of them seeing your latest posts. Certainly, if they're big enough fans to check out your stuff every day, you know, go to your site and see what's the latest thing, then they're gonna see it. But good luck getting everybody to do that. Social media is not like a flyer in a crowded mall. It's not like email, it's not like snail mail, it's not like a phone call. It's like going to a rock concert and the band is playing super loud and everyone in the audience is loud, and then the lead singer sees your sign that you're holding up from the back of the room, and they call you up on stage, and then she dismisses a ton of the audience, and then she handpicks who she wants to stay in the room to hear your voice as you address the crowd. And if those people like what they hear, they may, may go tell their friends, and it may gain traction. Plus, remember your posts are entering this massive river of competing posts that are coming at people at breakneck speed. Funny cat videos, politics, paid advertisements, family photos, the video of the top ten farts ever caught on video. You name it. Even timing will change it. A post can perform terribly because people are at work or they're asleep or they're traveling or emotionally preoccupied. And then platforms reward things that increase retention and interaction. So that means visibility is constantly fluctuating according to whatever the platform's priorities are at that time, and users rarely see or understand this. Are you getting this? So keep posting, keep growing your audience, but remember it's also an illusion. It is not the shared public experience we were once led to believe it is, but not anymore. Number two, not pacing myself, booking too many gigs, too close together. Giving the later crowds a tired version of myself, working on my rest days, not paying attention to the season that is coming up, you know, pushing myself and then, oh no, that's right. This is the month where I am just back to back to back to back. And I knew that one month was coming up, so I should have planned not as much the month before. Too many times I have not stopped to take a breath. And not only do I become physically depleted, I become emotionally numb, unavailable, a bad friend, a bad husband. And it's not the workload's problem. It's mine. Just like the alcohol is not the alcoholic's problem. Being self aware, paying attention to the signs, listening to the people who love you, you know, those things go out the window and you find yourself in a horrible place, often hating the very thing that you used to love. I have been there. Pacing is incredibly important. We can push hard for a time for a season when it makes sense and we plan for it, but killing it every night with no recovery regimen is not sustainable. Number one. Uh I don't even want to say this one. Thinking I'm invincible. It's kind of like not pacing myself, but it shows up differently. You know, singing a very difficult song at the top of my set without proper warm-up. Doing that one song in that one key because somebody dropped a 20 for me even though I'm exhausted. Playing for an extra hour because someone said they'd pay me an extra hundred bucks. This happened once. Doing a private party after the gig because somebody said they were going to pay me a lot of money. Uh saying that the six-hour long gig is going to be just fine because it was a double header and the other performer didn't show up. I'm an idiot sometimes. In the moment, it can feel heroic, committed, sacrificial. Maybe you even feel professional, you know, you're the guy or the girl who keeps on ticking. But it's disrespectful to yourself. We are not designed to just perform more, produce more, and push harder. The body is a beautiful mechanism, but it is not an invincible machine. I've made these mistakes, I have paid for them. Longevity is not built by proving to anyone you're invincible. It's built on learning your limits before your limits school you. Well, that's enough of me today. I hope this helps. Until next time, stay creative, stay after it, and stay hired.