Part One.

            In the few years I’ve learned to embrace the music industries of both today and yesterday, I’ve learned quite a few things, some vital to success and some that would make amazing Trivial Pursuit questions.

            Through launching The Dominant Allele, I feel that some of these sentiments are being thoroughly expressed. The subtler, more random, and more, well, whatever, I’d like to express here.

1. Always carry a pen and paper. A picture is worth a thousand words, but 2,000 makes a great cover article.

2. In the realm of promotion, “I can do that!” will become your trusty catchphrase.

3. When you can’t “do that”, refer to sentiment #2.

4. Look nice when traveling; one never knows up with whom one might meet in airports, especially when one is in Chicago for four consecutive hours.

Note to readers: Right now I’m on Ka’anapali Beach in Maui, Hawaii thinking about my four-hour layover in Chicago tomorrow. Jet lag’s a beast, but I’ll explain that later.

5. One should use one’s marketing skills in unlikely places. On a one-day snorkel trip to a neighboring island, I talked to a family from Berlin with my semi-rusty German language skills. After discussing the local Maui brush fires and other travel times, I explained the general idea of my online Musikzeitschrift, as it were. I even explained The Dominant Allele to the girl applying my henna tattoo (I have no real ones, thank you!); I’ll post a link to her at a later date.

6. The two most upsetting words in the wide, wide world: SOLD OUT.

7. Ask for help when you need it. As Bilbo Baggins would say, don’t let yourself “feel like butter scraped over too much bread.” Sounds like quite a motherly thing to say, but when you, yes you, are so exhausted that you’re sick for weeks at a time, let me know so I can send you a big “I TOLD YOU SO!!!” sign that you can plug in and light up.

8. “No matter what you’ve undergone, the measure of success is how much you can charge it on American Express.”

Emerson, Lake, and Palmer—enough said.

9. One shouldn’t put grindcore on one’s falling-asleep mixtape. One won’t fall asleep.

Exception: One already IS asleep, in which case one will be rudely awakened by shouts that died out ten years ago. Trust me.

10. No, I can’t put any more of your friends on the guest list. No, I’m not a groupie. Yes, I’m listening to Peter Gabriel. Do you have a problem with it? I don’t know why your stickers got lost in the mail. No, I didn’t overnight them. Yes, I live in Pittsburgh, and yes, it can snow September-May. No, I don’t own a parka. Yes, I play piano. My middle name is NOT Beethoven. Yes, I’m the honorary tambourine player in a band on a major label. No, I can’t give you their numbers. No, I’m not lying. Yes, I run street teams for several bands. Yes, I can start one for your band, but please remember that, like you, I need to put gas in my car. Yes, the pineapple in Lahaina costs $10. Yes, airplane food is awful. (What’s with that stuff?) Yes, I am almost done. No, the lizard is not under the seat of the rental car anymore. Swallowing ocean water makes anyone nauseated. And in the immortal words of Stewie Griffin, “There’s a granola bar in the cupboard and I want it!”

Self-explanatory.

Part Two.

            It’s now 6:43 a.m. CST in Chicago O’Hare. About three more hours to board—what a drag. I saw the sunset on the way to San Francisco and the sunrise to Chicago, and still one more time zone to go.

            Right now I’m listening to Twisted Sister’s rendition of “We’re Not Gonna Take It,” reading over the first part of this article, and laughing because a good portion of it was scribbled in the dark by the LED light of whichever electronic apparatus I had handy at the moment.