On July 9, 1996, I was just a community college student with a wacky dream. I was finishing up my A. A. (focused on music composition and music technology) and having to decide between transferring to University for an advanced music degree, which would inevitably lead me to a long career in academics or at best, guitar performance. Or, I could chose Door #2, which held my lifelong goal: become a pocket-sized entertainment mogul, tying together all of my musical loves into one giant ball of love.
So that day, I packed up my brightly colored folders full of everything pertinent, headed down to the courthouse, and got myself a business license. Serious Vanity Music was born! Education, be damned!
In a weird way, I hold Steve Vai responsible. Even though I’d long planned my record label, drawing album covers, writing mock music articles, and making cassette tapes full of songs as early as age 6 or so (and I really can’t remember not ever thinking about it, or having it in my awareness), I didn’t really know that Joe Schmoes like me had the ability to just go out and start our own businesses. But in an issue of Guitar magazine around 1989, when I was about 15 or 16, Steve talked about how he started his label to release his first album, Flex-Able. I knew then that this day would come for me. The seed of possibility had taken root.
And indeed, my original idea was that this too would be a true vanity label, where I would just release my little four-track recordings over this new thing called the World Wide Web, or use places like Discmakers to produce short runs of tapes or CDs that I could sell in mom-and-pop shops. I could record my pop songs, my guitar instrumentals, and my ambient new age MIDI creations (it’s the 90’s here–cut me some slack!) in my spare room studio and find the audience that was hungry for them, whether it was off of a website, through mail order, or out of the back of my Chevy Nova. All of these things were happening around me, and I was ready to be part of them!
I kept at my studies and kept recording in my room, doing a little copyist work on the side. But one day, a weird opportunity came along. I’ve never hidden that my guilty pleasure always has been, and always will be, my love of all things Duran Duran. I heard “Hungry Like the Wolf” as a tot and I was hooked! I had joined several internet groups for the band, and some of the other fan musicians had started talking about doing a tribute album in response to the one put out by Mojo Records in 1997. After back and forth emails for a few months, talks just stopped dead in the water.
But this was too good of an idea to let go, and the demand was there. Again, the seed had taken root! But was I ready to take this on? To become a real record label, and release a compilation? It was a huge undertaking for just one person, much bigger in the end than I ever anticipated (it’s good you find these things out at the end, or you wouldn’t do them!). But I was more excited by the idea than scared, so I ran with it!
This is how Glue: A Tribute to the Music of Duran Duran was born. It got me my first mention on MTV, broke sales records back in the day its first week at CD Baby (when there were only about 1800 other indie artists there–can you imagine that now?), got a great mention in Pollstar, and put me on the map! It also benefited RAINN, which was probably my best decision for the whole project. It set the standard that every release needed to be filled with gratitude and giving back.
Over the next few years I would take several different turns with Serious Vanity Music, with an array of outcomes across the success spectrum, but learning at every point:
*I joined a band called Spy Matthews and saw a lot of the country thanks to the promo tour we embarked on. I learned what my limitations were both personally, and alcoholically.
*I produced a bigger CD project in Bangs…Sounds of the 80’s than I knew I could handle, and in the process got to meet some of the most amazing independent artists (many of whom I still stay in touch with and have watched become even more amazing) and some of my musical heroes from childhood and beyond. I also learned because of this that I could share my responsibilities with a partner in my co-producer Paul Clark.
*I’ve learned more about licensing music from those covers projects than I ever dreamed I would and never realized at the time how much that would play into my future.
*I did the local/regional scene band thing with Ready and learned how important chops were on stage, really finding myself as a player and a showman (er, showgirl? That doesn’t sound right…) in those moments that I will never forget. I gained the confidence to go after the biggest show I’ve ever played with Post Orgasmic Trauma opening for Cheap Trick at a venue where I attended my first ‘big concert’ at 13.
*In transitioning Serious Vanity Music from a just label into a production studio too, I’ve realized in the satisfaction of others with my work for them just how capable I am, how talented I am, and how much heart I can put into what I am really passionate about.
We survived the mp3 revolution, the creation of “indie” as a genre, and the fall of the American economy. I don’t know how, but we did. I don’t take for granted the fact that many didn’t.
This past week, we launched the beta version of what is the culmination of all of the work we’ve ever done: our catalog for licensing. It combines the Serious Vanity Records music with the skills and marketing of the Serious Vanity Music studio to reach all walks of clients needing to reach all kinds of music lovers.
Around the corner we’ve got new merchandise like skateboards and clothing that will be reaching the masses before the end of summer, and the makings of a great network for both musicians and music lovers to connect, collaborate, or just be. It’s the interdependent record label of the future.
Truly, the dream of this little girl is well on its way to being recognized–and then some.
I won’t lie to you–it hasn’t been all fun and games along the way. Bands broke up, reviews weren’t always glowing, shows were hit and miss, strings broke, bottom lines went below the bottom. But that’s not just part of business…it’s part of life. Along the way there’s also been magic, education (that doesn’t get you a degree but certainly earns you karma points), and the construction of a will that no test can move. It’s bigger than I am.
And truly that’s what Serious Vanity Music is to me: a much larger representation of my life, my essence on this planet. Some people mark their milestones with the time-lines of their children, or the turning of certain ages, or reaching certain accomplishments. Mine are spelled out in blood, sweat, and mp3s. This is my passion, and what I feel I have to do. It more than gets me out of bed–it pumps the blood through my veins.
I have several people to thank, but first on the list is You. You’ve not only gotten through this tome, but you’ve been the reason I’ve done this that I never planned on. Making music was always about me. But You are the critical factor in the equation. Without the people who love it, or even the people who hate it, it just is. But You give it a place in your life that validates it. It connects us. It brings something untouchable into existence. I thank you. I thank you. I thank you.
To all of you who are our ‘family’, not always by blood, but always by love: You’ve been there in the moments of bleakness. You’ve coached us through the rough innings and been the first on the field with champagne for our victories. You’ve given us meals when we were literally starving artists. You’ve defended our honor against the wrath of haters and pencil-breakers, and made us laugh about it later. I thank you. I thank you. I thank you.
To all of our clients (you fit above, too, y’know) and colleagues who set the bar so high for us to meet, who took what we did and ran with it toward their own home bases, and who in so many ways built me at my core. I thank you. I thank you. I thank you.
To all of my heroes who I’ll only meet in my ‘virtual mastermind’ sessions (you know who you are, Frank Zappa). What can I say? When a little girl needs a role model, the best place to look is Joe’s Garage. At least that’s what I discovered. I thank you. I thank you. I thank you.
To my beautiful teachers, from kindergarten through college, most specifically Nancy Cohu, Betsy Lundberg, Nancy Mathers, Pegi Fields, and Dr. Connie Mayfield, who gave me the chops and the belief in myself. I have to give special mention to Norma Crawford here, because, and I don’t knock the others by saying this, but this woman very literally kept me from being a very bad statistic at age 14. She made the difference in me having a future at all, and I will be forever grateful that you taught me not only to value myself, but to know truly and deeply how much power I have in being able to hold eye contact when I meet both friend and foe at the gate. You made the difference, Ms. Crawford. If everyone had a Norma Crawford, the world would be a different place. It is my goal to make that happen. I thank you. I thank you. I thank you.
To the magazines, e-zines, and websites that called me a writer and allowed me to share my observations along the way, you gave me accountability, and taught me how to lead. I learned more about my own thoughts, fears, and abilities from those pages than I would have in therapy. I thank you. I thank you. I thank you.
To my tiny ‘co-producers’ over the years, who have sat by my side during those late night recording sessions, being the perfect set of ears to both my music and my perils. Bonnie, Angel, Sis, Chelsea, Aug, Joe, and especially you, Heidi…your energy still floats around this place, and I am so glad to have captured the occasional bark or meow during the session that seemed like such a pain at the time, but now is such a gift. I thank you. I thank you. I thank you.
To my dad, who gave me the love of music in the first place, and still does his best to foster my creativity and remind me to ‘put spirit first’. I thank you. I thank you. I thank you.
To the man who changed “me” to “we” at Serious Vanity Music, Paul Clark. You’ve taught me compromise, and at the same time expanded my thinking, my capabilities, and my dreams. How is that even possible? You must be from outer space. I thank you. I thank you. I thank you.
And to Music itself, the reason I breathe, I finally end this with a few words I penned while watching the Michael Jackson memorial. I was overwhelmed by the outpouring of love that stretched beyond economic status, geographic location, religion, or creed. Sometimes I really do wonder why I do this. I wonder if anyone cares but me. But at that moment, I got my ‘big why’. I thank you. I thank you. I thank you.
What Would You Do? by Dana Detrick
(copyright 2009 Serious Vanity Music. Don’t use with permission yadda yadda you know the drill!)
What would you do
If music asked you to
Sell your possessions
Submit your confessions
Bleed out blood red
Or be its servant instead?
Succumb to the judgment
Of those who can’t see
Or hear or understand
Every note’s legacy?
Will chords strike the fire
That will rise from your chest
Burn up your bones
And forge gold from the rest?
If you cannot say
This is what you would do
These words seem too foreign
It’s “just not for you”
If you couldn’t fill
It’s simple request
It’s not that you’re weak–
You’re just one of the rest.
But for the few of us
Who can do what it asks
We get the privilege
Of its merciless tasks.
Our heart is ripped out
And daily we cry
Fall over the edge
Where our tragedies lie.
If we just march this path
If we see our tests through
We find out in the end
That Music, too
Will do
Whatever
We ask it
To do.
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