Julia Pinckney Jones Music

Last week, we launched our Indiegogo Campaign, and we couldn't be happier with the response we've seen so far. Lots of people have been coming out of the woodwork to help us make this record a reality. I'm thrilled! In our first week "live" we've managed to raise more than half of our stated funding goal. It's pretty encouraging, but now the hard part begins. Our parents and closest friends have already contributed, so what do we do now? How do you keep up that kind of momentum? I'm seriously asking. I don't know. I have limited control over who actually even sees my Facebook updates - which is the "social media" format I'm most familiar with - and I resist the idea of spending my own cash (or worse, the cash of our early investors) to "boost" posts. Should I run a contest? There's apparently a way on Indiegogo to track who refers people to your page, and if they wind up investing, the referrer gets "credit&q

Visit our Indiegogo Campaign Page! So I've got the blog. I've got multiple webpages. I've got Facebook pages for me, my band, and our music school. I'm on LinkedIn and G+ and Twitter (and I'm trying to keep everything updated, with varying levels of success). Then we decided to do a crowdfunding campaign to raise funds for our new album. Setting up the actual Indiegogo campaign was pretty easy, actually. They have lots of online research and resources to set you up for success. I read (and watched) almost all of them. Their interface is pretty intuitive, and although you have limited control of the layout, it does create an attractive page. The video component gave me a bit more pause. Indiegogo campaigns do not  require  a video, but they make it pretty clear that without one, you're kind of shooting yourself in the foot. So I set out to make a pitch video. Now, I've always been a bit creeped out watching myself on video, so I haven't really s

This is my mom, Joyce (Reatherford) Pinckney. She was what I always used to call a "Professional tough act to follow." I'll get the sad news out of the way first. She passed away last month, and I miss her like crazy. But now for the good news. She remains a touchstone for everything I want to accomplish in the world. She exemplified the love of music that I want to inspire in my students and my audiences, and her celebration of life "party" was evidence of all the lives she touched; all the people who loved her, whether they'd known her for only a few months, or since they were 5 years old. I remember the students coming and going from our house, always thrilled with the new songs that Mom assigned for them to learn - especially when she started writing teaching music for them (and ultimately, publishing it)! One of her former students, now grown, even went home during the party, only to come back with a stack of her music that he played to entertain

So here we are, 2 weeks after arriving in Portland. I've been busy unpacking and organizing, setting up my office (otherwise known as the back half of the bedroom!) and setting myself random errands to run with the intention of starting to figure out how to get around this new city, in which I've hardly driven at all. (Adam knew his way around, so I mainly just "passengered.")  The list is extremely long of all the things we need to to - moving to another country is not for the faint of heart, people! Car stuff, drivers' licence stuff (which are 2 separate tasks), healthcare stuff, taxation stuff, cell phones and mailing lists and subscriptions, the list goes on... Not to mention the entirely different (but just as long) list of all the professional things we have to do: we have a record tracked and waiting for editing and production, websites, update contact information on, well, everything, get a job, (and probably another job), make a plan for private less

... I can't carry a tune in a bucket. ... my voice just sounds so terrible. ... I have to be really drunk, first. It makes me sad, frankly, to think that so many people will never know the sheer, unadulterated joy of singing out as loudly as they want to, for whomever may be in the vicinity, unselfconsciously and just because it feels good. And baby, it feels GOOD. So what makes us believe we can't sing, and what can we do about it? I believe music - making it as well as simply enjoying it - is as vital as physical activity to keep us sane and healthy. Imagine if we thought of exercise the same way we think about singing. I, for example, am pretty clumsy and have no hand/eye coordination, short legs and no gift at any sport I've ever tried. I'm not fast, I'm not terribly strong, and while I'm pretty competitive, that part of my nature is more directed at board games than field games.  But I know that being physically active is good for me, that s

I'm sure all musicians get this question, and those of us who perform mainly cover songs probably get it more than most! Fact is, that's one of the reasons I gravitated to cover bands in the first place. There's so much great material out there that I hate to choose! When I was a kid, my favourite singer, the one I wanted to emulate, was Linda Ronstadt. She wasn't the absolute best at anything, but it seemed like she sounded "right," whether she was singing country or jazz or pop, or even operetta. And that's what transfixed me. I wanted to be able to do a creditable job of every single vocal style I tried. I think I've done a pretty good job at that. In the last week, I've sung jazz standards, alt-country, disco, washy/sexy background vocals,  motown and rock & roll with various bands (who keep calling me to come back!) and I love every minute of it. What do I  like best, though? I still don't have a good answer. I love singing dis

I have immense love and respect for my "capital A Artist" friends who write such fascinating and creative and wonderful music (and sometimes let me sing it)!  And I'm intrigued by (albeit occasionally defensive about) the fact that I'm not really one of them. What I think is that there are 2 main categories: Artists and Performers.  I am staunchly in the latter camp.  I love being on stage, performing for and connecting with the audience.  For me, it's all about that connection.  The moment when the band and the crowd are like one organism - I live for the recognition applause for the arpeggio at the top of "I Will Survive" or the guitar riff that begins "Sweet Child of Mine".  I  get goosebumps when I hear people spontaneously begin singing along - sometimes even singing the harmonies - and it's an immense thrill to be able to hold out the microphone over the dancefloor and feel like a rock star while the audience takes over the chorus