Small steps, big success? A new take on crowdfunding

A fledgling Brum publishing house takes a different tack.

 

Now, a success story. Just under two weeks ago at date of this post, local author JP Watson launched a crowdfunding appeal for his Pound Project. The goal was to hit a modest target, funding printing of a short story and raising funds for a charity that supports new writing. As with many such projects, the more you put in, the sweeter the reward. JP has dreamed up some very attractive options.

Good news: JP met his £500 target in three days flat, and the project is still pulling in funds. Why? because the short story in question comes from the wonderful Paul Murphy, who left us in 2016, having made a huge mark on the cultural life of Birmingham and beyond.

There's lessons to be learned here. I chewed them over with JP last week.

There's a new online kid on the radio block.

Our city. Our music. Our stories.

Radio tells stories better than almost any other medium. Take it with you. You don't need to look, just listen. 

It's been that way for close on a century. But now, the rules and the tools have changed. 

It doesn't break the bank to get started. Anyone can get on air. So there's tons of internet stations. Some want to turn the clock back - big mistake. Some are vanity vehicles. Others have specialised agendas; I approve. And all the time, mainstream media shrinks its offer, cuts costs and shuns local. The gap between large and small is now a chasm, a yawning gulf, financially and creatively.  

Can this gap be bridged? I'd like to think it can. And here's one way we might find out. Welcome to Birmingham and the world, Brum Radio. 

Mahalia. Four years of development, and she's still only seventeen. Crikey.

Ridiculously young and talented, with a major label deal... that might suggest you got it made. Great expectations then.

Four years ago, Mahalia played a Tea Room Tent debut slot at Moseley Folk. It was a gentle but excellent start, in front of some major Brum music faces. 

Four weeks ago, Mahalia made her BBC2 Later debut, fronting the irrepressible Rudimental. No build-up: the camera panned directly to her from Joan Armatrading. No pressure, then. To see how it went, scroll down for the video. Mahalia is still only 17. She is being guided by her parents, who were both active in the music business in the 80s, and have the scars to prove it. She already has a deal with a major: Asylum/Atlantic. This is not usually how things get done these days. Not anymore. But then again, Mahalia is unusual.

The Hound, the passing of time, and the cruelty of change.

Talking bout my radio generations. 

When I was 23, the radio station I worked for went to number one in its market for the first and only time. It was my first radio gig. The PD was ecstatic, and we were pretty damn pleased with ourselves. 

I was an English import on a US rock station, WPHD-FM in Buffalo, in upstate New York. My presence, or rather my accent, was a gimmick, but it was a realistic ploy for a station which played tons of British Rock. WPHD really was the call sign; we targeted the, er, college market. Our sudden and surprising ratings success was due to boomers adopting the newer, cleaner stereo FM frequency; that, and the station's decision to, finally, lean heavily on rock hits in its programming. But, looking back, the listener switch to FM – a tech issue, and I'll come back to that - was the major factor. That same switch took place a decade later in the UK.

The Hound

From Kevin Golsby's Flickr stream          

Across town, leading his own soul station, WBLK, was the veteran broadcaster George 'Hound Dog' Lorenz. George Lorenz had been a 50s north-eastern US radio superstar at the leading local Top 40 operation, WKBW. He got to be syndicated worldwide for a spell. He was the real deal. There's photos of him onstage with Elvis, Little Richard, Buddy Holly, Sam Cooke, Fats Domino, Jerry Lee... He discovered Wilson Pickett, for chrissakes - or so the legend goes. 

I loved George's vintage schtick. Lots of reverb, slick patter, cool name-checks, killer sense of rhythm and delivery, pacing, vocal range: he had the lot. It was super-classy stuff. Yes, it was dated, but it was still brilliant. George was there when rock and roll started. If you dig around on the web, you can find a bunch of clips to listen to. There's links to sites at the bottom of this post to get you started.

The radio-friendly news stand

I used to go downtown to the one news stand which stocked out of town papers. The vendor had a unique market: all the out of town radio guys who revolved in and out of gigs, from town to town. The life of a dj was - is - precarious: I would regularly meet guys at our sister Top 40 station who lived in caravan parks, trailing around the country from station to station. Mostly, they were divorced; you can understand why. Harry Chapin wrote about those guys. 

My downtown news stand man loved radio. I'd go down on a Wednesday to pick up an expensive UK Sunday Times and catch up on the football. And we'd talk radio. He used to listen to Twenty Questions, relayed on the local CBC station, booming into Buffalo from across the border in Toronto.

So, it's springtime, and my station of misfits, longhairs and hippies was number one in town. The news stand man asked me how my station was doing. Of course I went off on one about how we'd killed the opposition, quadrupled our numbers, all that. I gave it large, as we now say. I'd expected an interested reaction, but all I got was a non-committal 'is that so?' as he handed me my paper and sent me on my way.

I didn't get back downtown for a few weeks. But, soon after, George Lorenz passed away. The industry marked the passing of a legend; thirty years and more at the coalface.. 

When next I went to get my paper, the conversation went like this:

'I see your friend died.'

'Who? What friend?'

'The hound! George Lorenz.'

'I know! But I never met him. Wish I had, I loved his show.'

'Ah. Cos he was standing right behind you when you were saying how great your station was.' 

Oh, crap. 


I felt about two inches tall.

The cruelty of change

Tech changes everything in media. It always has. That brutal change was over 40 years ago. It did for a lot of old school US stations. Lots of stations folded, sold up, or flipped to cheaper formats like talk, once FM got to be the big deal. Later, much later, came networking and station clusters.  

I'm lucky – I'm not not a George: I don't own a station where time has moved on; I'm not suffering because massive changes have overwhelmed my industry and my business. The pace of change has accelerated since those days; it's given me new tools which I rather enjoy. But now, it's even more brutal, and it still doesn't take any prisoners. And, always, the changes come garlanded with brash new generation spokesmen who are happy to lay down the law to you and me about the new rules - rules which sad old fossils like us can hardly be expected to understand. 

I can guess how George Lorenz must have felt, listening to some Brit hippy kid, still wet behind the ears. A kid, moreover, who was banging on about his industry: Rock and Roll radio, the one he'd spent his whole life in, the one he had helped create. 

It really wasn't WPHD's brilliance that hit George's operation hard. Truth be told, we were barely competent; we had some classic stoner jocks who would put on the longest tracks they could find, because they were lazy bastards. We just got lucky when we got our five minutes in the sun; it could have been anybody. And the station lost its market-busting share as soon as savvier operators cottoned on to what we had been doing. No, the damage was inflicted by two big changes: demographics and technology. New audiences, new generations, and new methods of delivery. 

Hey, where did my audience go?

That change is still going on now. FM is old hat. New music doesn't reach us on the radio so much, if at all, and each new generation grabs the new tech and sweeps effortlessly forward with it. When radio was able to embrace the new tech, that tech served it well. But now? 

Tech has evolved to fit what management wants – radio now has tools like like hyper-speedy research systems to let them get closer to their audiences. I'm not sure they're being used right, but I'm not pushing those buttons. 

And, just as it did over 40 years ago, tech has also taken an entire generation of listeners and shifted its perspective. That is a big, big problem for radio. If people grow up without getting into the habit of listening to the radio, what can radio to to stem this flow? I'd love to hear some ideas.

Young listeners....?

Here's an example. I'm working with some very smart young people on a string of radio projects: scripting, editing, voicing, music selection to meet editorial priorities, debates, interview techniques, talking to time, reaching new audiences. These are all skills that could be useful in a number of fields besides radio. We're having fun, and there is some talent to work on. 

But none of those smart young people listen to the radio – unless they're in a car with their parents. Then, it's Radio 2 or Radio 4. 

Why? Because they have their own things; they don't need old stuff. My generation had FM stereo; these kids have smartphones, gaming and torrent sites. It's the same process that ultimately took audiences away from George; just different gewgaws and baubles to entice fickle customers. Easier access, right for the new breed, a universe away from the old. 

Things get old fast at Radio, especially when owners panic over shifting markets. Consider the speed with which formats change. And consider, too, how BBC Radio 1 switches and ditches, faster and faster, in an attempt to hold on to its increasingly vaporous audience. 

Reasons to be cheerful

The cruelty of change won't stop hitting, of course. It's already changed today's radio far more than ever it did George's. I'd love to think Radio could survive and prosper, and I actually think it will. After all, one of the strongest human instincts is to communicate, person to person. Radio can meet that need better than almost any other medium. 

Well, it can, when it is allowed to. I look forward to changes in technology which will enhance communication, not drown it in a welter of chatter. That may well happen, surprisingly, with podcasts and mould-breaking new independent works which are at last getting some traction. 

In the meantime, here's an affectionate and rueful tip of the hat to George Lorenz. I loved the pictures he painted, and it was a privilege to have been able to listen to him. 

I just wish that damn news stand man had introduced me... 


Links:
George Hound Dog Lorenz tribute site. Packed with audio clips.
Forgotten Buffalo's George Lorenz section: more clips and YouTube videos

See further in memoriam posts on Radio To Go

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5 lessons learned this year: Musos are more interesting than Jocks...

Do it for the love of it. You won't let anyone down, even if you get let down.

As last year, here's five lessons I learned in 2013. But before I get to those, a word about this blog. 

I am really, really happy, to report that Radio To Go’s readership has grown quite nicely: from ten thousand total page views at 2011 year-end, it chalked up forty thousand total views a year later. And now, it's over one hundred and twenty seven thousand. 

That's more than trebling total views two years in a row. Thank you! Bashing out 1500 words each week is a great discipline. Recently I’ve tried out tiny one-topic midweek posts too. They are easier to spark debate with, because they are one-topic issues. 

So that's the good news. After the jump, here's five things I learned - or maybe finally admitted  to myself - in writing this blog this year.

Sofar Birmingham: Songs from a Birmingham Room with Cannon Street

Pop-up gigs in strange spaces. Who's on? Don't know. Take a sense of adventure with you

There's a great story in here, about doing the right thing. The story takes in a folk festival, sharp idealistic new talent, several up and coming folk bands, putting it out there and getting something back, some very solid principles - like showing some respect and really listening to performers - and a lot of people who just do what should be done. 

I love watching new talent emerge. There’s a buzz to catching someone fresh and exciting for the first time. If they're good, you almost have to support them. Interestingly, there are a surprising number of people who feel the same way, and are dedicated to helping this process along: Paul Murphy’s wonderful Songwriters Café sessions, hopefully soon to return, Sophie Handy’s Muzikstan and Tom Martin’s Tower of Song are three West Midlands examples; there are many more.

That great story? You may have heard of Cannon Street: they are Nadi and Rukaiayah Qazi. If you haven’t listened to them yet, you should, so there’s a couple of Soundcloud links further down this post.

Cannon Street on the Moseley Folk Lunar Stage, 2013

Cannon Street are enthusiastic and inventive. They write lovely songs, pick interesting covers, and deliver all of this with charm and passion. I did a tiny piece about them in this blog post, after their debut last summer at Moseley Folk.

And here's the really great bit of that great story: Two years ago, they volunteered at the festival: you do two shifts and catch the rest of the festival for free; maybe you do a bit of schmoozing and networking. Oxford’s Stornoway were a main attraction. Radio 2’s Janice Long, as usual, was compering, and listening out for new talent, as she always does. 

Nadi: 2011 was the year we volunteered! We got talking to Janice Long who very kindly introduced us to Stornoway after we told her we were big fans and that we sang a cover of one of their songs... We then found ourselves singing it to them backstage in their dressing room tent! Pretty surreal really! Stornoway have kept in touch ever since – Ollie (Steadman) has been an amazing supporter. 

You never know wno's listening. You never know who will react to what you put out. One thing leads to another. 

Sofar Sao Paulo: pic from Madman.com.br blog

It turns out that Ollie Steadman is the Oxford organiser for Sofar Sounds. Sofar? It stands for Songs From A Room. It is grassroots music making, co-ordinated globally through a pretty slick website. Organisers put on ‘secret’ gigs in living rooms worldwide. These are then shared and streamed to music-lovers on the web. If you sign up for a gig, you won’t know who is playing, or where the gig is – just the date. The rest is revealed when you get there. So you’re trusting the organisers. You might think it’s an iffy proposition, but it’s not. Paul Murphy works the same way, and the Songwriters Café never lets you down.

Nadi: We were asked to play at the first Oxford Sofar – our first or second ever gig. Ollie Steadman runs it in Oxford. So then we volunteered to do one in Birmingham. We hosted it in our living room. Four bands – ourselves, Goodnight Lenin, Count Drachma (Ollie Steadmans’ side project) and To Kill A King. It was lovely. From there, Sofar asked us to carry on… 

We host secret events in popup gigs – unusual spaces, different venues. They’re really small, intimate events. We have three to five artists at each event. Everyone plays unplugged. Percussion is stripped back – brushes or muted with cloth, and minimal amplification – maybe just a bass amp. So bands can play. The idea is that you attend the whole gig. You sit on a sofa, or on the floor. 

So this is small-scale – thirty to forty people? 

If it’s a living room, which it often is, that’s right. 

That implies some serious thinking going on here about how performers and audiences can interreact. When it’s that intimate, you can get some special moments. 

It can be incredible – just that moment where you’re captivated by what’s going on in front of you. There can be a really broad mix. 

How do you pick the artists who appear? It must be very tricky to decide who’s going to play. 

It is. It’s our role to book artists. We also have a team of film makers and engineers who shoot and stream the events. We can see who is playing at other events, and request them to come and play at ours. We contact artists directly, and artists also get in touch online, offering to play. There is a waiting list. We slot them in where we think it the best fit for a really nice mix. 

In Berlin, from the Sofar Sounds Berlin Facebook page

Nadi, this is secret, but it’s not that secret, or we wouldn’t be talking. How do people hear about your gigs? How do they get in touch? 

We have a mailing list. If you check out our videos online, or our Soundcloud, there are links allowing you to subscribe. Or you can go to the Sofar website and subscribe. Then you are notified about the events that take place close to you. The location is revealed only the night before the event. 

You’re asking for a commitment, aren’t you? 

Yes, We want the best possible audience for the artist. We ask that people don’t talk during the performances unless they’re singing along, and that they don’t use their phones unless it’s to talk on Twitter, or Facebook, about what’s going on. 

I like that. You’re using all the trappings of 21^st century social media to go back to the very essence of live performance. Lots of work though? 

Yes, but it’s worth it when you see the event take place. I think I’m quite spoiled now. 

If you dig around the Sofar website, it’s clear that a lot of time has gone into developing the concept so it can seed itself in new cities. The trick is always going to be to allow enough local autonomy to encourage grassroots growth, harnessing local idealism and savvy to a solid support and advice network. Nadi and Rukaiya have leant heavily on this support. 

Now tell me about your own music operation… How are you guys doing? 

We’re working on our first EP. We’re always exploring. We’re working out how we’re going to progress form being an acoustic act – two voices, one guitar - to having other instruments and extra musicians. Rukaiyah bought a really cool electric guitar the other day! We’ll be doing a video soon. We’re shooting next week, but I don’t know when that will be ready. 

I’ll stick it up on this blog post when it’s done...

I told you it was a great story. It touches on so many of the right things. I’m interested in the relationship between the audience and the song or the performer. You’re a performer, sending some ideas out. Who’s listening? Who’s reacting? Is anything getting in the way?

Pop and corporate mega acts can be fun, but that stuff doesn’t feed your soul. And it can not, ever, compare with the conversation that goes on when a person steps up and sings and plays, to you, live. When you’re ten feet away from a performer with something to say, it’s rare and special. It takes more than performance magic to make that happen. It takes a framework and an attitude – respect for performers and a welcoming open mind to listen with. I salute the people who make this happen. 

Links:
Cannon Street
Sofar Sounds

See also
Six acts latecomers missed at Moseley Folk 2013 

Tom Martin and the Tower of Song
Songwriters Cafe 2012: feeding the five hundred

More music and venues posts on Radio To Go

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A new music team programmes at Town Hall and Symphony Hall

Before we get to the core of this post... what exactly does the word festival actually mean? 

Artwork courtesy Sound Lounge 21

The ones that get the coverage are full-on affairs featuring tents, endless mud and excess, often with clear intent to relieve you of as much money as possible. But there are also benevolent and idealistic affairs that stretch the imagination, not expressly commercially driven, like Shambala. Then there are the (relatively) sedate non-residential affairs like Moseley Folk or Reggae City. And that’s not counting classical institutions like Three Choirs or Lichfield.

So, a wide range of definitions. But all of them ask you to pay to get in. When you look at free festivals, it’s different rules. Summer freebies covered on this blog (Simmer Down and Ben Drummond’s Sutton Roots festival) are driven differently. Music and doing something good and right go together much more obviously. What the ‘good and right’ might be varies enormously.

That’s what makes this coming weekend’s Sound Lounge 21 Summer Music Festival really rather interesting. It’s not just the music, appetising is it is; it’s also how the thing came together, and why.

Tom Martin: letting music breathe at the Tower of Song

A tiny venue in a south Birmingham suburb that does right by its musicians.

Last week’s post on crowd etiquette and the need to keep schtum and give some space for performers kicked up a nice ruckus - you can follow some of what happened in the comments section for that post; Facebook and Twitter also saw action. 

Understandably, most people agreed with me. But some said musicians need to be able to command the stage, and if they do, the audience will play along and make nice. And that’s not a bad point either. However, that only works if you’re that kind of battle-hardened musician. The big question then is: how do you get to that stage in you career? And do you even want to? Some people are all about the song and the music. And everyone has to start somewhere. 

One of the musicians I cited last week holds passionately that musicians need the chance to develop their craft on a live stage, and that the audience absolutely must play its part too.