It always does. I had to wipe my hard disk and reinstall everything. It’s happened before. I was having some Java problems. It must have been a virus that broke my registry. My virus software got the virus, but the damage remained. I’ve done the “reinstall Windows” thing before. I backed up everything, especially the files for my new album. I’ve been backing them up religiously since the start of the project, but I did it again. I could stand to lose anything, except for all of my hard work.

The reinstall went very well. I got everything back up and running in a reasonable amount of time. I reinstalled all of my applications and everything seems to be working better than before. My Java problem has been solved. I was opening some session files on Saturday. Yes, all the plug-ins were there. Everything worked. Except…

I got a message about missing files on “She Doesn’t Love You.” The song was done, awaiting a final mix. “BU Vocal1.wav is missing.” Do I want to leave it offline and continue? Umm… ok. Another message. “BUVocal2.wav is missing.” Do I want to leave it offline and continue? Uh oh. It seems that all of the vocals for that song are missing. The tambourine is missing too. It’s missing from all of my backups too. How could this be?

I’ll tell you how. For that one session, my multitrack program was pointed to its default folder on my primary hard disk. I never record to my primary hard disk. I have a secondary one for my audio work. The primary hard disk is too busy doing Windows stuff. It’s a better idea to put audio files somewhere else. I have a folder on the secondary audio disk for every song I’m working on. Periodically, I back those folders up to another machine entirely.

That’s why my vocals and tambourine are now gone forever. They were never in the proper place to begin with. They were recorded inadvertently to the primary hard disk, which was wiped completely in the reinstallation. Had I not had such a fast computer, I might have noticed, but it didn’t even hiccup.

It took a long time for the reality of the situation to sink in. For the rest of the day, the notion of what happened would revisit my consciousness and I’d get panicked all over again. But without a doubt, the vocals and tambourine parts would have to be re-recorded. I was planning on doing the “True Star” vocal over again, but I was pretty happy with “She Doesn’t Love You.” It doesn’t matter. One step forward, two steps back. No point in getting upset about it.

I started to think about how it would be if I were working in a big studio with a huge budget. How many people would’ve gotten fired for this? I’d have led the crusade, to be sure. But it was just a stupid accident. I’ve read stories about second engineers on big records screwing up and erasing keeper tracks or somehow laying hours of work to waste in a second of carelessness. Funny, I never thought it would be me.

I have to believe that this happened for a reason. (If I didn’t, it would be far more distressing.) Maybe I have an even better performance in me. I have the rough mix render to keep me warm, but that’s the only place anyone will ever hear the first shot at that vocal.

The days of believing that someone who’s better at it than I am will eventually come along and promote me and my music are long gone. It isn’t that I’ve resigned myself to any notion that great success has eluded me. Far from it. However, I know that the responsibility is mine in a way that I don’t think I’ve ever completely embraced before. In many ways, I dreaded promotional tasks because in the back of my mind was always the nagging concern that I didn’t know how to promote myself very well. I thought of every industry gatekeeper (which is a term I’m choosing to use for anyone who could give me something I wanted, like gigs) as another person I had to fake out in order to get closer to my goals. It was a terrible way to live and work, but I picked up the habit somewhere. I think I’ve broken it fairly well now. At this stage of my life, I’m stimulated by the potentials and not so fixated on the drudgery of self-promotion.

As an independent musician, I read as much as I can find on the subject of marketing your music. I occasionally read an online forum in which other musicians supposedly in the same game post frequently. I find however, that I’m rarely moved to post to these boards. It hardly ever results in a helpful interchange. This forum has a section for everything from guitars independent music distribution. It also has what I consider to be some of the most negative energy I’ve observed anywhere. Forums are like that. It’s full of people who post messages and responses from their own tiny little piece of experience. They routinely answer honest questions about gigs and independent recording with phrases like, “Take it from me, you’ll never be able to…” fill in the blank. They feel that they’ve been beaten down so hard. They try to vindicate themselves by posting messages with bittersweet resignation, disguised as advice.

I’m thinking in particular of one frequent poster, who was relieved that a recent crash of the site didn’t wipe out the posting tally under his username, which was pushing some ridiculous number like 19,000. He’s a depressive sort who has not had the success he hoped for when he was younger. His picture, which he uses as an avatar, is a somber face with a vacant stare. It looks like a cell phone picture, in black and white. Christ, that poor bastard needs some therapy.

I’ve had some tough times in music. I think everybody must. It’s a difficult vocation. Never once have I tried to console myself by claiming that I’ll never make it, but that I’ve decided to try and enjoy it anyway. It never occurred to me. Isn’t it just as consoling to believe that your best work is ahead of you and that success can be had if you design it for yourself? I like that so much better. I’d rather try something new to sell my records than waste precious hours posting 19,00 times to an internet discussion forum.