Almost Famous: Are Local Musicians Happy at Home?

Written by Max Kramer
Edited by Anvi Bui

Across the nation and the world, people have Portland on the brain. Today, it is easier to find an immigrant than a native in this city, and a popular question seems to be, "Where are you from?" And unless the person in question is wearing a cowboy hat or hula skirt, the answer tends to be unpredictable. They come from all over: Virginia, California, England, Chile, California, Alaska, China, Florida, and of course, California. Many will say it is Portland’s rich and varied culture, lifestyle and cuisine that draw them here. Some of them like the city’s laid-back lifestyle combined with its entrepreneurship, while others enjoy its open spaces and outdoor offerings. Anyway you look at it: Portland is a great place to live. There are many things that make this city stand out amongst others, but as far as the mainstream music business is concerned, our musicians are not one of them. However, it isn’t because we’re lacking them; any day of the week, you can easily peruse a local newspaper like The Mercury or the Willamette Week and find page after page of shows, tours and club listings. Almost every night, you have the choice of listening to DJ’s spinning dance music at clubs, artists reciting poetry at open-mic, or even headlining acts performing at sold out shows. But for some reason; some dark and dirty reason, Portland is inept at establishing itself as a nationally acclaimed music scene.

Portland could possibly be stunting its artists, stopping them from reaching “greater heights.” The most obvious reason to think so is its lack of any industry presence. In other words, there are very few acclaimed recording studios, influential record labels, and distribution teams in the area. Also, Portland is situated between Seattle and L.A., forcing groups signed to a major label (such as Geffen or Capitol Records) to relocate; and, in order for a music scene to be classified as truly local, it has to be similar to the locale itself. This results in Portland becoming fertile grounds for independent record labels and distribution groups. When local musicians work with these independent record labels and recording studios, it creates a community. Anyone who has witnessed the formation of this community can testify to its pros and cons. The most glaring con is the belief that a musician who wishes to break out of this group to reach a wider audience has very few outlets to do so. Not to say that standing out in the Portland music scene is simple, but those with dreams of platinum records might want to look elsewhere.

Mic Crenshaw, a respected and locally well-known hip-hop artist, says his audiences are “people who I really respect, so I’m successful in that regard.” After several group albums and solo EPs, Crenshaw enjoys creating music that is a reflection of what he likes, and music that when heard, “the people who listen to it do it in a way that I want them to.” This approach Crenshaw takes to his music exudes integrity. One can still take notice of how he carries himself with a quiet humility, even without broad shoulders or a strong stare. Portland is lucky to have Crenshaw, but he represents only one perspective in an eclectic pool of talent.

Cartoonist John Callahan has many things to say about current issues. He has been writing and drawing racy cartoons for the Willamette Week for the past twenty years. If you can catch this redhead cruising around Northwest’s Alphabet district, he’ll be more than happy to discuss his recent focus: songwriting. Working with groups like My Morning Jacket, Callahan is quickly becoming recognized for more than his cartoons. Reflecting on the current state of Portland’s music industry, he talks about musicians finding it harder than previous decades to stake a claim on originality and sound.

According to Callahan, these bands defined the sound and music of their generation. They could stand alone via a mix of talent, integrity and originality. One of the problems today is that “everyone is a songwriter; that’s the reason why the music today is all watered down,” he says. Exposure seems to be a source behind this development. With the creation of the Internet and advances in technology, personal and independent distributions have never been so desirable and easily attained. And what are the payoffs to exposure and ‘making it’ as a musician? Callahan shrugs his shoulders and answers, “Pussy I suppose, or some form of it.”

Portland has its own flavor and plenty of clubs to showcase it. There are street performers galore, many of which have CDs for sale. I challenge you to go a week without hearing about “My Friend’s Band.” It’s almost impossible, and unless you choose to do complete and socially deforming isolation, it is detrimental to even try. It seems like everyone and their mom is a musician. Craigslist.com and newspaper pages are filled with the following musician classifieds: “WANTED! Lady Singer/Accordion Player”; “Melodic Death Metal Band Needs Brutal Singer”; “Bluegrass Lead Mandolin.” And those ads are just from skimming the first page. You can’t walk the streets of this town without literally tripping over a musician.

So why is it that Portland is almost unknown in the national recording and music industry? Sure; we have our stars. Many can still remember when Portland’s own band The Dandy Warhols released their album, The Dandy Warhols Come Down in 1997, putting the city on the map for modern rock. The band is so well known around town that I have met not just one, but two people who claim to have done drugs with the band. Between 1997 and now, Portland has grown by over a half a million residents, and the only other major band that we’ve managed to produce is The Decembrists. Portland has all the fixings to be one of the best music scenes in the country, but is that what the city really wants?

Crenshaw has an interesting answer to this question. He was asked about what he would do if offered a recording contract from a major record label. However, in signing such the contract, Crenshaw would be required to dilute his message or even change it entirely. In response, our hip-hop hero says something uniquely Portland: “You cross that bridge when you get there,” he says, “and here is how you cross it.” According to Crenshaw, he would consult his personal community regarding his offer. First, he would bring the issue to those he trusted most. He claims his reasoning behind this is because decisions like that will change everything. One has to know where they’ve been, where they are going and how they want to get there. He explains how decisions like that affect people other than yourself, like people who depend on you. “Think of concentric circles,” Crenshaw says, and if your emergency contacts urge you to move forward in that decision, you take another step outward. Crenshaw explains, “after that inner circle, you check in some of the other people who maybe aren’t be as connected. These people see you from the outside and can give you some practical advice. There are things that maybe you don’t take as seriously, but people that look at you who you don’t know matter might take very seriously. That’s how I’d cross that bridge.”

The group Nightcrawlers is comprised of two local emcees and a DJ who happens to be one of the most talented hip-hop DJs in the city. The group just released their first album and is enjoying a bit of a spotlight. Still, the Nightcrawlers don’t seem to make it much further than small local venues. To understand their approach to the music scene, you must witness one of their shows. The group is easily accessible before and after a show, a trait that is admired by the Portland community. Portlanders like to see, touch, and talk to our artists, maybe even buy them a beer before their set. The group gets on stage, plays their songs and chats with the crowd. After the show, one of them might even approach you and half-heartedly inquire if you would like to purchase a CD. And that about does it; they seem to be satisfied opening for the better known hip-hop acts of the northwest. They do talk about how they would like to get their music out to rest of the country, but to them, playing for Portland crowds is doing just that. They’re getting their music out to a community that respects them and their efforts.

For many Portland musicians, there is something very intimate about being an integral part of their community. There may not be money or national recognition to show for it; however, there is community appreciation. When asked, most will say that a packed club or basement is the best crowd they could ask for. It is all a matter of the artist’s belief on progression, validation, and appreciation. It is not the city itself that is keeping these artists from going mainstream, but instead, perhaps it is the communities that this city has created. These communities seem to encourage the thought that you don’t need to satisfy a bunch of strangers across the country when you can get the feedback you need from those right outside your door.

Crenshaw is a veteran of independent music, having released albums across the nation. Even as a veteran, he approaches his community with the bigger issues concerning his music. He is an example of how a conscientious musician operates; just like the Nightcrawlers, who are an example of how locally satisfied musicians operate. Even Callahan, who has found a niche in the ocean of song writing, can define another perspective on modern music. Every now and then a Dandy Warhols or Decemberists will make find their way into the national stream. And maybe it’s the other musicians of Portland who, by creating a nurturing community, stunt any possibility money and fame. Maybe the same things that make Portland special are the things that make it inhospitable to musicians’ dreams of chart topping albums. Who knows, and moreover, who really cares? It’s quite clear that Portland has talent and the people of Portland love that talent. So while people in Miami and New York are listening to the same songs that the people in L.A. and Chicago are listening to, we’re going to check out that new “Melodic Death Metal Band”; I think they’re opening for Crenshaw tonight.

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When he isn't wrestling Arctic Jaguars or touring with the Wu-Tang Clan, Max Kramer can be found in and around Portland, Oregon. He enjoys cultural happenings and the finer things in life, like Wisconsin sharp cheddar and video games. Max is a piscatarian and has never seen an Indiana Jones film. He also hopes you have a wonderful day.