As a child, I had three dreams.
The first was to be a writer. Nothing was more exciting to me than a blank composition notebook that I could fill with my imagination.
The second was to be a Power Ranger. As a 7-year-old, I truly thought that “the Pink Ranger” was a realistic answer to the question “What do you want to be when you grow up?”
But the third, least realistic dream was to be a singer.
Growing up, there was always music in my house. My dad is a musician—a brilliant singer, guitarist and pianist. When he sings, people are captivated.
When I sing, people just laugh.
Sadly, I did not inherit his talent. But rather than cursing my genetic bad luck, I spent my childhood in denial. I created “bands” with my cousin. I wrote “songs.” I gave “concerts” for my family. I even sang in chorus for six years in school.
No matter how much you love them or how hard you try, some things just don’t click. It took a long time for me to accept that if I ever went on American Idol, my audition would land in the “embarrassingly bad” pile. I just don’t have the gift, and no amount of voice lessons could ever change that.
Which is partly why I have so much respect and admiration for the musicians profiled in this issue. When I sat down to interview three of the artists from our cover story, I felt like I could’ve talked to them all day about music. Each of them faces an uphill battle as they try to translate their talent and passion for music into a living.
I was pretty surprised to hear that the guys from The Gillis Silo, who have played some major gigs alongside Aaron Lewis and the Florida Georgia Line, have rarely seen a paycheck for a performance. The band’s singer-songwriter Caleb Paul balances four jobs with touring, rehearsing and recording with the band. The band’s hope is to keep pushing until they get to that top-tier level and can finally make music a full-time job.
Part of that push is making the best music they can possibly make. By the time he presents a song to the band to consider recording, Paul has already written at least 10 other songs that he hasn’t shared with anyone because he thinks they aren’t up to par.
Matt Tortorich could probably relate. The DJ and producer, whose arms, neck and back are covered in tattoos, told me—half jokingly—that he got inked to force himself to avoid getting a “real job” and instead make his living off music. Tortorich is constantly in search of that hit that will allow him to relax about money for the next few decades.
Despite the financial struggles, musicians of all ages are eager to take the stage in Baton Rouge. The Gillis Silo guys, who are all in their late 20s and 30s, commented that by time most people are their age, they’re done with pursuing music. Though the quartet has more than 40 combined years of experience, they still see this as only just the beginning of their musical journey.
Folk singer Ben Bell, who’s 46, can’t imagine a future for himself that doesn’t involve playing live music. And then there are the talented guys and gals of Ship of Fools and Loudness War, all in their late teens and early 20s. The future looks bright for these young musicians.
Music is not an easy career path, but most musicians walk that road because they feel it’s what they were born to do. I will always be in awe of their gift, drive and willingness to sacrifice so much to create an art that makes our city—and the world—a better place.
