Sidney Stephens Music is creating Original Music
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I love music. I love making music. I love how it's undefinable in it's power. And it can be so powerful that it changes the world. Heavy stuff.
Years ago, I was going to a graphic design school in Tempe, Arizona, when, one weekend, I wandered into a music store. I zeroed out my bank account, used all the cash in my pocket, and possibly wrote a bad check from an old account, to buy a used Fender 12 string guitar. It was around $185.00.

I taught myself to play it. I just experimented and discovered one chord at a time. Mostly in the wee hours, alone inside the apartment's laundry room, where the acoustics were great, and I had to do my laundry anyway.
Playing that guitar woke up a part of me that I always wanted. In elementary school, I used to dream about playing guitar. I had been taking piano lessons, but dropped out due to the boring, monotonous, practicing of scales. I was also making up songs, and that was not allowed.
My brother gave me his old guitar, that he never learned to play, after it was broken. I remember riding in the back seat of a 1980 Ford Fairlane on a road trip from Andrews to Lubbock, Texas, I somehow tuned it to an open E chord and strummed while squeezing the broken, split open body, making a tremelo sound until it eventually completely fell apart. In retrospect, I was a natural musician.
After I graduated from art school, I went to see a show in Santa Fe, New Mexico that featured three songwriters. The only one I knew of was Marshall Crenshaw. That show blew my mind, almost literally. I was so inspired that I went back the next night, to nervously and over anxiously proclaim to Mr. Crenshaw that I was going to move to Austin, Texas and become a songwriter. I don't know why I felt like he needed to know that. After he was genuinely concerned about my well being and was assured I was not having a stroke, he said, "Yeah, Austin's a great town". So I did it, and started a very long, strange journey.

Sometimes it seems like a horribly unfair curse to be creative, and to not have the means to do anything with it. I've tried to quit, but it's breathing, and I can't stop.

For years, I've done an incredibly lousy job of making money at working full time. Employers like to keep people around that do a good job with low pay. It seems to be a type of business model that works for them. I've always struggled with bills, student loans, rent, and food, but never lost the desire to make music. I did quit playing for a few years, but it was more due to an overwhelming lack of resources that triggered a hidden, deep, internal sadness. Things are much better now.

It's taken a long time to build up my arsenal of creativity tools, and finally, I have just enough to record some of my songs, close to how I have always heard them in my head.
Eleven years ago, I started building a studio inside a tough-shed. Before that, I built a studio in Tennessee and taught myself how to engineer sound. All with the technical help of my wife. She's awesome with computers and drywall advice. I've recorded a plethora of artists and thoroughly enjoyed most of them. I became a popular mix tape studio for rappers in Nashville and recorded a full, awesome, album with my friend Al. (The L.G.'s, You Want Too Much, available for download on CD Baby). I also started a kids music CD in Nashville, and finished it after moving back to Texas. It took six years to finish. (Bugs for Dinner. Also on CD Baby).
So my plan now is to ask for help. It's an experiment and an adventure. To finance  making more music with the help of people who value the art of music.
My dream is to finish recording the songs I wrote twenty plus years ago, and move on to new projects. I already have so much on back burners, there's no fear of running out. Stories, comedy, and music.

The world I've personally known is not kind to artists. It's never been taken seriously as a sustainable means of income. I was always offended when my music was referred to as a hobby. In my head, I thought, actually, a job is a hobby. This is my life.
I have so many philosophical questions about this particular process, but it seems like a pathway to share music and at least, feel successful. So I'll give it a shot.

I have always believed in myself. Even when I haven't.

Thanks to anyone reading this and enjoying the music, paid or not.
I love music. I love making music. I love how it's undefinable in it's power. And it can be so powerful that it changes the world. Heavy stuff.
Years ago, I was going to a graphic design school in Tempe, Arizona, when, one weekend, I wandered into a music store. I zeroed out my bank account, used all the cash in my pocket, and possibly wrote a bad check from an old account, to buy a used Fender 12 string guitar. It was around $185.00.

I taught myself to play it. I just experimented and discovered one chord at a time. Mostly in the wee hours, alone inside the apartment's laundry room, where the acoustics were great, and I had to do my laundry anyway.
Playing that guitar woke up a part of me that I always wanted. In elementary school, I used to dream about playing guitar. I had been taking piano lessons, but dropped out due to the boring, monotonous, practicing of scales. I was also making up songs, and that was not allowed.
My brother gave me his old guitar, that he never learned to play, after it was broken. I remember riding in the back seat of a 1980 Ford Fairlane on a road trip from Andrews to Lubbock, Texas, I somehow tuned it to an open E chord and strummed while squeezing the broken, split open body, making a tremelo sound until it eventually completely fell apart. In retrospect, I was a natural musician.
After I graduated from art school, I went to see a show in Santa Fe, New Mexico that featured three songwriters. The only one I knew of was Marshall Crenshaw. That show blew my mind, almost literally. I was so inspired that I went back the next night, to nervously and over anxiously proclaim to Mr. Crenshaw that I was going to move to Austin, Texas and become a songwriter. I don't know why I felt like he needed to know that. After he was genuinely concerned about my well being and was assured I was not having a stroke, he said, "Yeah, Austin's a great town". So I did it, and started a very long, strange journey.

Sometimes it seems like a horribly unfair curse to be creative, and to not have the means to do anything with it. I've tried to quit, but it's breathing, and I can't stop.

For years, I've done an incredibly lousy job of making money at working full time. Employers like to keep people around that do a good job with low pay. It seems to be a type of business model that works for them. I've always struggled with bills, student loans, rent, and food, but never lost the desire to make music. I did quit playing for a few years, but it was more due to an overwhelming lack of resources that triggered a hidden, deep, internal sadness. Things are much better now.

It's taken a long time to build up my arsenal of creativity tools, and finally, I have just enough to record some of my songs, close to how I have always heard them in my head.
Eleven years ago, I started building a studio inside a tough-shed. Before that, I built a studio in Tennessee and taught myself how to engineer sound. All with the technical help of my wife. She's awesome with computers and drywall advice. I've recorded a plethora of artists and thoroughly enjoyed most of them. I became a popular mix tape studio for rappers in Nashville and recorded a full, awesome, album with my friend Al. (The L.G.'s, You Want Too Much, available for download on CD Baby). I also started a kids music CD in Nashville, and finished it after moving back to Texas. It took six years to finish. (Bugs for Dinner. Also on CD Baby).
So my plan now is to ask for help. It's an experiment and an adventure. To finance  making more music with the help of people who value the art of music.
My dream is to finish recording the songs I wrote twenty plus years ago, and move on to new projects. I already have so much on back burners, there's no fear of running out. Stories, comedy, and music.

The world I've personally known is not kind to artists. It's never been taken seriously as a sustainable means of income. I was always offended when my music was referred to as a hobby. In my head, I thought, actually, a job is a hobby. This is my life.
I have so many philosophical questions about this particular process, but it seems like a pathway to share music and at least, feel successful. So I'll give it a shot.

I have always believed in myself. Even when I haven't.

Thanks to anyone reading this and enjoying the music, paid or not.

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