The thing about writing and music is

If it was as easy as all that, we’d all be best-sellers, right?

In the writing world:
I’ve read excellent published work But I’ve also read excellent unpublished work! I’ve crit’d and reviewed writing which has gone on to become published when, frankly, it shouldn’t have made it out of the envelope, let alone made it out of the slush pile.

And I’ve crit’d and reviewed unpublished work that captured the imagination of the reader; it pulled one along, manipulated the reader through abstract imagery – and sometimes memories. It was so good that it penetrated the psyche of the reader and whispered, from inside the brain, this is you, this really is you. You could be here, you could be this person.

The ability to create this, to suspend all forms of disbelief is actually the most difficult thing for any writer to achieve in contemporary literary fiction. A first work has to be more than right, it has to do more than grab attention from the outset. It also has to maintain a high level of impulsion. It also has to be believable. Be real. Be honest. Be true.

Aye, it’s fair to say that I’ve read several unpublished works like this. Several that have been this good. So good in fact, yes so good that they made me want to go out in to the street, stop people at random, thrust a copy in their hands and yell at them ‘go home and read this, it’ll change the way you look at dentists (one unpublished novel) lunatic Welsh rabbit-keepers (another  unpublished novel) or yourselves (both novels!) for the rest of your lives!‘

And do you know what my friends?

Those novels – and many, many more of similar quality – remain unpublished. They sit underneath the computer table, languishing in a cardboard box with a couple of other dusty memories. The author, sometimes, looking at the box, remembers what is in there and how long it took to complete – and what it took to complete in emotional terms – and remembering (once bitterly, but now with a massive sense of irony) the many rejection letters the novel gathered, whilst thinking of the reams of utter dross on the shelves of WH Smith.

But what’s a writer to do about it? The literary industry is tightly controlled.

So tightly controlled that a few years ago Iris Murdoch bravely submitted an unpublished novel under a pseudonym to every literary agent and – later – every publisher in the UK. Do you really need me to tell you that every single addressee rejected it?

So what is a writer to do about it?

Self-publish publish? It seems to be the growing trend.

On 1st November I shall be going to a book-launch in London; the official unveiling of the third chapter in the life of the young but oh so talented writer Sam Manicom. Sam has had this book – as were the previous two – published under his own name. He’s done the job of a literary agent and a publisher; the PR, marketing, sales, distribution, stock control and warehousing…

It seems incredible to me that Sam was unable to get what some might call a ‘normal’ book deal whilst (in the same genre) a television tie-in ostensibly written by (but I doubt it) those two charmless oafish buffoons Charley Boorman and Ewan McGregor appears on the shelves of Waterstones with zero effort and are yet produced with less than half of Sam’s ability. The truth is that more and more writers are turning to self-publishing these days – as a way of side-stepping the ancient monoliths that stand astride the literary world and turn a deaf ear to talent, whilst allowing the likes of Beckham, Jordan and Keegan (to name but three talentless scribblers) in to print.

In the music world:
And so it is in the world of music – it is much the same.

These days it seems that the only new artists getting record deals are chav princesses and winners of televised talent shows.

Because you can bang on the doors of record labels, you can stand outside radio stations, you can make appointments to see music agents, station managers and A&R men, but no matter what you’ve got to tell them… they’re just not listening.

Everyone – without exception – absolutely everyone who has heard the material I’ve put in front of their ears by The Razorbax has been hooked. But can I get someone in the music industry interested? Can I fuck. It occurs to me that if I had put three songs on a CD-R with a little artwork I could have called it an EP and sold about 50 copies.

That’s just around the office and people I know!

I’ll get back to The Razorbax in a minute.

This evening I met with a couple of guys from a (very) local radio station in South West London. The Razorbax isn’t their bag – I knew that before I went there. My objective this evening was something different.

I gave them a mini-disk with one complete and two edited tracks by Danny Rhymez and Matty B and, to be fair to the guys, they listened to it there and then. Afterwards they said they’d see – they’d think about it. But they can’t fool me, I saw the glint. The bad news is that this was one of the many pirate radio stations in this part of what we laughingly call our nation’s capital. So the lads aren’t going to get rich, no royalties in the pirate world. But they will get a play (or more!) – I’m sure of that. And maybe we can build on that. Maybe. Perhaps. Who knows?

But get the mainstream media to wake up to talent? That’s nigh on bloody impossible.

So for the last four or five days I’ve been researching a thing: pros and cons of setting up an indie record label.

Now hang on. I’m not for one instant saying that’s what I’m going to do. All I’m saying is that I’m researching it.

And the surprising thing?

Well, the truly surprising thing is how little record labels physically do for their slice of the royalty cake.

Oh sure, they have the contacts and they milk those contacts. It’s not exactly ‘payola’ but no-one can deny that there is a form of patronage between the record labels and the radio stations.

Another surprising thing my research into indie record labels has thrown up is the seemingly large number of bands who have formed their own labels.

Is this the musical version of self-publishing?

In terms of a business model, if an indie record label concentrated on relationship management, carefully cultivated high-level decision-makers instead of going for the ‘all or nothing scatter-gun’ approach…

And if an indie record label digitised the product then spent 50% of its effort marketing that digital product…

What would happen?

The business model would suggest that the budget would be divided between band (salaries and expenses), studio time, gig overheads, marketing/advertising, minimal overhead and digitising/distribution costs. Income from sales, gig receipts and (yes, I’m going to say it) merchandise would be the other half of the balance sheet.

Again, let’s clear up any misconceptions…

I know I am not going to spend my days, evenings and nights doing the gruntwork behind an indie record label.

I know this.

But I do know how to run a company. And market. And sell. And build business relationships. And exploit niche markets. And organise.

I’m a fucking MBA for crying out loud – graduated top of my class and won the Endeavour Trophy in to the bargain; that kind of stuff is second nature to me.

No, I couldn’t spend all day doing the grunt work – I am busy running my own company (and filling what’s left of my time with the competing priorities I have in my life).

But I could – in theory at least – set up a label, build the necessary frameworks for it to operate within, organise it, identify the markets, plan, make contacts with people, establish the relationships, build campaigns…

And I’d let someone with some time do the hard-nosed gruntwork. A 20-something on commission? Get one of those personable, attractive young chuggers off the street and give them a real challenge – but for a decent income.

I have learned that indie record labels don’t make big bucks but that’s OK. My business sense says the thing to do is structure the label like a ‘proper’ (i.e. non-media-based) organisation; salary-based draw-downs and then structure a proper cash-flow with planned milestones against a business and marketing plan.

Sigh.

You can see from this very small brain dump how much thought I’ve given the concept. But it is just a concept. It’s no more than a mental exercise at the moment. And what I’ve dumped here is just a tiny excerpt of how much mulling I’ve been giving the idea. So far – I’d estimate – I’ve put in about 50 hours of concentrated brain time. It needs another 50 – at least.

And more phone calls. And door knocking. But much more thinking.

One thought that’s constantly in my head though? That the day of the giant might be coming to a close.

B.