etgS6_rbo1I]<\/p>\n
Townsman Al<\/strong> came across a couple of posts on musician Robbie Fulks<\/strong>‘ website<\/a> that got him thinking…and got him thinking it was time to call on his fellow Townspeople to help him work through some feelings. He asked that I post some excerpts from Fulks’ posts and open the floor for discussion. Take it away, Al!<\/em><\/p>\n I came across the following two posts by Robbie Fulks on his website<\/a>. It’s Robbie ruminating on the relationship between artist and fan, and it struck me in several ways. Most obviously, and despite my best efforts, I saw myself in several of Fulks’ scathing anecdotes. And, unsurprisingly, I was insulted.<\/p>\n Here’s an excerpt from his first post, entitled dumb things to say to singers<\/em><\/a>:<\/p>\n It doesn’t seem too much, though, to expect some manners and social common sense, even from emotional people who have just been roiled by divine vibrations. My mom could hardly believe it when, one of the first times she helped me sell records at a show in Kentucky, a guy recited the last ten years of his personal story. He started in his adolescence and ended in graduate school, mentioning along the way his places of residence, college major and minor, romantic attachments, and shifting musical tastes. It took just over five minutes, and it seemed to be the price, imposed on me by him, of ongoing show attendance and CD purchases. “Why did that asshole think any of that was interesting to anyone?” said Mom, heated by outrage to a profane boil. I answered her honestly, “Some people think they know you very well, so it ‘s only equitable that you know them.”<\/p>\n The other week, a friendly, bright fellow who comes to see me play a lot bumped into me and right away started getting carried off by somber reflections on the course my career had taken over the last 15 years. “It’s always great to see you play,” he said, “but sometimes I feel bad about your audience. You’ve been at it so many years, you put out all this different music. And sometimes people like it, and your shows are packed. And then there are these other periods, when…” In his pause you could almost hear the ellipsis bumping brokenly off — Dot! Dot! Dot! “You are making me depressed,” I told him. I know he was trying to share some simple fellow feeling for what he took to be my Job-like woes, but it’s of no use to me hearing about problems that I’m in no particular position to affect, such as the starving infants of Africa or the turnout at my shows. I actually thought for a second of punching him.<\/p>\n One reason this comment gets on my nerves is that I’ve made it to others. I’m not sure why, but one has a need to acknowledge the unjust obscurity of others. One time I was doing a show with Marti Jones at the Bottom Line in New York. Boy, I wince just thinking about this. Excited to meet her, I pulled her into a private room backstage and just unloaded. “Your records are so good!” I gushed. “And not only good, but perfectly designed in style and production finesse to make you a worldwide superstar! Why didn’t this happen? It bothers me!” She was polite but didn’t fabricate a specific answer to my question. What in the world was I thinking?<\/p>\n Another time I heard the Dixie Chicks singing Darrell Scott’s song “Long Time Gone” on the radio. It sounded so very nice, and so very much like the New Grass Revival, that I immediately called New Grass’s bassist and lead singer, John Cowan, just called him right there from the car in the middle of Pennsylvania. “John!” I breathed. “The Dixie Chicks just sang this song, and it’s a hit for them, and it sounds exactly like you guys used to sound!” “Yes,” he said. “Well?” I retorted. “How does it strike you when someone takes a sound and style that you invented and struggled to achieve commercial recognition with, and sells millions of records with it, twenty years later?” A short silence ensued. “I guess I don’t feel that great about it,” he said at last, beaten. What in the world was I thinking? [More…]<\/a><\/em><\/p><\/blockquote>\n There’s a lot more in this post that I’m sure many of you will identify with, from whatever perspective you’ve had in this artist-fan dynamic. The weekend’s upon us; I encourage you to take some time in the coming days to read his post in whole. For now, if you’re itching to discuss, Fulks eventually comes to this conclusion:<\/p>\n But let’s not wallow in the bilious and toxic tidepools of negativity. Let’s turn the question around. What is<\/em> permissible to say to a singer after a show? Almost nothing, it turns out. I observed this after my friend Amy, a crazy-talented actress, said to me after watching me play in Brooklyn one night, “What was the name of that one song you did?”<\/p>\n “Amy!” I said, aghast. “You should know better than that — you’re a professional! That’s universal code for ‘I only liked one song’!”<\/p>\n “No, it isn’t,” she insisted. “I just liked that song so much, and I wanted to know the title — you gave it so much energy!”<\/p>\n “Amy!” Now I was close to tears. Evidently I lack the fortitude of Marti Jones and John Cowan (who has changed phone numbers since the year of the above anecdote and has, curiously, failed to give me his new one). Two velvet jabs and down I go, like Sonny Liston succumbing to Chuck Wepner. Like most singers, I am delicate to a fault. No compliment you can give me is so straightforward that I can’t give it some awful twist.<\/p>\n Almost no compliment. Last month, a musician approached me after a show in the north of Sweden. His face was grave and his words were soft. “That was nearly a religious experience,” he said. These words, nota bene, I can graciously accept.”\n<\/p><\/blockquote>\n A couple of weeks later, Fulks was back with a follow-up post, dumb things to say to singers, revisited<\/em><\/a>. In it he diagrams the “nearly impermeable boundary between performer and spectator.”<\/p>\n I — no Garbo or Dylan — am going to keep being very nice and polite to everyone, or at least to everyone who is polite to me. But that’s only because that’s who I am, for better or worse. I do think Greta Garbo was right, and I do think there’s a nearly impermeable boundary between performer and spectator. This is why I don’t relish meeting, often go out of my way not<\/em> to meet, artists I revere — what’s to say? [More…]<\/a><\/em><\/p><\/blockquote>\n What do you fans say? What do you musicians say? Are you on Robbie’s side? Or the fans? What does an artist owe a fan? What does a fan owe an artist?<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" etgS6_rbo1I] Townsman Al came across a couple of posts on musician Robbie Fulks‘ website that got him thinking…and got him thinking it was time to call on his fellow Townspeople to help him work through some feelings. He asked that I post some excerpts from Fulks’ posts and open the floor for discussion. 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