Why I'm NOT Leaving Los Angeles. Just yet.

I came here with a backpack, two guitars, comic book character t-shirts, a short kilt and one killer track, five potential albums.

I came from playing pubs six nights a week, first in Edinburgh, then Glasgow.

I came from a publishing/recording contract with Zomba Music in London, and a newer deal with Yamaha Music that was just about to end.

Of course, there's more to it than music.

How I ended up in a deal with Richard Perry, whose birthday it is today. A legendary producer who recorded some of the greatest hits of the 70s and 80s with the likes of Harry Nilsson, Carly Simon, Leo Sayers, Barbra Streisand, and, of course, The Pointer Sisters.

My story feels so much like a fairy tale now when I relive it in my mind. But that's for another time.

Don't we all come to Los Angeles to pursue a dream? All I could imagine doing then was getting noticed, signed, and quickly hustled into a recording studio to make records.

And I did. What I didn't count on was the sale of Rondor (Herb Alpert and Jerry Moss's boutique publishing company) to the immense conglomerate Universal Music. I made a decision not to rejoin the company as a staff writer, and, instead, was fortunate enough to have a bit of cash to plunk down to buy a house and build my own recording studio.

But I think my story is not what is important here. How many of us believed our musical dream existed within a label, only to find ourselves dissatisfied, and having to go back to day jobs?

We've been living in the Los Angeles of Mergers and Massive Corporations, and we have had to reinvent. Many of us made our own studios, created our own products, found a way to book our own tours. We've called ourselves "Indies." We bought into the myth of Spotify as profitable for us eventually, only to learn that it was never going to keep our lights on.

We have learned to multi.

Am I sad that my two albums made at Rondor were never pitched? Of course.

I became a teacher, and ran my studio as a coach and instructor.

Covid isolated all of us even more, so finally, then, I had the opportunity to create my own album.

Finally, then, I connected to Zak Nilsson, online, which led me to The Roadhouse community, and then Fernando Perdomo, the Pied Piper of Performer/Producers.

Without really trying, I soon found myself post-Covid meeting the most incredible musicians. I had met icons in my UK experiences, but not as many truly great writers, players, singers, all around entertainers as I have met in Los Angeles.

Truth is: it's daunting. You are more apt to encounter talents than fans. Sometimes it feels almost everyone in Los Angeles is pursuing a creative path. You start to take for granted the idea that on your block there might be a screenwriter, set designer, stand-up comedian, award-winning blues artist and multi-instrumental producer.

Recently, I was chatting my my neighbor who is a sculptor. It seems many in our neighborhood are selling up and moving on. But my neighbor Tony said, "Uh no. we're not leaving."

And why? "We don't want to live in a red state, and other parts of California are too expensive. Besides, this is where the Creatives are."

That was a good reminder. For whatever it is that we put up with here, we have that reward. There are many like us. Who came to pursue an artistic dream, and are still at it, who will not give up. Who have given up a lot to follow that dream. Maybe they decided not to have a family. Maybe they are not pulling down a large income. But they are making things, and performing and connecting with other performers.

There's a certain kind of success to be had in simply sticking to your dream, believing it, even when you have not made a lot of money with it. If you've made a lot of community, some might say that is why you re far the richer.

And that is why I am sticking around.