To Get, Or Quit...A Day Job

The short answer is: neither.

If you actually want to make any money as a musician, and if you’re dumb enough to follow the pipe dream of wanting to "make it," you need to not have a job—at least, not have one that you want to keep for any extended period of time. This isn’t to say you need to be writing songs, rehearsing, practicing, busking, playing shitty dive bars, paying exorbitant amounts for recording time, networking with people who have possible record label connections all the fucking time. You don’t actually need to put too much time into this bullshit fantasy endeavor.

Rather, you need to be available when opportunity knocks, at any given moment. You need to be able to say "yes," when someone asks you to fly down to Los Angeles for a showcase (pro tip: move to Los Angeles— or, New York—you’re wasting your time anywhere else). You need to be able to take three months off to tour the coast that you don’t live on, because a more successful band likes you and wants you to support them on their tour, which hits actual venues and pays more than just drink tickets.

The punk rock, D.I.Y. ethos, has led all of us aspiring musicians to be broke and miserable, trying to support ourselves financially, while also living the dream of being a working musician. In order to make it, there’s a lot of nothing and then a lot of work, in a very short period of time—and, there’s no steady job that’s going to put up with it. You gotta be independently wealthy, have a sugar daddy (or mama), have rich parents that will support you indefinitely (and then turn into one of the hipster indie dance blah blah blah bands) or have some job where you make a lot of money in very little time and are beholden to no one. Dear strippers and drug dealers, why don’t more of you try out a music career? You have the financial tools to do so! Like, seriously, why is there not an all-stripper rock band in Portland that puts Sleater-Kinney to shame?!

But, I digress.

Since such financial independence isn’t available to most of us lowly musician types, I will discuss the pros and cons of each work style and its conduciveness to a musician’s lifestyle.

Service Industry

This seems to be the most frequent "day" job for your average musician and that’s probably because the "day" part isn’t exactly accurate. Practically all your favorite local bands (especially in Portland) work at your favorite local bar, as well. This is mostly because the hours are the same. Get up at noon, fuck around for a while, show up at five, work until about midnight, then party until three. This doesn’t just go for playing local shitty dive bars, but also when on tour. Also, most studio time is booked at this time. All the good shit gets put to tape around 3am. No one recorded a masterpiece bright and early at 9am (yes, I know there are counterexamples, but I’m trying to make a point and be funny about it...you’re reading a strip club magazine, so give me some wiggle room).

Since the hours are the same, it has led to the people being the same. You’re not gonna meet the next Jack to your Meg or Big Boi to your Andre 3000, at an office. Music people are garbage people and are going to congregate at garbage jobs (don’t take offense— I’m one of you.) However, the service industry is going to attract other people who are also stupid enough to pursue music, so it is a good networking hub. Brad from accounting probably doesn’t even know how to play tambourine, but the prep cook Chelsea actually shreds at guitar and is just doing this shit job to support her addictive music habit.

The massive downside, is since the hours are the same, you run into constant scheduling conflicts. I worked in the service industry for over ten years and every show, every studio session and every little mini tour was a nightmare and a half, trying to get time off of work. Since many food and beverage business owners don’t give a flying fuck about their employees, it is always your problem and you’re at the mercy of your coworkers to try to get shifts covered, so you can, you know, do the thing that defines you as a person. It is a never-ending freight train of stress, trying to keep a steady job in the service industry and do good by your greedy, petty owner (plus your siblings-in-arms employees) and still make it to the next gig.

9-To-5

I’m not going to pretend to be an expert on the suit and tie, soul-crushing, worker-drone lifestyle. I’m new to it and going off of anecdotal evidence from friends. However, I will say that the very first thing that appealed to me about this kind of day-job-support-of- music-addiction was the schedule. There is really something magical about getting to say "yes" to any and all musical endeavors, because low and fucking behold, you get...wait for it...NIGHTS AND WEEKENDS OFF! The time when, you know, shows happen. In this sense, a boring office job seems more than ideal, if you want to be available for the opportunities your pipe dream will throw you.

However, there is a catch...

If you’ll refer back to the service-industry section, said "shows" will keep you up until three (or, sometimes four) in the morning. And, then, you gotta get up in four hours to be at the office on time. You’re still drunk from the night before and your nose is still bleeding from all the shitty coke you did. Hopefully, you have a cubicle or office where you can take a nap, without getting caught.

You do make more money and you get this weird thing called P.T.O. (paid time off), which—if you’re an idiot like me—you’ll use to go on shitty tours in your shitty van, to shitty L.A. and back, in hopes that you can finally quit your shitty "actual day" job. And, it is nice to not ever have to worry about making a show. But, your average office job only offers two weeks of vacation time a year, and if you want to start showing that talent scout or band manager you mean business, you need six months out of the year to just fuck off to wherever they tell you to go.

Also, your average musician isn’t working as an office drone, so you’re not doing shit for networking and not meeting any potential musical soulmates. Even if the scheduling and money works out, unless you got a solid group of musicians already lined up for your passion project, you’ll find yourself alone in a cubicle, with dreams of grandeur. Plus, Brad from accounting can’t even play tambourine.