How I Monetised My Passion For Music

HOW I MONETISED MY PASSION FOR MUSIC

So, where do I start, or should I say when did my passion for playing music begin. It was certainly not through my enforced piano lessons as a child – an extra curriculum activity that I did not enjoy and in which I did not progress any further than a grade 3. As for the school recorder lessons, well, I suppose they were somewhat more bearable than mathematics classes. At fourteen I thought I might try some guitar lessons, and even to this day, much as I love Bob Dylan, I still absolutely hate 'Mr Tambourine Man' and 'Blowing in the Wind'. At sixteen I decided that my zeal was definitely directed towards art rather than music and as I fancied myself as pretty good at drawing and painting, I spent two years studying Graphic design at a college where my passion for that rapidly dwindled.

Fast forward ten years,with a husband and two children and living in beautiful rural Ireland, my main pleasure in life seemed to be cleaning and cooking vegetarian food, until one day, when on an extended visit back to England, I made some new friends. These people were parents just like me, but they had a hobby and a huge cellar which they had converted into a music room that anyone could go along and join in on the nightly jamming sessions that took place there.

At first I just listened, and then one evening, quietly at first, I found myself tinkling away on a spare piano keyboard that was sitting at the side of the room. What a revelation it was to discover that music, unencumbered by the need to read notation, was a complete joy that seemed to communicate not just with others but with the universe itself. From that day forth I was hooked and my passion became music as I started to discover other instruments and what they could do. I even, on occasion, became brave enough to pick up the guitar and attempt to sing; a recollection that has just reminded me to add 'No Woman No Cry' to the list of songs I do not like, as this was the one in particular that everyone used to play!

One evening I remember itching to join in with the music session that was taking place, but someone else had taken over the keyboard and there were no spare guitars, so, turning to one of my new friends I pointed at the brass coloured tube with the red plastic mouthpiece that was sitting next to her on the table.

“What is that?” I queried.

“It is an Irish tin whistle,” she replied.

“May I try it,” I asked tentatively.

And that was that, I instantly and absolutely fell in love with the expressiveness and range of sounds that such a simple little thing could make, and here is where, in retrospect my destiny was carved out, and where those early music lessons were to prove to be of some use after all.

Some months later, my husband Mick came home with purchases that he had bought from his favourite hobby of scouring junk shops for unusual items. Much to my interest he plonked a most peculiar looking musical instrument on the table. It had a long row of buttons on one side, bellows in the middle and a set of four further buttons on the other end.

“Look what I've found,” he said proudly, “my father used to play one of these.”

“But what is it?” I asked curiously.

“A melodeon - in perfect working order too.”

“Oh,” I said, “can I have a go on it?”

And that was it, the melodeon now belonged to me!

The next thing that Mick brought home was a saxophone, and I really loved that too, becoming reasonably good on it pretty quickly, but, it was always his, so when, some time later we split up, he kept it and for some reason I never bought another. I often wonder in what direction my music would have taken me if I had stayed with the saxophone, for the melodeon and tin whistle put me firmly in the field of Irish folk music which is where I have mostly stayed ever since. Over the years, I found that the more Irish songs and tunes I listened to, and the more I learnt about, not just Ireland's troubled history, but also its folklore, the more my passion for music was directed towards this genre anyway.

After our divorce in my mid twenties, I suddenly found myself to be a single parent of two young children and realised that I was going to have to find a way to make some extra money, for the maintenance I received was just not going to be enough. In those days there was no tax credit system, or financial help with childcare, so a part time job was not possible; the school days were too short and no one wanted to employ somebody who would have to take time off in the holidays or when their child was sick. This is when I decided to try and monetise the one thing I seemed to be any good at: My music.

Back in England, I had noticed that in the city where I was now living, a lot of people played their guitars and sung on the streets with cases or hats in front of them that passers by would throw their loose change into, so I started to look more closely at how they were doing and chatted to quite a few of them. I was a little bit worried that maybe they would be people with drug problems or that it would be illegal and I could be arrested, but was relieved to find that most were respectable, normal individuals who had just one thing in common: They were all passionate about their music.

Still, I prevaricated.

“What will people think of me?” The doubts rolled in thick and fast.

“I might get into trouble.”

Or even,

“I'm not good enough, people might laugh at me.”

But, Christmas was approaching, my children were excited, and I was dreading it, for I had no money - and they still believed in Santa: I had to do this. So, one morning after I had dropped them off at school, I went home, took out the old buggy from under the stairs, loaded my melodeon case and a fold up picnic stool onto it, put the tin whistle in my handbag and headed off for the city centre where I had seen the other people playing. I was in luck when I arrived, the prime subway spot was empty, so I self consciously started to unpack, wishing myself into invisibility against the wall, as a constant stream of early morning shoppers walked by.

“Ok, this is it,” I thought to myself as I finally sat on my stool with the melodeon on my lap and the case, open on the ground in front of me. I had never been so scared in my life as I was at that moment, but, with my head bowed and eyes tight shut, I played a few notes and then some more, expecting at any moment to hear laughter or worse, until suddenly, there was a small, barely perceptible thud in the case in front of me, followed by the metallic rattle of small coins knocking into each other, and as I dared to open my eyes - just a crack, I saw silver and copper change lying in a small pile in front of me. A middle aged woman paused as she shut her purse and turned to smile at me.

“That sounds lovely my dear,” she said, “so jolly, you've cheered my morning up already.”

And I watched in amazement, relief, and with the stirrings of pride as I watched her skip along the subway in time to the tune I was playing. I sat up straight; eyes open.

“I am now officially a busker,” I thought to myself, and as I looked at the steadily increasing pile of loose change in front of me, I felt so happy that now it looked as if I could afford Christmas after all.

This monetisation of my passion, apart from bringing me a better income, also brought myself and the children the ability to go on small holidays in the summer. Usually only to stay with friends in different parts of the country, but the chance to go to beaches and on lovely picnics and countryside walks. Now it did not matter so much if I spent a large proportion of our weekly housekeeping on a train or coach fare, because I could make up the shortfall by leaving the children under the care of our host for a few hours while I went off busking in whichever town happened to be nearby.

For many years I carried on doing this, usually alone, but sometimes with others in small impromptu bands which was fun, but I still yearned for something more, for music played with others is more fulfilling than when it is a lone pursuit. I often went to folk sessions in the hope of meeting other people who I might gel musically with but nothing ever really came of it. Sometimes my hopes would be raised – I would be approached by other people while I was busking to join forces with them, but it never worked long term. Eventually I moved away from the city, met a single father of three, remarried and had two more children, but, with our large family, finances remained tight while my new partner built up his business. As a result I kept on with the street performances, although to be honest it was never just about the money for I was by now hooked on playing music to an audience. As well, of course, I still hoped that by having a public presence I might meet the right people to satisfy my lifelong dream of being in a professional band with others.

I had nearly given up hope, when it finally happened. There I was in town, playing in my usual Saturday morning busking spot, when, out of the blue, I was approached by an Irish singer who had just moved to the area and was starting afresh needing new musicians. I somehow instantly knew that he was the real deal and that this was to be a new chapter beginning in my life: My destiny had finally arrived.

I was green, naïve, and not nearly as good as I thought I was. This was my first lesson. The second was that performing on stage was quite shockingly completely different to anything I had ever done before, and I won't even go into what trying to play in a recording studio was like in those early days. The one thing in my favour was that I was keen, very eager, and willing to learn. The worst part was my constant and frustrating stage fright, and, over the years, the more popular we became the more scary the venues were. Out of a fear of losing my role in the band I mostly managed to keep these fears hidden behind a facade of false confidence, but eventually, of course, this was doomed to fail.

The band was excited for we had managed to snare ourselves a gig at a top quality folk music festival, where a successful performance would give us a big leap up the career ladder.

In the run up to this event however, the more the importance of doing well was drilled into me, the more nervous I became.

“I'll be ok,” I reassured myself, “I won't be the only lead instrumentalist, the fiddle player will be there and he always wants to play most of the tunes anyway.”

But, a few days before the gig, the fiddle player had to unexpectedly pull out, and so, on the night itself I found myself standing absolutely terrified on a stage with just the singer and a percussionist.

I looked out over the silent and expectant audience that was staring at us intently, and I recognised several as being some of the many outstanding musicians who were also playing at the festival. I also saw the agents who were there specifically to decide whether or not to book us for some really big up and coming events.

Shaking, I put the tin whistle to my lips, and as I tried to play the first notes I knew that the cracks in my long concealed facade were about to explode.

I made it through the gig, just about, and then spent the rest of the evening with a cloud of humiliation hanging over my head, while trying to avoid the rest of the band for fear of what they would say to me.

Well finally of course I had to face them, and all I shall say is that I was not sacked, but was told that I'd better not mess up the St Patricks round of gigs that started the following weekend. Luckily for me these were not intimidating venues as we were mostly playing to noisy Guinness swilling crowds, so it was not too hard to pick myself up and do my job properly. By the end of that week I was still in the band, but felt terrible for a long long time about how badly I had let my friends down.

The guilt from this ordeal forced me to finally accept that if I was to successfully fulfil my life long dream I had to seriously do something about my self confidence which I realised stemmed from a lack of formal training, so, I took the bull by the horns and enrolled as a (very) mature student onto a music degree course. Touring the country with my band while studying, learning the piano accordion (in order to give me more versatility within the singer/songwriter side of our outfit), and running the family home was incredibly hard work, but it was worth it, for when I graduated, I was finally able to feel confident on stage and be paid to play the music I wanted to without being held back by my fears of not being good enough, and so, at last, my dreams of yesterday finally became a reality.

I have met many people from all walks of life while touring and performing, and both myself and my band gained many fans and followers, but I have never egotistically used my position in the spotlight to separate and differentiate myself from those who thought that they should look up to us. Rather I have always used my own life experience within my career as a starting point to encourage other people to persevere with their own dreams, however impossible these may seem to them at the time. Entering university in my 50's with a severe case of 'technophobia', and thus hardly any computer skills at all, has, I have since discovered, been a great example when trying persuade disadvantaged or under confident individuals that the only thing stopping them from trying to succeed in their chosen fields, is more often than not, purely just down to their own self perception.

I have also taken the lessons that I learnt from my musical journey and applied it, whenever possible, to other areas of my life as well, so that despite the pandemic putting an end to the live music scene (for now at least), I utilised this unexpected spare time by working on my other passion of story writing. My first full length Science Fiction novel was finished just before Christmas and I have since sent it to a publishers, but will not know for quite a while as to whether this will be as successful as my music career.

To sum up the concept of 'monetising your passion', what I would say that I have learnt from my experiences, is that if you want to follow your vision, you must be prepared to work really hard, have confidence, but also humility, and don't give up without a fight. Regrets in life do not so much come from a lack of material success but rather from chasing that, at the expense of the innermost aspirations of your own personal holy grail. Yes, to gain both would be a great achievement, but the biggest waste of ones life is not about a lack of financial riches, but rather is about giving up on your dreams, not because they were not possible but because you doubted yourself and thus did not try hard enough. Not all dreams lead to wealth or even success, but win or lose, the greatest satisfaction in life comes from knowing that you gave your most passionate aims and ambitions your all.

I cannot send videos of my public performances as it is not just myself shown in them, and it would be very unprofessional of me to send films of the other band members without their permission. Likewise, in one of the photographs I have included, I have cut my co players out of the image. For the same reason I am unable to attach any of our band tracks either, though I have provided our website details below from which you can listen to much of our repertoire. The music I have therefore decided to use for this project is the instrumental version of an old Irish traditional song called 'Ned of the Hill' on which I am playing all of the tracks which I have recorded and mixed myself. I chose this piece of music because in my mind it takes me back to the place that I passionately loved the most in my life; the little cottage on the wild Atlantic coastline of Ireland where I started my married life and my family, and this is also why I chose to create a video of a compilation of images from a country to which I still feel such a deep connection and where my inner self goes to whenever I hear or play a beautiful piece of Irish music. This composition reminds me of exactly when and why my burning desire to play music began, and why I fell in love with that little brass tube on the table at my friends house all those years ago. My melodeon may be fun, and the accordion useful, but the Irish tin whistle for me is more than just an instrument; it is my musical voice that enables me to express myself to the World, and just sometimes seems to briefly pull back the veil to another dimension. I will always be happy that I have managed to monetize my passion, for what else can a person ask for other than to be in a position to spend their life doing what they love.

If you want to hear and see the full band for soundtracks and videos of great Irish songs, lively tunes and original music, we are called Henry Marten's Ghost, and our website is;

https://www.traditionalirishband.com/

Gillian O'Shea

14/06/2021

[email protected]

+447496037219

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