Cooking up The Manifesto

Greetings, comrades of the Revolution!

I hope your week is off to a snazzy good start. It's foggy over here in Maryland, but I've got the fireplace going, and the classical radio station on. It's quite cozy.

I've been wandering the winter woods and fields, walking down along the Potomac river, watching the eagles, all the while plotting, plotting, and plotting some more. This is what I've got so far.

I made a big announcement on the radio recently. In case you missed it, it's this:

I'm building a million-person army of the Revolution to Overthrow Bad Music! And I want you to be part of it. Actually, I want it to be your army, too. Will you be one of a million, Comrade?

Here's the details:

We all agree that Bad Music is a gathering storm, and the darkness has been creeping up so fast that it's all but choked the life out of the places to hear tunes. Flip on the radio, and BAM, there it is! Go to the grocery store, and it rappels out of the speakers, hides behind the canned green beans, and assassinates our ears.

We must fight this menace! That's the first part.

The second part is this:

The "interwebs", as I fondly call the net, has/have made it super easy to network with people who listen to music. "In this business, we call 'em fans, son", my inner Texan might drawl. However, it's a fine line to walk between talking with people and talking at them. It's far too easy to fall into the promotion trap, and start spamming folks with an endless barrage of show invites, merchandise, and information.

As a fan, I like to be included in the creative process - if it is sincere. I always feel bad when I go to see a musician I like, and I can't talk to them, or feel insignificant. While of course I'm just a drop in the bucket, each person is important to an artist's success. I think everyone hates feeling like they don't matter, and this is the dangerous part of the online experience. Us musicians can sometimes start to put on airs rather quickly to the detriment of our supporters, when, in fact, they're really our bosses! We're working for each and every person who listens to our music, after all.

Here's what my idea is: Building this army should be more than just a gimmick for getting likes on a facebook page. It should literally be a revolution, an-all inclusive movement where everyone is a VIP, each person is fighting bad music even if they can't sing "Happy Birthday" (I can't), and every single soldier is a true Comrade of the Revolution.

What if: Instead of me signing autographs at a show, you gave me yours? I need to get a guitar for everyone to sign!

What if: There was a wall in my studio where any comrade could send a photo of them overthrowing bad music? What if there was an online site with the photos, complete with a map, so we could see just how close we were to taking over the world?

What if: There was merch you could get at cost?

What if: I recorded a song incorporating samples from everyone in the army?

What if: We all wrote that song together?

What if: I helped you get the word out about your music?

What if: We really took over the world?

For too long, I've been too competitive. I thought guitar was some sort of Highlander or something, where there could be only one. Baloney! Well, hey, maybe that's the case, but today, I'm letting that go. Steve Vai, you win. Local musicians who are more popular than me - you win. I'm putting down the hatchet, and picking up a party hat. A COMRADE Party hat! Bad Music - consider this fair warning. I'm cooking up an offical manifesto in the Komrade Kitchen. It'll be done shortly.

This Revolution is all about the fun. Let's get a million people with us.

Can I hear a "Sup, COMRADE?"

Saluting you!

- Josh