NEWSLETTERS

April GoatNotes:

Spring, at long last, is opening in full color across the Texas landscape. That's why the cardinals, swallows and blue jays have been so plentiful in my yard. Today, I noticed a bird's nest in an empty flower pot in a holder by my door! I have to keep my plants up where the deer can't eat them (my empty pots too). Hoping to see the eggs, I stood on my tippy-toes to look into the nest, but the tangled mass of toilet paper, string, leaves, twigs, and wallpaper made it almost impossible to see anything. So, naturally, I bent my head down INTO the nest and looked a little closer. I saw something! But before I could figure out just what I saw, the mama bird came flyin' OUT of the nest (scaring me half to death), popped me right between the eyes, used fowl language and chased me around my front porch until I ran inside.
I've been exiting out the back door ever since!


The Art of Removing Wallpaper
It was right about this time of year, way back in 1996, that I started my own label. I needed to pay back $3,000 I had borrowed from a friend to pay off my first recording, "Two Dollar Shoes." I had to get the record out there and start selling it so I could get out of debt. It was a big deal back then to release your own "CD" (as opposed to your own cassette ... remember those?). I was so green at doing this that I had the artwork printed separately from the CDs - which meant that four hours prior to my release party at Gruene Hall (located in Gruene, Texas), I sat perched on a bench, sweating in the June heat, hovered over a table in an assembly line alongside friends (and strangers!) frantically stuffing artwork into jewel cases. I got it released though, and soon after paid off my investor as well as my college tuition - thus forever charting my course as an independent artist.

I'd planned on eventually going with a label, but economics as well as artistic freedom to this day has dictated otherwise. Sure, it's sometimes difficult to get my music to be heard on the radio and sold in record stores, and it can be even harder to collect payment for records that have sold through distributors. It's expensive, too. Some months, the cost of envelopes and postage alone equates to three house payments. But I know what my overhead is and what I could potentially make if I was to partner with a label, and I'd still take a pay cut. And trust me, it's not a greed thing - my financial goals are as simple as being able to stay afloat, keep my house, car and health in working order and pay the occasional unforeseen, monstrous vet bill, like when my mutt Jessie knocked his two front teeth out on a rawhide.

Still, there are people in the music business who perceive folks like me as running a "vanity label." These are often the same people who quote SoundScan sales figures like biblical text and use the latest issue of "Rolling Stone" or "Spin" to base their opinions of what's "in." Cynical and jaded, they see the "wallpaper" of the music industry but not what's thriving underneath it. As an independent artist, it'll always be difficult for me to walk the business-versus-artist tightrope while not allowing myself to get hog-tied in the trenches of the industry. But considering the good fortune I've had in garnering a fan base, I feel I have a personal responsibility to remain true to the artistic muse that brought me here in the first place. For me, maintaining inspiration, especially when I'm anything *but* inspired, is the key.

Which leads me to my new album, "The Art of Removing Wallpaper." No, it's not as groundbreaking as if I were to record Russian folk songs sung in Chinese and set to Celtic music ... not to mention as out there as the "techno" album I've often talked about doing (and, fair warning, still plan to do!). But it's still the most difficult recording I've ever done. For the most part, none of the songs had been road-tested when we went into the studio, so there was no set way for me to sing or play my new tunes. Hit or miss, Lloyd Maines had the patience to encourage me to try new things and let me blindly learn my way as we recorded. From the melody to the music, many of the songs were figured out while tape was rolling.

I actually began my journal, "The Art of Removing Wallpaper," last April, after settling into a new home that, when I bought it, was a monument to bad wallpaper. We're talking football helmets, flowers, hearts, loops, squares and polka-dots, not to mention the geese, ducks and turkey prints. The past tenants had even attempted to wallpaper the light fixtures. While undergoing the painstaking task of removing the eyesore, I listened to a lot of radio and television. With the upcoming presidential election, I realized that most of what I heard was wallpaper, too. And, for the most part, I found it just as ugly as the border of ducks flying into the miss-matched field of brown-checkered print that adorned my walls. Sometimes, when I grew bored or frustrated, I turned everything off and just listened to myself. It had been a long time since I peered into the dark and let myself hear that quiet voice inside of me. That voice painted a picture of my family, friends, health, faith, politics and my business. I removed the wallpaper and took a good look at reality. Being the perpetual optimist, I was surprised to admit that some of what I discovered sucked. But for all the ugly parts I occasionally uncovered, I uncovered a lot of beauty, too. And the ugly parts, well, I knew I'd get through it, over it, around it, and all would be okay.

And when in doubt ... I wrote it out. I was able to take all the experience I gained over the past two years - both personal and professional, both good and bad - and express it in the studio. I still think of this album as a journal, and it's kind of scary to open it up and share it. But it's exciting too. I couldn't wait to show off my new house to my friends after I'd worked so hard to remove all that wallpaper. And I can't wait to play these songs live and get this record out. So much so, I don't even mind all the long hours still in store for me and my team on the business end. Eight years after starting my own label, I'm still independent, I'm still afloat and I'm still surrounded by friends (and friendly strangers) who will roll up their sleeves and get in the trenches with me to help me do what I love when it's down to the wire. And it's hard not to feel proud - and humble, too - every time I really rediscover that. If some people want to call that "vanity," so be it. I call it blessed.

Happy trails, and thanks for your support!
Terri Hendrix

© (P) THM Music February 2004
Mailing list additions and deletions terri@terrihendrix.com
www.terrihendrix.com
Email list subscriptions: Anne Currie
wilory@corridor.net