Olga Nunes is a singer and songwriter. Now that you're here, why don't you check out a music video of one of Olga's songs? It's here: A Dream of Gardens. (It has lyrics by Neil Gaiman. It was directed by Team Genius.) You can download this song for free over on the music page, along with 28 other songs, and Olga singing the xkcd boomdeyada song. Thanks for stopping by!
"...a remarkably sensual and soulful singer..."
- Abie Philbin Bowman, The Dubliner
Until about a year and a half ago, I used to run a music blog called the Fabulist. I actively pored through various outlets prowling for new music, including other blogs, radio, magazines, television, friends-- you name it. I was on the hunt.
When I stopped actively contributing to the blog, I turned my efforts elsewhere and my ravenous appetite for new music waned. And so did my up-to-the-minute awareness of where individuals hunt for new music now.
A friend of mine yesterday sent me to the HypeMachine popular list. I'm deeply familiar with the HypeMachine; I got in early on their blog lists with the Fabulist and emailed Anthony, one of the individuals at the helm, a fair bit back and forth in the beginning. The HypeMachine is a good snapshot of current popular music-- but it's a snapshot of a particular niche of music-lovers. And it's a far different snapshot than, say, the charts at Last.FM And different yet again from the charts on Spotify.
Each place you go hunting for music gives you a different overlay, a different niche audience of music-lovers. It used to be the case that most people got their music recommendations from a small number of sources: homogenized radio stations, MTV, a few major record labels.
Now, there are an infinite number of places to find channels of music distribution. Out of curiosity, I did a very informal, very unscientic survey of about twenty-seven people on Twitter, and asked: "How do you normally find out about new music? Also, if you normally find new music through blogs, what blogs do you read?"
Surprise: almost everyone named a completely different source for music discovery. There is no one place or one person.
Individuals-- either friend connections or trusted connections-- and "the internet" rank highest. But both of those categories are made up of very specific different details-- each person has a different friend they rely on, or a different trusted source. A different music blog they love or Twitter feed they follow.
Which is to say, we have all become hunters and gatherers of music.
I'm asking for selfish reasons. The back of my brain spends a lot of time whirring over music marketing: how to do it, where, what's most effective. Which mountain should you climb to the top of and what kind of bullhorn should you use?
After you have a shiny stack of hopefully good music in hand, there are an equally infinite number of marketing strategies as there are current music distribution channels. Everyone is guessing at the next move, and stacking up their chips accordingly on what is, effectively, a risky bet.
But: people are consuming more music than ever before. The music industry has gone through the equivalent of the Big Bang. And everyone has scattered to their own private corner of the universe, with their fractional piece of the music world.
What does that mean? Pay attention to everything? Pay attention to nothing, find your own corner of like-minded peers and drill down? Both? Neither?
Your guess is as good as mine.
Maybe the lesson here is to be flexible, adaptive, and not marry any one method. If most people find new music from their trusted connections and the internet-- which probably have a lot of overlap between them-- then the answer is to make good music, and trust that if you put it anywhere, then it should find its way into the hands of the people who will love it by word of mouth. Spreading your music across multiple sources just ups the chances it will get seen.
But ultimately: "The number one success-driving factor in your online exposure is NOT what station you broadcast on, but how strong your signal is." *
#whereifindnewmusic tweets
kylecassidy: @olganunes the "current music" tag on livejournal posts by people who seem cool. or i find cd's on the street.
klagor: @olganunes from @toosunnyouthere frequently (impeccable taste), artist/writer blogs, going to random shows, @fm949sd #twitterpoll
towelinmonk: @olganunes Historically either by listening to the radio (@phantom1052 , specifically) or via friends
tumblenc: @olganunes through friend recommendations, or from bands who go: "oh this is amazing! They toured with me!" and usually it's good ^^
vampandora: @olganunes in the last year or 2 it seems to be from @neilhimself or a degree removed! :)
MsRedPen: Music blogs are my primary source. --> RT @olganunes: How do you normally find out about new music? #twitterpoll
PenguinOfWar: @olganunes Browsing @Spotify. Discovered two bands this week.
DiabaLorena: @olganunes I download ALL free songs from Last.fm. If I listen to anything interesting,I look for further information about the artist.
klagor: @olganunes sometimes pitchfork, found AFP through Neil's blog,@sddialedin's blog's great, boing boing
thisfred: @olganunes: http://daytrotter.com, http://rcrdlbl.com, cmj new music monthly, paste magazine #whereifindnewmusic
thisfred: @olganunes: also I wrote a spider that keeps track of mp3 blogs for me so I don't have to: http://is.gd/cA64j (expand) #whereifindnewmusic
thisfred: @olganunes: oh, and the always excellent (but Dutch language only)http://3voor12.vpro.nl #whereifindnewmusic
jamesmcgraw: @olganunes #whereifindnewmusic is the internet, or by listening to what is playing in Yumchaa (lovely London tea shop)
Athenasbanquet: @olganunes Mostly Pandora, but Joss Whedon's shows are almost always good for a new band too.
lbc42a: @olganunes a lot I find music in commercials or movies and then research out from there. #whereifindnewmusic
dwneylonsr: @olganunes blogs, tweets, youtube, facebook and always the traditional "you've GOT to hear this!" :) #whereifindnewmusic
mollydot: @olganunes You & AFP thru NG's blog, tho Dolls on radio 1st. Boekbinder thru AFP. Emile Autumn on youtube. Florence & the Machine via friend
mollydot: @olganunes In summary, mostly through social media, whether via someone I know or not.
pcbeard: @olganunes Groove Salad.
everyueveryme: @olganunes Usually,via random links at HypeMachine & Last.FM.Also spying on other peoples' profiles at social networks#whereifindnewmusic
neilhimself: @olganunes from You.
herasings: @olganunes miss the fabulist... through friends, blogs and sometimes just walking by (love shazam for iphone) #whereifindnewmusic
herasings: @olganunes good for finding out what song that snippet in the ad/movie/random place is.. but mostly online stumblings..
Kambrieldesign: Often new bands will come to me for stagewear & I end up liking their music as much as they like my designs! @olganunes #whereifindnewmusic
skyekat: @olganunes Does the back matter in Phonogram count as "from a public individual whose taste you trust" or via comics? #whereifindnewmusic
LATACO: @olganunes going to shows, xmu radio, music blogs, Twitter
Nullh: @olganunes BBC Radio 6 Music! They've pointed me at some great stuff, most recently Josh Rouse. #whereifindnewmusic #save6music
musictwig: @olganunes Recs from friends mostly, also weekly free downloads from various websites #whereifindnewmusic http://www.manitobamusic.com/
FenGar: @olganunes Nobody's said "radio"? I don't often go looking for new music, so #whereifindnewmusic is usually movies and TV shows.
oneiromantics: @olganunes Used to find great stuff when I was a Sirius radio subscriber, mostly on XMU. These days, no car, no radio. #whereifindnewmusic
bobbikey: @olganunes college radio
Cillygrrl14: @olganunes band forums, supporting bands, facebook groups, YouTube, last fm categories, Twitter... & mix CDs & friends! #whereifindnewmusic
2009 was the year I fell off the face of the planet.
It started
somewhere in the detention room of London Heathrow airport, locked
inside with a crying teenager and a distraught Asian woman. I was
staring at a poster of a unicorn, and waiting.
"Miss Nunes?" The man with the moustache had come for me. He
gestured we sit at one of the long tables in the sterile, white room.
"We've weighed all the possibilities, and while you've done nothing
illegal we've elected not to allow you to enter into the United Kingdom
today. Would you prefer to take the next immediate flight back to the
United States? Otherwise you can take a flight in the morning, but
that means you'll have to sleep in our detention center, and I can't
assure you there will be beds, it's very crowded right now. Which of
those is better for you?" The man asked, consulting his paperwork.
"Excuse me.. wait. You're not letting me in the country?"
"No," the man said briskly.
"Isn't there some recourse? Why am I not being let in?"
You have no money, he said. You have no way to support yourself, he said.
"If you give me two seconds and a computer with internet, I can disprove that," I said.
"No, Miss, you have to understand, we've already made our decision--"
"Can
I go into London for tonight, at least, and you can keep my passport
and documents-- or is there some sort of tracking device, so you know
I'll come right back? Anything?"
"No."
I took a very long, very deep breath.
"We need you to make a decision now, Miss," he said. "I'd need to arrange flights, so this needs to be dealt with immediately."
"Can I-- can I have a moment?" I asked.
The man grumpily agreed, and said he'd be back in twenty minutes.
* * *
It had been a pretty good year so far.
January
1st, 2009 found me in a car driving into the sunrise somewhere in New
York City. Beth Hommel was at the wheel, Amanda Palmer was squeezed
into my lap, and the rest of the tiny car was filled to the brim with
suitcases and musical instruments. We were driving back from Amanda's
all night New Year's Eve gig, bleary-eyed and watching the city slowly
bathed in the first dawn of the year.
It had been an amazing night.
At midnight I had been
surrounded by a few friends and a hundred or so strangers at Amanda's
art loft party in Greenwich Village. We sat cross-legged on the
floor, writing down what we wanted to banish from the New Year on tiny
slips of paper. What did I want to let slip out the back door of 2008,
never to be seen or heard from again?
I took my scrap of paper, and scrawled the word "fear" on it in blue ink. I was done with that shit.
We
silently set our bits of paper on fire, passing candles around the
room. At the stroke of midnight, cheers rang out in the darkness of
the city, but we quietly continued our ritual, making sure every last
unwanted remnant of 2008 was put to ash.
Later, in a club elsewhere in the city, Beth grabbed my hand and
pulled me urgently backstage, past the security guards, looking as
though we were supposed to be there. We had no backstage passes to
flash at the guards but Beth blazed through with me anyway, radiating
authority. In moments she brought me onstage with the Danger Ensemble,
and we pantomimed being at a private party somewhere, watching Amanda
and Brian Viglione sing the first song of the night from chairs
onstage.
I was happy. I'd spent all of 2008 bouncing around Europe, and now
was in a new city surrounded by shining new faces, and ready to face a
new year.
In a couple of months, I'd get on a plane and go
back to London, ready to record an album and get back to seriously
making music.
There was only one problem.
London wasn't interested in having me.
* * *
Two
guards escorted me through the airport, having confiscated my passport
and any ID I had with me. They locked me behind bars in the back of a
van, and drove me directly to the plane on the tarmac, handing me and
my documents off to a stewardess who took me to my seat.
Fourteen hours later, I was at an all-night diner in Brooklyn, eating french fries with Beth.
"What are you going to do now?" She asked me.
I have no idea what I answered. I had no idea what to do next.
I had been in some variation of unofficial homelessness for a few
years now, so getting kicked back to another country with my suitcase
wasn't completely alarming. But the grand plan of returning to England
for the next six months to record and finish an album was a good one,
and making that happen now was a bit harder.
Thankfully, there was a Plan B.
* * *
My mother is
Spanish. All I had to do was claim Spanish citizenship, get an EU
passport, and the UK would gladly open their arms and their hearts and
-- most importantly-- their borders to little ole me.
Which couldn't take more than a few weeks on the outside.
Probably.
* * *
I
returned to South Florida to stay with my family, applied, and waited.
A few weeks passed and I bought a MIDI keyboard, so I could write some
music. I ate empanadas. I swam in the pool. I soaked in the fierce
sun, which London only dreams about.
And I waited.
I operated more or less in limbo. When
you're waiting for something, I guess, you don't launch into anything
full steam. You just wait.
I spent time with family. I saw a few friends. I wrote a handful of half-songs. Weeks passed.
And then months. The paperwork would arrive any day now, I was told.
I flew to Los Angeles, saw a few more friends, wrote a few more half-songs, and waited some more.
And then it was September.
The fuck? How did that happen? September?
My
Spanish citizenship documents finally arrived. Except now it was
September, and going back to London as winter began to set in wasn't
going to work.
* * *
A note: I deal notoriously badly with UK winters. I have the SADs.
Going back to London in time for winter would be like placing a curly-headed Olga frog into a pot of slow-boiling water.
* * *
So I went with Plan C.
I moved to San Francisco, like a migratory bird, waiting for the cold and snow and dark to subside in the United Kingdom.
And noticed, a little bewildered, that I had fallen off the face of the earth for most of 2009 and wasn't sure exactly how.
It's a really weird feeling, losing an entire year. (Where the
fuck did I put it? In the fridge? In the pocket of my other jacket?)
I had stopped calling friends-- except, of course, those I happened to be staying with. I had stopped finishing music.
Something about the nature of waiting had entered into the fabric
of how I dealt with time, and I began to put everything on hold.
* * *
I had done some things with 2009:
Saw my first musical on Broadway
Saw snow in New York And Central Park, skating in Rockefeller Center, Brooklyn Swam in the Pacific in the middle of winter Swam in the Atlantic in the middle of winter Went to the LA Coraline premiere Took a road trip to Portland
And Lucky Devil and Voodoo Donuts Got interviewed on Irish radio Almost fell off the side of a mountain while narrowly avoiding getting bitten by a rattlesnake Adventure week of learning French, doing yoga, and meditating every day
Went to a real speakeasy Got kicked out of Britain
And, most notably: did not finish a single song.
* * *
Damn.
* * *
I'm
not sure if there's a grand moral to this. I'm not sure if, in that
beautiful art loft in Greenwich village, I managed to burn away the
threads that kept me from fearlessness.
I have my suspicions I still have some work to do.
But there's an upside to what time seems to do, regardless of your opinion or thoughts on the matter.
It marches on.
* * *
December 31st, 2009 found me in an apartment in the Mission with two of my oldest friends.
We had no rituals. There were no crowds. We were all sick with
some sort of horrendous illness, and quarantined with several bottles
of Nyquil and some Mission burritos.
Mostly, we embarked on the grand adventure of sleeping.
At the stroke of midnight, cheers rang out in the darkness of the
city, while we were deliriously curled in our blankets and tissue paper.
Next door, a single voice began to sing Happy Birthday in Spanish.
And I decided, silently there in the dark, that I was done waiting.
Zoe passed away this morning. Neil blogs about it here.
A woman named Lisa emailed me yesterday. She told me, there's no such thing as "just a cat." That's like trying to quantify love. It can't be done.
And more or less, that's the upshot of all of this. Zoe was this small, furry beacon of love. And, regardless of the source, that love is immeasurable.
I was deeply glad to have seen her again, and to sleep curled next to her one last time.
If a friend of yours was dying, you would go to her side and be there for her...
...and your friend just happens to be a cat.
And he's right.
So I've been sitting with my friend all day, alternately petting her or watching as she politely and sluggishly walks a little distance away to throw up. She's been throwing up more and more frequently as the day goes on. I clean up after her, and then watch to see if she needs anything.
Lorraine came by this morning to administer a subcutaneous dose of fluids. She showed me where to inject the needle, and how much to give her, in case Zoe needed another shot in the night.
