The Gospel According to Thy Diva: Would She Lie to Thou?
by Your Diva, Robin Pastorio-Newman

In a scene thou wilt find many kinds of artists. Do not in thy haste pursue simply the guitar bands, for they are many in my sight but not forming the whole of the scene. Pursue also the painters and poets, sculptors and dancers, and embrace the performance artists, and thou, musician, wilt have many friends who truly dig thy potatoes.

Go in person to see other artists, for the other artists shall be grateful and will pay five bucks to see thy show. And lo, there will be free drink tickets.

Pester not bartenders, club owners and cafe proprietors with petty concerns like the whereabouts of thy drummer. Though they are busy, they saw thy drummer's groupies, and wish him at least a pox, possibly upon his cattle.

If at the open mic nights, thou hearest 15 versions of "Dust In the Wind" thou shalt move to a town where thou hearest no versions of "Dust In the Wind," however thou try.

When other artists suck in thy sight, know thou the diff between a lack of skill and thine own taste? For good art may rock thy boat without rocking thy world. Thou wilt say, "Interesting..." and "They're nice guys..."

Wuss not in front of audiences by turning thy back, lest thy audience reciprocate and head toward the bar. Not one people wish to watch guitar straps, nor the movement of back pockets, for back pockets move little and guitar straps move neither to the right nor to the left. Instead, thou must move thy whole self, giving thy audience a thing to look at, for they will love a thing to look at. This I have said, this must thou hear and obey.

Screw not with the sound man, for he is thy God.

Keep thy promises to landlords regarding noise lest thou find thyself homeless, and thy band rehearsing in abandoned buildings. Lo, they will be without power when no bill is paid and thou wilt not plug in.

It is known in the land by one and all that musicians should make music, and music that makes the chicks dance increases thy chances with the chicks who dance and with the chicks who do not dance. Though guitarists begat guitarists and drummers begat drummers none begat without chicks, and heed thou them when they wish to dance for thou shalt get laid.

Hear me now and know the truth: no one is a scene unto himself. If there are no painters and scuptors and poets, oh my, thou hast no scene. Should thy head swell and thy ego inflate and thee begin referring to thyself in the disturbing third person, thou wilt skip practice and play flat, and I will mock thy haircut. If thou art the only game in town, thou needest another town, for no scene will grow, and thou wilt fail to learn from the others of thy kind, and thy band may come to suck.

Keep this as a sign unto thyself. Go forth and sing on key.

©2001 Robin Pastorio-Newman