Today we lay, Unsigned to rest. For so long he fueled our hopes and dreams to make it in this thing we call the Music Industry. We tried and worked so hard to free ourselves from being associated with you, Unsigned. Because of you, some of us signed some real fucked up contracts and damn near lost our souls and minds to remove your name from our artist’s bios.
It was because of you that I spent a fortune traveling from state to state, to bullshit music seminars, hoping that I’d get connected with someone that could free me from your iron grip. I walked around wearing all the badges from prior seminars as though they were medals of heroic bravery. I sat and listened attentively to A&Rs and former music execs on panels, who promised to give me the map that would eventually lead me to my freedom. Little did I know, that those maps would always lead me right back to you.
It was because of you, Unsigned, that I would stalk and harass record label CEOs, with my big stack of shiny press-kits in hand, and pounce on them from the bushes. “Here, listen to my demo!”, I would yell.
Sometimes I just made a damn fool out of myself for you, Unsigned. Like the time I sneaked up on L.A Reid one evening while he seemed to be enjoying a nice dinner with a beautiful young lady. I hid my boombox underneath my over-sized throwback jersey and performed my single right there in the restaurant, “Bitch I’m Bout My Money”.
Shortly after I was arrested for that that incident, I continued to spend a fortune on postage stamps and envelopes, mailing unsolicited press-kits and CDs to the addresses of every record label. They never called or wrote back. I paid to be in artists showcases when the promoter promised to have “label scouts”, looking for talent, in the audience. It was all bullshit. (sigh)
I’m not mad at you, Unsigned, and I hate to speak ill of the dead, but you should have told me that I could do this shit on my own and that I’d be better off if I learned the game. You could have saved me a shitload of money and the dignity of a lot of young girls who did some some wild shit in backrooms they’d like to forget. But I guess you needed a purpose and I can’t hate on you for that. How else would I know how sweet being Independent is without having gone through these years of gross denial.
Well, I will never forget you, Unsigned. You’ve inspired generations. Now we’ll gladly refer to ourselves as Independent and explore new horizons with a lot greater possibilities.
Thanks for the ride, G!
Feel free to leave your parting words
