Cover Gigs
“PLAY SOME SKYNYRD!”
“How it stings when we kiss and she opens her eyes…”
“SKYNYRD! FREE BIRD! PLAY IT!”
I used to play a lot of what I affectionately refer to as cover gigs. In most instances, a cover gig is a 3-4 hour performance at a bar or restaurant where people aren’t specifically attending to listen to the performer. People attend cover gigs because they want to hear live music, which sometimes feels categorized as a glorified jukebox. They want to dance, sing along, and just have a grand old time.
Cover gigs are a far cry from musical performances. In my assessment, a musical performance is a gig where listeners attend in order to catch a specific artist(s), pick up a CD, hear the latest releases, etc. Listening to the music, lyrics, the artists’ crowd banter, and watching the performance typically overrides the desire to sing along and dance.
I have nothing bad to say about cover gigs. They pay great, the material is already written, everyone sings along and has a blast, and there’s little pressure on the performer. But there was a time in my life I didn’t realize there was a big difference between cover gigs and musical performances. I viewed every gig as a combination of both. I would try to incorporate my own songs in a set filled with the billboard top 40. The only problem with that logic is that the more people drink, the more they want to hear the songs they recognize. They don’t want to listen to an introspective tale loaded with metaphors and deep intimate reflection. They don’t have the patience to sit quietly and ask, “I wonder what was going on in his life when he wrote that song.” What I have experienced is that they’ll wait for about half the song, and then start yelling what they want me to play next.
“DO YOU KNOW ANY GARTH!?!”
“My heart is breaking. My soul is gone…”
(Eyes glaring up at a titer tottering college kid with a backwards hat and a Busch Light in each hand)
“Can you please play Friends in Low Places next?”
“Yep – now go sit down”
I shouldn’t get frustrated over things like that. It comes with the territory. If I’m going to play a cover gig, I have to accept the fact that people are there to see me. They are there to experience live music. But instances like that really did discourage me for awhile. I’d come home and say, “Why do I even write music? No one wants to hear it.” It took some growing up (as a person and as a musician) that allowed me to step back, understand, and appreciate the difference between the cover gig and the musical performance.
I’ll still play a cover gig every now and then. More often than not, the cover gig is the back deck of a friend’s house. But I get much more satisfaction and enjoym
ent out of playing original music shows. As a musician, playing a cover song is like a painter painting someone else’s masterpiece. Like Ann Hamilton (a famous American artist known for her sculptures) being asked to remake Michelangelo’s The Pieta. What’s the significance in redoing something that it already perfect?
There is however, something to be said about taking a cover song and making it your own. By that I mean, not just mimicking the words, tempo, and pitches of a song, but instead taking the shell of the song (usually words and chords) and altering them into a different version. For example, take a listen to Ryan Adam’s version of Oasis’s hit song Wonderwall . Sure it’s the same lyrics and overall chord progression, but it’s a completely different song. A friend of mine has asked me to create my own version of Guns N’ Roses song Sweet Child of Mine for his daughter’s baptism. I have been fiddling around with it on the piano, and I have a slower more classical version in mind. I think it’s going to sound great. Once it’s done, I’ll record it and post it on the media page.
No matter how you slice it, the songwriter in all of us longs to be creative and expressive. We want to create something fresh and new, something that inspires others or at least provokes them to think. Covering other musician’s masterpieces can be fun, rewarding, and challenging, but it will never scratch my artistic itch.
Check out the below pic of my very first cover gig. My friend Ian (left) and I were invited to play a couple hours of music at Trenton, MI bar Mr. Nicks. It must have been the year 2000 or 2001.
Songwritting
I’m curious to hear how other musicians write songs. Better yet, I’m curious to hear the details behind ANY artist’s creative processes. As a poet, do you find a cozy spot in the woods to sit down with your pen and paper to tell riddles of nature? Or do you come up with little puzzle pieces of ideas that you allow to free-float around in your brain until finally one word or thought ignites your neocortex and you’re able to tie it all together?
What about painters and sculptors? Do you park yourselves in front of paints, marble, and clay while saying, “what should I create today?”
I have a couple different approaches I take towards music, and although each has its pros and cons, I haven’t found one all encompassing process that I love.
1.) I’m going to write a song – This is my least effective process. This is when I sit down in front of my piano or guitar, harmonicas, pens and paper with the goal of creating a new song. It usually ends in one of two ways. A.) I’ll actually write a song that has already been written, either by myself or someone else. I won’t notice it until I get all excited it’s done. I’ll play it back to myself and say, “Wow, that sounds a lot like a Dave Matthews Song.” “Hmm, those are actually the same exact chords as Crash Into Me just played in a different order.” “Dang it, these are pretty much the same words. I just replaced adjectives.” Or, B.) I’ll get MAYBE one or two lines of okay material, get frustrated, then play all my old stuff for a couple of hours.
2.) Feeling Inspired – I’ll go through phases of extreme inspiration. This usually happens when I’m either going though some life changing experiences (heartaches, deaths, births, breakups, new relationships, etc) – or I’m getting out to a large number of music shows (local and national levels). Either way, I find a guitar sitting on my lap a lot more frequent around this time. I love it when I get in these moods, but the drawback is I can’t always control it.
3.) The Gift – This is the most effective process, and if I could bottle it up and tap into it whenever I wanted, I’d have a slew of successful songs released. The Gift is when there’s no indication or clues, but I just pick up the guitar and magic comes out. Words I’d never thought about stringing together find their way in line. When this happens, I notice it immediately and usually try to isolate myself somewhere with a pen and paper. When the moment passes, it’s hard to get it back. I have a song on my upcoming album called “Familiar Face,” that came to me like this. It took me about 5 minutes to write, but every word that came out felt important, perfect, and irreplaceable.
If you’re a creative person and are willing to share your processes, please feel free to reply to this post. If you would like it to stay a bit more private, you can send me a note via the Contact tab.
