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Van Hunt - From The Road
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
The latest Dispatch From The Road comes from Van Hunt (above), a recent Los Angeles transplant who still considers the Atlanta Music Scene home. (No wonder he’s playing two nights - this evening and tomorrow - at the Apache Cafe. Did you catch his solo bow years ago at Smith’s Olde Bar (with Dionne Farris singing background)? Planning to go to any - or both - of the Apache shows this weekend? Looking forward to his long-awaited follow-up to “On The Jungle Floor”? ) Oh yeah - back to Van Hunt’s “Dispatch”: pitchman The times, they are a’ changin’. but, i’m usually the
last to be convinced. it’s part stubbornness; and,
part laziness; . . and, ok, it’s part narcissism, too. as a rule, i always assume that people do not know
what they are talking about. therefore, 10 years ago
— when my closest friend rode up to my porch on
horseback screaming, “the internet is coming! the
internet is coming!” — i loped back into my house,
pressed play on the vcr (leaving the tv volume muted;
because i generally only like the visuals in movies.
not the dialogue) fired up my 4-track recorder and
continued to work out the guitar part on a soon to be
titled ditty. “what difference does it make? the only
thing that matters is the quality of my work.” i muttered while i fought off a developing sense of
doom. when that same friend returned — this time on a
donkey — he warned “you will be one of the last
recording artists signed to a major record label
deal.” i said “look! i don’t know whether you want to
be Paul Revere or the Headless Horseman, but would you
please stop interrupting me?” he continued. “you’d
better start getting all of your content together.
start collecting your fan email. get on-line and start
blogging.” i said “thank you, Nostradamus” and slammed
the door. i walked his words to the back of my head. i
shot them and left them for dead. but, like a true anecdotal tale, my friend’s words
have come back to haunt me. as i play catch up to
musicians who have become full-time bloggers and cyber
store managers, his warnings exact a heavy and
settling revenge. i was, indeed, amongst the last
exodus of record label artists who signaled the final
gasp of the industry as we knew it and suddenly found
themselves “free.” but, i’d never felt enslaved in the
first place; so, i’d never yearned for freedom. not
the kind of freedom i find myself surrounded by,
today. it is a liberation that came without revolt. i
am more an adult orphan than i am revolutionary. i was
content strategically battling “executives” — 50 year
old sycophants — over the direction of my music. but, now, with the “middleman removed, i find my music in
the throes of a riot. close enough to touch thousands
of frenzied, starving artists, who were always there,
but have now moved in and become e-tailers and
computer gypsys and make up the crowded kiosks in the
digital bizarre that is the internet. i stumble on into the carnival with my wares and speculate about
its chances of being heard over OR under the cacophany
of the market. the police have gone. they escaped
peril and are now limited to patroling the perimeters
of the chaos. there are no standards and no quality
control. i’ve opted to move my music out of the music
section of the free market; because there’s no longer
much music IN the music section of the free market. i
might as well set up shop in the laptop section of the
free market; or the starbucks or pinkberry section.
there’s more foot traffic there. it is a near desultory awareness to find my career left at the
mercy of the musical tastes of “foot traffic.”
ironically, it is where i always told those 50 year
old record label executives that my music should be
judged. but, i never imagined that as my own defense
attorney i would be setting myself free to be my own
pitchman. i thought my work would suffice as its own
advertising. but, the work is not all that matters.
it’s just all that matters TO ME. if i want to get top
dollar for my art (or ANY kind of dollar for that
matter) then i must not only create art. i must now
produce, market, promote, manufacture and distribute.
.. . art. v h . i’m 10 songs in to the new album. website is up. won’t
be long, now, before the sign on the store says “open.”
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