Canadian Music Spotlight: If You Don’t Die, Get Management. The modern artist-entrepreneur question

First of all, I’m deeply thankful for being able to be back at sharing with you all following the double-graft cardiac surgery I had to undergo in a life-threatening procedure this February. It’s been quite a challenging journey for me, a voyage that is far from being over as I’m actually writing this, but a second chance at life type of ride, turning every little instant or any uneventful sensation into something quite extraordinary. Sometimes, it takes an absolutely crazy turn of events to make you realize how fragile you are, how precious life is, and more importantly, just how privileged you are to be in a position where you can not only experience and explore the singular adventure that is your existence but to also do it based on your own core values, communing with the people you love the most in the world and defining it through the self-evolving parameters you may see fit. At least, it took that major wake-up call for me to truly wake up. It came in the form of having to sit down with my closest friends to explain that, while we had to envision the details for a world tour and a new record in 2023, I had to put my different businesses and ventures in order at the same time. In other words, I had to plan what was foreseen as the most purposeful and fulfilling endeavor since I decided to pursue a new solo creative muse while having to write an extensive will in case I would stay on the operating table. Talk about a complete emotional mess to be in and for your dear ones to cope with. “Oh, I can’t wait to tour Japan once again… well, if I don’t die.” It felt like being trapped in some sick Edgar Allan Poe dark humor story, only to find out that you are the perpetual punch line of its permanent loop of a joke. Oh well, thanks to the incredible job of my surgeons and the miracle of modern technology — spoiler alert —I survived. Barely, but still, here I am.

I guess the most terrible aspect of going through intense medical procedures is the emotional aspect that comes with post-surgery recovery. The first days following my week in the intensive care unit, I was incredibly confused and dangerously delusional, not only due to the strong medication I was on or all the machines I was still plugged into to avoid a total collapse of my body but because I was deprived of the complete control I had always perceived as a gift in my life. I kept on saying I would be back and running within 4, 8, 12, or 16 weeks, but the truth is I’m far from being ok after 6 months and won’t be for at least another 6 to 12 additional months. Friends and loved ones were extraordinarily supportive, but in my head, it spun like crazy and I don’t think I was seeing reality as I was supposed to see it. My agent, after I tried to convince her that I would be in top shape to headline all the summer festivals I was lined up to perform only a few months after surgery couldn’t believe the situation: “Alex! How come you are reaching out to me for your upcoming tour from the hospital? Get some rest, you fool!” My business partners, who came to visit me in the worst period of my hospitalization, were left speechless and terrifyingly concerned, when, unable to speak — that’s what happens when you’re intubated for 12 hours — I was mumbling, groaning, and growling some nonsense about keeping the studio dates as originally scheduled, even though it was unclear if I was suffering from vocal cords damage and would be able to talk again by that time. As much as I would like to blame the meds, most of that gibberish came as a reflection of what it means to be an artist-entrepreneur; the isolation, the lack of peer support system, the very limited access to mentors or anyone who walked that unique trail before you… All of this, along with the inefficient structure offering mental accompaniment and financial alternatives to explore while you can’t provide for your needs, is greatly disorienting and just as eye-opening…

I never longed for any sort of management after I welcomed a wolf in my otherwise pretty naive life 15 years ago. It lasted about 3 months and it took me years to cover the settlement of the bad deal I was initially so happy to sign after investing something like 200 dollars (that I had to borrow), in a lawyer friend for him to look into all the details of said contract. Well, we all missed a few words here and there, I suppose. That horrifying experience, also known as the music business rite of passage, ended up defining the DIY model that I had to adopt soon after I decided I wouldn’t let that nightmare blow up my dreams. Very difficult years went by, and determination, hard work, and resilience became the foundation of what I had the opportunity to build with my friends. I made unbelievable mistakes and lost more than I ever thought I could make by following both my artistic and entrepreneurial instincts. It paid off, but the price to pay takes a significant toll on whatever may stand beside anything “career/visions/ambitions/goals” you might have. I wasn’t able to hide that reality at some point and I can say now that it precipitated the end of my previous band, Your Favorite Enemies. No matter how successful we were in terms of our collective achievement at that point, the massive workload that comes with self-managing an international band on the rise wasn’t possible, at least not the way we were doing it. It was a community-driven decisional operation that was essentially cared for by my partner in crime Jeff (multi-instrumentalist for my backup band The Long Shadows) and myself alone. Fast forward 5 years after my break from Your Favorite Enemies, and we now have a hotel in Tangier that is about to be extended, a vinyl pressing plant set to be operational this September, studio facilities and a merch company to look after, and 2 heads managing a permanent team of 15, extending to a total of 45 depending on the projects involved. No need to say that I didn’t have the organizational flexibility to die or to be grounded for a year. It was quite a reality check for me and even more so for Jeff who was the designated survivor having to stand strong at the forefront of everything we had given life to over the years. He did magnificently, but changes needed to take place, and major ones at that.

Therefore I started to explore the idea of having management. People around me freaked out. It was like the cardinal sin from the ultimate DIY advocate. I had all reactions, from: “Don’t tell me you will sell your soul to the machine,” to “Would you see Fugazi do a world tour financed by a beer company?”, “Take a rest, you are flipping over your head right now”, and “You ground your way up only to capitulate when you are finally making of name for yourself”, “How would you explain that nonsense of yours to anyone you have inspired to build their career on their own ground”, or, my personal favorite, “You’ll become the poster boy of everything sell-out”. I felt empowered and welcomed… not. But it led me to reach outside of my usual sphere of influence, which allowed me to have a clear and honest opinion of artists in all kinds of organizational scenarios. The testimonies were as diverse as they were stupefying, some inspiring, funny, others disastrous or even criminal, but all educational, especially when one of my friends sent me his take on the different types of management there are. 10, according to him…

1. The Boss: “Let me show you how we’ll do it together. You don’t have to know everything, just trust me, it will be fine. I’ll add the numbers after you signed.”

2. The Life Coach: “I don’t know anything about managing your other businesses, but trust my heart, it will be worth my points in ALL your other things.”

3. The Accountant: “Look, it’s all about numbers, and numbers are complicated, so do your thing and I’ll do mine. Deal!?!”

4. The Well-Intentioned Friend: “Dude, I’ve been to all your shows, I’m your number 1 fan! Of course, I will look after you! Now, let’s party!”

5. The Buzz Seeker: “I have signed all the 5,000 bands Pitchfork mentioned to look into at the SXSW last year. I’m a sure bet, dear band #7896.”  

6. The Artist-Turned-Manager: “I’m not only managing you, I’m writing your songs, I’m in your videos, I’m chatting with your fans. In a way, I’m you.

7. The Bitter Bitch: “CDs don’t sell like before, tickets don’t sell like before, record deals are worst than before, YouTube killed MTV, have a plan B.” 

8. The Legend Nobody Knows: “I make one call to some big guy I know and your life will change forever… I only need 25$ and a payphone, ready. 

9. The Magic Worshiper: “A famous philosopher said: “Build it and they’ll pay for it… eventually”, It’s in you, man, your aura screams superstar. Now smoke that funky pipe with me.”
10. The Crook AKA the A**h*le: … Sorry, I don’t think I can reproduce the description my friend gave me.

It was obviously caricatural, but his advice at the end of the enumeration was thoughtful and real: “If you want a manager, Alex, you first need to be honest with yourself and determine the reasons you want to go that route in the first place. It doesn’t matter if you are starting a band, if you are mid-way to your objectives, or a superstar, it all starts with accessing your motivation beneath it, and it implies looking at yourself, to identify where you are in your career, where you want to go, and, most importantly, what type of person or organization you picture yourself being happy with, win or lose. If it’s about money, fame, pleasure, or not having to do anything but art or anything at all… The more sincere you are, the more likely you’ll know if you need or want a manager or not, and what kind to look for. There are brilliant, decent, and amazing people out there. You will avoid my top 10 only if you’re real. Start there. There’s no right or wrong, no good or bad answer. It’s your life, and spare me the DIY bull, would you? I don’t think that your friends who are art-devoted work as much as you do. It’s not like you are Ian MacKaye, anyway, so don’t drink too much of that “righteous” Kool-aid. It doesn’t mean you’ll turn into an omnipresence like Dave Grohl either. So do me a favor, do it for yourself, and enjoy the ride. You won’t cure cancer, just don’t become another one.”
      
Hopefully, the “be real” process had been on for a while, maybe even longer than I had thought. Was I waiting for others’ approbation, for the courage to do so, or did I simply keep on pushing back the inevitable until it was indeed impossible to delay my decision any longer? Probably all of the above and more inner-shenanigans as well. The whole situation was simpler than it looked, I suppose. I wanted a real advisor (I had several in the past, but when they’re on your payroll, they tend to lean towards the direction you want to go, mine did anyway), someone that had enough character to headstrong me when need be, a mentor, a trustworthy person. Those were the general elements. The honest answer was more that I wanted someone who shared the same human and community values, someone who valued art not its profits, someone with whom I could talk about life besides its bottom line, someone who cared enough about me and what I do to speak out when I lose myself, not only when needs be, someone with compassion and heart. I didn’t need someone to remind me to behave or to put pants on in public. I was looking for an ally, someone inspiring in their own way, a person I would be proud to call my friend and honored to partner with. I knew my list was odd and not business oriented, but I shared it all with Jeff, who had the mandate to approach some potential managers or to be the liaison between me and anyone interested. I wanted the process to be respectful for every party involved. It wasn’t a bidding contest, I’m not that precious. So Jeff had the ungrateful task to identify anyone aligned with my description and to organize meetings with any of them later. The good thing was that I wasn’t in any rush. I had only been released from the hospital and trying to eat Jell-O was my sole daily activity. My situation was a blessing in disguise in many ways, because, would I have not been grounded like I was, I don’t think I would have found the family I eventually found and recently joined.  

I think a lot of the first questions I had to answer with every meeting circled around “Why? Why now? Why me? And are you ok?” Jeff did a tremendous job, as the shortlist he established allowed me to meet exceptional individuals, all of them different in their essence, while exactly what I was looking for by nature. To be honest, I didn’t think it would be that hard to decide. I learned a whole lot by listening to them, by getting to know their visions, their passions, their ongoing goals, their life philosophies, their values, as much as getting to know their family, challenges, constant self-evaluation, adaptation, and reinvention. They were all profoundly humble, there was no bragging, no mention of their phenomenal achievements, just a genuine curiosity to know my perspective on the music business in general and on how they operate in particular. It was deeply educational for me, may it be from an entrepreneurial point of view, an artistic standpoint, or as an individual looking to constantly grow. I was amazed, yet indecisive… until Jeff called me from a music conference he was attending in New York, over the top enthusiastic about a meeting he just had with a management team, so much that he had to call me right away, which he never does, knowing I’m too inclined to a reactionary overflow of emotions. “Alex, brother, I found your managers!” It’s usually at that moment that my skeptical self takes over right before it gears into cynicism. I listened to his story and it was indeed mind-boggling. He sent me the website of the company, which made things even more puzzling. Even if all the artists displayed were successful, respected, and well-established, I wondered where my art would fit in the middle of a genre I didn’t know much about. Jeff told me to stop acting like all the elitists I don’t want to become like and that I had to meet them. I was in New York 2 weeks later, meeting Bill and Jennie McGathy, owners of In De Goot Entertainment. It changed my life.

I’m an avid baseball fan and adopted the misfit era of the San Francisco Giants ages ago after the Montreal Expos had left town. It turned out that the Giants were the team playing the Yankees for their opening weekend, and Bill and Jennie are massive Yankees fans, so our first date was at the Yankees stadium, of all places. The game was eventful, the Giants lost, but the synergy of those two was exceptional. I don’t think I ever met such a distinctive type of unit before. We shared about our life journey, baseball, dogs, music, social justice amongst so many other things… I couldn’t believe it. It led to a second rendezvous in a restaurant with the company’s president & managing director. We arrived at 6pm, talked until the place closed, and kept discussing outside until our rides showed up. We arranged a third meeting, this time at their office, so I could feel the vibe of their place, meet the whole team in place and get to know a little more of the company values. I was floored, not so much by all the achievement plates covering the walls, but by the atmosphere. It wasn’t a case of “look like it is cool here, we have a potential client coming in”, far from it. People were collaborating, challenging each other, acting like a unit rather than keeping their cards close to their chests. Bill explained that the foundation of the company was his family values, that everyone serves the artists as a team, and that it was a “one for all, all for one” kind of mantra, where individuals and their art always come first. I asked a ton of questions and the answers were generous and genuine. There was an obvious connection between everyone. Out of respect for everyone, I was clear about the process I was in, that I had already agreed to meet other management companies, that my “word” was the most precious currency I had, and wanted to honor my other engagements. But it was already clear to me… 

I went back to New York about 3 weeks after, as the president of A&R from the Nashville office specifically came to meet us. Again, human-driven individual, generous, thoughtful, and humble. He had the same DNA as everyone else I had met in the company. For that meeting, I wanted to commune my vision of the future, while allowing them to share theirs with me. If my worry was that I knew I would need a full year of recovery, meaning I would have to push back every engagement I had for 2023, I was reassured pretty quickly: for everyone present, the only focus was my recovery. We shook hands, hugged, and laughed. I had found my family and I knew I was home. We became naturally close, almost instantly. We traveled to the UK together to meet some of their team members based in London and met up on several other occasions. I realized, in the very short time between meeting them for the first time and writing those words, that it was a perfect match. We accomplished more in a month than I could have thought possible. When they showed a rare degree of kindness and benevolence when I told them that one of my dogs had been diagnosed with incurable and violent cancer, I found more comfort through them than with some of the people I have shared my life with for the last 15 to 20 years. That’s when I undoubtedly knew that it would be for the long run and it gave me the necessary security to carry out a much-needed structural reorganization of my businesses, which will allow me to prioritize art over administration, creativity over supervision. It will provide the proper conditions for me to evolve as an artist and to keep on transforming myself as an individual, which would have been impossible had I not found my people… 

In conclusion, I think that the key element when we entertain the question of management, at any point in our journey, doesn’t have anything to do with our ambitions, as legit and grandiose as they might be, but with who we are at that stage of our life. I laugh thinking about what I could have accomplished if I had met the In De Goot family 10 years ago, knowing I would have been unmanageable — I knew everything back in those days. But I wasn’t ready to trust, wasn’t in a place where I would commit to such an “intimate” type of relationship. Maybe experience gives me a different view on things, maybe knowing myself a little better helped me define what I was looking for… Maybe. But one thing for sure is that being willing to be honest with myself vividly exposed what I needed the most at this point in my voyage. I’m glad I didn’t miss the blessing I’m dwelling on right now. I have never been so happy at the prospect of sharing a percentage of my future earnings with anyone like I presently am. And to my hardcore DIY friends, I’m grateful I don’t have to live up to Ian MacKaye’s expectations no more. Can anyone do it, anyway? Being who I am, no matter how I could be perceived, is a gift I wish to everyone. That, and not having to survive on Jell-O and boost cans for 3 months. I guess digging into mentally and physically ill artist support options will be for another edition… Until then, be safe, and don’t hesitate to see a doctor on a regular basis, it saved my life!

Alex

PS: this column hasn’t been paid in full or in part by the corporation owning Jell-O. I’m not that much of a sell-out after all 😉