The Release Party

When I look back, ten or twenty years from now, on my time living in China, I'll likely have retained various long-term memories about my experience abroad, grappling with the culture and language, the eclectic assortment of people I met, and the infinitely enticing travel opportunities of which I was able to take advantage.  These larger thematic memories tend to stick, with specific, singular, watershed events sprinkled throughout our recollection of yesteryear, in decreasing quantity as they fade away over time.  This Friday night was, I think, one such watershed moment.  It was The Horde's debut album release party at 390 Bar in Shanghai.  At the risk of hyperbole and cliche (that disclaimer should accompany this entire post, now that I think about it), it was an evening I will not soon, if ever, forget.

Since "officially" becoming the manager of the band at the beginning of 2013, I've developed a profound sense of ownership of my role in our little musical family.  Even though my managerial title is sort of silly -- my Rolodex of contacts in the musical scene here in China isn't nearly full enough to really call myself a "manager", though that is starting to change -- I do think the guys genuinely appreciate my unbridled enthusiasm for the music along with my eagerness to help with the logistic and financial side of the operation.  I have, from the very beginning, felt like a welcome member of the team.  Recently, I've even started saying "my band" or "we" when referring to the Horde's various conquests and exploits.

At the same time, the Horde has been around for a while -- three years, to be exact.  They've written over thirty original songs, and have performed them at various venues around Shanghai, the surrounding suburbs, Beijing, and even Mongolia.  They've been in the process of recording several EP projects for over a year.  The vast majority of their oeuvre and success was founded long before I came onto the scene.  Because of this, I've been eager to assume as much responsibility for the band's present activities as I can, particularly considering I won't be living here forever.

I therefore inserted myself directly helping to produce and releasing of "Considering Yourselves Conquered," the Horde's first studio album.  This process, which took over a year of recording, mixing, and mastering (none of which I was around for), as well as the designing and printing of the album copies themselves (which I negotiated with a production company in Shenzhen), culminated in an album release show this Friday night.

The week leading up to the show was marked with palpable twinges of anxiety and self-consciousness on the part of the band.  We had 1,000 album copies printed - when they arrived, and we all realized what 1,000 CD cases actually looks like, we were blown away.  There was no way we would ever be able to sell (or even give away) all of them!  We had decided to eschew an opening band at our show -- most music gigs in Shanghai of this ilk have at least two, if not several bands -- so that we could have time to play 3 full sets ourselves.  Were people really going to show up for over 2 hours of Horde music, without any other bands?  We had set the ticket price at 50 RMB (about $8.50), which is on the high end for this type of show, and even though we were throwing in a free copy of the album, the guys convinced themselves (and me) that the price would deter people from coming.  Even though all of us had gotten the word out to friends and various event websites, and had a lot of good press leading up to the show (interviews and music reviews), all of us, I think, arrived at the bar for sound check on Friday night with a slight sense of impending doom.  Images of an audience of only 10 people, half of them significant others of the band whose attendance was required by relationship laws, flitted through our minds.  The Horde has played sparsely attended shows before, and it didn't matter.  But for the album release party?  We wanted it to be epic.

And it was.  The pre-show jitters were entirely unwarranted.  Before they played a single song, the bar was abuzz with congratulatory hugs and anticipatory cheer.  Dozens of people flowed in, most of them friends and colleagues, but more than a few new faces as well.  And when I stepped on stage to introduce the band (the manager agreed to say a few words as the manager to kick off the show), people actually left the bar area and crowded the stage and dance floor to listen.

Halfway through the first set, Tom, the guitarist, broke two of his strings.  This happens to him literally all the time (something we give him a lot of shit for...he brings a whole knew meaning to the term "shredding a guitar"), so he was prepared with spare strings.  But it necessitated a fifteen minute lull in the show, risking the amazing energy that had been pumping through the room since the first song.  But the audience didn't budge.  Some got drinks, some made conversation, but all  of them just waiting for the band to start playing again.  We had expected people to leave after the first set, to carry on with their nights elsewhere rather than spend the entire night in one place.  Nobody left.  By the end of the show, some three hours later (that only felt like 45 minutes), you got the feeling that the crowd would've stayed for at least another hour.

All told, over 250 people came to the show on Friday.  The proceeds from the ticket price paid for the entire cost of the album printing...twice (we had hoped to just break even).  But far more important than the money (even to me, the Suit) was the euphoria that dominated the room for the entire night.  The Horde's music -- a combination of folk and bluegrass -- is incredibly easy to listen to.  It is happy, and optimistic, and fun -- proven on Friday night by the dozens of people who came primarily just to show support, and who ended up toe-tapping and head bobbing throughout the performance.  Normally, I take a lot of pictures a

For the five Horde members -- only one of whom, Nick, is a full-time musician (he plays for several other bands, and only occasionally with us) -- it was a night celebrating three years of playing music together.  None of them has earned any money for their efforts.  All proceeds from shows in the past have gone towards band-related endeavors, as will the roughly $2,000 we made on Friday night.  They do it because they genuinely love it, and that is apparent in their music.

For me, it was a humbling reminder of the pride that comes from seeing friends succeed, and have hard work pay off.  It offered sobering evidence of how lucky I am to be bouncing around the world, living in a place where strangers become close friends in literally seconds, and how a guy with virtually no business or music experience can become the manager of a bona fide band of talented musicians in less than six months.  There's a very good chance I won't be here in another six months.  Shanghai was never a long-term solution; it was always just part of the ride.  There are times, Friday night being one of the more powerful, when I'm just floored by the whole thing.  I'll look back at the release party at 390 one day, and not be able to remember how I ended up there.  But be pretty darn happy that I did.

Franco and Tom (from left to right) in the foreground.  Johnny, sitting on the cajon drum between them, and Nick on the accordion to the left.  Not pictured is George, standing to the right of Tom, wailing away on his harmonica.

For those interested, the album is available (for free) online here (I'm listed in the thank you section, as "Pajama Josh.")