Music in any capacity is hard to make a career out of, especially when it comes to DIY. Between practicing, recording and performing, a band takes up a lot of time. Then there’s the small matter of paying rent, buying food, taking care of bills — all the stuff that requires a day job.
So how does a DIY band like Fake My Death make it work?
The answer is an unbridled passion for their art. I’ve spoken to a lot of DIY artists, and they tend to say the same thing: Music is their main career, and they do whatever it takes to make it work. You’ll find them on the payroll at cafes, bicycle shops, high-end offices — everywhere.
Fake My Death are a band of musicians, yes. But they’re also a group of EMTs and one financier who dedicate hours of their already busy schedule to music.
- Vocalist/guitarist Victor Calvo: “I spend a lot of time at the station working on music. When you're doing everything yourself, you have to fit it in your lunch breaks.”
- Guitarist Cullen Huggard: “I do overnights, dayshifts and 24s, but basically I plan my schedule around any shows or practices we’re doing.”
- Bassist Charlie Heflin: “I exclusively work overnights. I usually get off at 6 or 7 in the morning and wake up at 3 on a good day. … I roll out of bed, smoke a cigarette and play guitar or do anything else music related that needs to be done.”
- Drummer Kevin Reed: “I work in a corporate office, and I’ve tried to work on music when I have a lull in my day, but I’ve gotten yelled at, so I try to do everything after work.”
The world is an expensive place, so it makes the pursuit of art a Goliath of a task. The reality every DIY musician needs to accept is that the “day job” is going to get in the way. But when you care so much about something, you find workarounds. You come down with a convenient cold. You beg co-workers who understand to pick up a shift. You find a balance.
It doesn’t take much, though, for things to tip too far in one direction or the other. Certain workplaces can make it difficult for artists to express themselves fully, as some places make certain conversation topics taboo to the point that it can make jobs difficult.
“Everyone in my team knows I’m in a band,” Reed said, “but I tell very few people about it because I know it’s kinda against the image of corporate America.”
DIY as a culture can be abrasive to some. It thrives in underground circles powered by instability, where strong political views thrive in the people and in the art. Anyone outside of these circles might not understand the catharsis that comes from a basement show. But what makes the culture shine is the unwillingness to conform.
“We have a pretty punk ethos,” Huggard said. “We’ve played politically driven shows and have said stuff on stage that maybe our jobs wouldn’t love, but I don’t really care.”
It’s to the point where getting reprimanded by a job for music can be a badge of honor — a clear demonstration of one’s own passion for their beliefs that's fueled by their art.
“I’m fully willing to get reprimanded at my job for things I do in my personal life,” Heflin said. “It hasn’t happened yet, but if it does … oh well, it’s worth it.”
Finding a personal balance with DIY music can be difficult, but what’s even harder is making the music without any “professional” means. Fake My Death record and practice in The Ring, a Walker’s Point warehouse that used to be a music venue but now acts as a rehearsal space and recording studio. It’s another hub of the Milwaukee DIY scene, with dozens of bands calling it home.
That’s how Fake My Death made it their musical home. Reed connected with fellow Milwaukee DIY’ers Bug Moment at a show, and they asked if he and his bandmates needed a practice space. Now they share the studio, along with other local groups like Diet Lite and Oh Well OK. It makes for a crowded house, but the point of sharing a studio is to split the rent and make everyone's lives easier.
Still, it isn’t the easiest to get to. To access the space, you walk through four doors in a narrow hallway on the side of a building. The place is an organized mess of equipment — guitar amps line the back wall, and the only desk in the room is covered in audio equipment. It’s an eclectic space with a unique mission, but the band makes it work.
“All the other bands have been super kind,” Heflin said. “It's been a great spot.”
The band experiments with different song structures and parts, with Calvo acting as the main producer. Building off each other to create a collective piece and with the help of audio equipment they purchased, the band creates dynamic tracks in the studio.
“We make music that we want to make. People can like us or not,” Huggard said. “It's one thing to make merch designs that cater to the fans, but ultimately it’s our music, not theirs.”
Recording, mixing and mastering is done whenever the band has the time. Because the DIY work ethic is one in which musicians produce their art between calls in an ambulance or at the end of a 9 to 5, in a practice/recording space shared with other bands and musicians just like them — a collection of people just waiting for an opportunity.
Jonathan Joseph is a Milwaukee-based multimedia freelance journalist who specializes in art and culture writing (and all things Milwaukee), with work appearing on Radio Milwaukee and in Milwaukee Magazine. Contact him via email or find him on LinkedIn.