tag:alytadros.com,2005:/blogs/it-all-works-out-even-when-it-doesn-t?p=2My Blog2018-12-07T14:11:51-05:00Aly Tadrosfalsetag:alytadros.com,2005:Post/55443772018-11-06T14:05:00-05:002018-12-07T14:11:51-05:00My First Longform Feature: Recovery in The Lifestyle <p>When I first took the internship at Narratively, I promised myself I'd use my time there to inch my way out of my comfort zone and write stories that challenged my skill set. So, I was beyond thrilled when my editors greenlit my first reported feature, and by "thrilled" I mean completely terrified. I spent three months researching, interviewing and compulsively eating chocolate-covered espresso beans for the story, and last month, Narratively published it. I couldn't be more proud or grateful to the brave recovering addicts who shared their stories with me. <br><br><strong>Read it <a contents="here." data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="https://narratively.com/this-12-step-group-meets-in-the-basement-of-a-fetish-shop/" target="_blank">here.</a></strong></p>
<p>Special thanks to my editor Brendan Spiegel and Lilly Dancyger for the moral support. And of course, my fiance Ben, for changing my social media passwords so I actually got the thing done.</p>Aly Tadrostag:alytadros.com,2005:Post/55443782018-10-15T14:10:00-04:002018-12-07T14:10:28-05:00The Narratively Piece That Triggered an International Investigation<p>This fall, I had the pleasure of chatting with Reema Zaman, author of <em>I Am Yours </em>(Jan 2019, Amberjack Press). Reema's voice is brave, elegant, and more important than ever. It's one I strive for in my own writing. <br><br>While the interview is exclusive to Narratively Patrons, her story is a powerful one. You can learn more about Reema, her upcoming memoir, and the story she published for Narratively <a contents=" here.&nbsp;" data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="https://narratively.com/how-this-metoo-piece-triggered-an-international-investigation/" target="_blank">here.</a></p>Aly Tadrostag:alytadros.com,2005:Post/52875792018-06-10T15:12:37-04:002018-06-10T15:12:37-04:00Modern Love<p>Last week, I quietly celebrated 5 years of sobriety. </p>
<p>When I first quit drinking, I was totally burnt from the road–depressed, uninspired and at a loss for where my life was headed. I wanted to keep in touch with folks but also needed a break. So instead of touring, I started writing essays. Short stories I sent to my mailing list once a month, usually about lessons I'd learned on tour. It turned out I liked writing, and people seemed to like my writing, too. Enough so, that I continued doing it – I joined a writing workshop and even started pitching my work to blogs. </p>
<p>Last fall I went back to college to finish my undergrad and study writing in earnest. My first week of class, <a contents="my professor " data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="http://www.candyschulman.com/" target="_blank">my professor</a> gave us a challenge: Write about a thing we did that shocked or surprised us. I knew what that thing was for me–and the idea of writing publicly about it totally freaked me out. And so I did. </p>
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/232921/2eb34d86983975f5a5554649f598d04f2f30d3ce/original/unnamed.jpg/!!/b:W1sic2l6ZSIsIm1lZGl1bSJdXQ==.jpg" class="size_m justify_left border_" />Today, that story was published in The New York Times Modern Love column. I couldn't be more proud or giddy. <a contents="Read it here.&nbsp;" data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="https://www.nytimes.com/2018/06/08/style/modern-love-i-wanted-to-be-dominated-but-not-quite-like-that.html" target="_blank">Read it here. </a></p>
<p>Five years ago I couldn't have imagined this, but I didn't have to. I just needed to focus on doing the next right thing. The rest unfolded, a day at a time. I'm so grateful. Thank you all for cheering me on for every (literal and figurative) step along the way.<br><br> </p>Aly Tadrostag:alytadros.com,2005:Post/51825612018-03-29T01:55:00-04:002018-12-06T15:04:14-05:00Lay off of Lena<p>Fun fact: March is Endometriosis Awareness Month. Less fun fact: I have it, and it's not a party. <br><br>Earlier this month, Vogue published an essay by Lena Dunham about her decision to have a full hysterectomy (she's also got the endo). When I mentioned this to my partner, he groaned, because well...Lena Dunham. I get it, she's a polarizing figure. Her show was problematic on a number of levels. But, in response to her story, several news outlets responded by calling her decision irrational. And ill-informed. And <em>that </em>pissed me off. <br><br>So I wrote this essay. It was just published by 12th Street Journal. Read it <a contents="here.&nbsp;" data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="http://www.12thstreetonline.com/lay-off-of-lena/" target="_blank">here. </a></p>Aly Tadrostag:alytadros.com,2005:Post/51825662018-03-19T02:05:00-04:002018-04-15T02:01:45-04:00Interview with Danelle Morton <p>My very first interview as the Nonfiction editor at the 12th Street Journal came out this month! It's an interview with Danelle Morton, ghostwriter of Donna Brazile's "Hacks." <br><br>Read it <a contents="here.&nbsp;" data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="http://www.12thstreetonline.com/a-conversation-with-danelle-morton/" target="_blank">here. </a></p>Aly Tadrostag:alytadros.com,2005:Post/50792472017-10-17T13:45:00-04:002018-02-14T13:42:28-05:00Changes<p>I realized today just how long it's been since I posted any sort of official update. Folks have been reaching out to ask about new shows, and I thought now would be a good time to share where I am, and where I'm headed. </p>
<p>I've spent the last ten years of my life on tour. It's been an incredible journey, meeting fans and friends and being able to share my music on all corners of the planet, and one that I'm grateful for. Around this time last year, I realized I was feeling complacent. My drive to promote shows and write new music had dwindled, and instead, I was curious about pursuing other interests. Namely, writing. </p>
<p>After "Hungry Ghost" released worldwide, I decided to apply to a few colleges in the New York area. I dropped out ten years ago, and thought now I'd grown up and changed enough to finally be able to appreciate what an education might do. I took a few writing workshops at Hunter, and absolutely fell in love with the process. </p>
<p>This summer I was amazed to find out I'd been offered a scholarship to the Riggio Honors Program for Writing & Democracy at The New School. I accepted it, and wholeheartedly, I can say it's one of the best things I've done for myself in a long time. </p>
<p>I play to write non-fiction, and in the meantime, I'm still studying and creating music. Shows will be less frequent than they were in the past, but they will come. My heart is still in storytelling, and songwriting is where I learned it first. </p>
<p>I hope to continue posting my essays here, and through the newsletter (if you haven't already, sign up at the top of this page). There should be a major overhaul of the website coming soon. As always, thank you for all your support and encouragement. I know how lucky I am to be in this position at all, and if you're reading this now, there's a good chance you've played some part it in. </p>
<p>Sending lots of love, <br>Aly</p>Aly Tadrostag:alytadros.com,2005:Post/46346392017-03-10T17:10:00-05:002018-12-07T13:58:23-05:00Smaller Waves<p>Get knocked down enough, and one of two things will happen: you'll either get stronger, or end up with full on concussion. </p>
<p>For me, the making of Hungry Ghost was a little bit of both. </p>
<p>When Kevin and I decided to make the record we had a plan, and hypothetically, a way to fund it. I still had a huge wave of obstacles to get past. There was the monumental cost. To produce the kind of record we wanted, I’d need to raise at least $20,000 to cover our expenses. Then there were endless logistics: prepping the crowdfunding campaign, reaching out to hundreds of people, prepping the artwork and release shows. Never mind the task of actually MAKING the damn thing. </p>
<p>I wasn't sure I'd be able to pull it off, but I believed it was worth trying. </p>
<p>And so, like a horse with blinders on, I got to work. I met with Kevin in his old apartment on Ludlow Street, and on an old parlour guitar, thumbed through the songs I’d hoarded for three years. I introduced half of them haphazardly, often saying something along the lines of “I don't know if this is going to work, buuuuut…” </p>
<p>This is pretty much how I took on every step along the way: “Print vinyl in Germany? Could be a massive failure! Mechanical beats? Well, you only live once! Ask my boss to advance me 7K and slowly work it off over the next year?! Fuck it, what could possibly go wrong!” </p>
<p>But on that dusty afternoon in Kevin’s apartment, something in me bloomed. I’d finish a song, and he would jump in, brimming with ideas for production. Some were great, like,“Hey! Let’s layer in strings at the chorus.” Others...not so much: “HEY! Try that one again, but this time pretend you're Miley Cyrus!” </p>
<p>The point is, he was invested. He believed in the project. That gave me enough hope to trudge through my discomfort. </p>
<p>Recording in Woodstock felt like a dream. I sat in my little vocal booth at Applehead Studios, perched on a stool, guitar in my lap, brimming with joy. I remember Kevin apologizing before asking me to play a song for like the seventh take and me thinking “I could do this 100 more times.” </p>
<p>After three full days of recording, I drove back to Brooklyn, exhausted and happy. What I remember most is calling my mom from the interstate, and crying. Relieved. I still had a lot to figure out, but for the first time in years, I felt like I was exactly where I was supposed to be. </p>
<p>I wish I could say I’ve sustained that feeling since, but the truth is, I still struggle. I sometimes go weeks without writing a song I’m proud of. I have days where I get yet another rejection letter and feel like all I do is bang my head against the oh-my-god-i-hate-the-music-business wall. </p>
<p>It reminds me of a little anecdote the Buddhist teacher Trungpa Rinpoche once told: </p>
<p>“It’s a lot like walking into the ocean, and a big wave comes and knocks you over,” he said. “And you find yourself lying on the bottom with sand in your nose and in your mouth. And you are lying there, and you have a choice. You can either lie there, or you can stand up and start to keep walking out to sea.” </p>
<p>“The waves keep coming,” he said. “And you keep cultivating your courage and bravery and sense of humor to relate to this situation of the waves, and you keep getting up and going forward.” </p>
<p>I’ve realized that there is no arriving. No finish line. I’m not going to wake up one day and magically be cured of my insecurities. I believe my insecurities show me the way. Incidentally, it seems that the things that bring me the most joy are often the things that scare me the most. </p>
<p>Trungpa continued on, “After a while, it will begin to seem to you that the waves are getting smaller. And they won’t knock you over anymore.” </p>
<p>My job is to get up every morning and walk towards those waves. </p>
<p>With so much love love, <br>Aly </p>
<p>P.S. After the record was finished, we raised enough money to do a live, acoustic recording of the album. The goal was to make a version of Hungry Ghost with the same feel as my solo show. I'm so happy to be able to share it with you now. <a contents="Get your copy of Hungry Ghost (acoustic), available now." data-link-label="" data-link-type="album" href="/album/496964/hungry-ghost-acoustic" target="_blank">Get your copy of Hungry Ghost (acoustic), available only on Bandcamp now.</a></p>Aly Tadrostag:alytadros.com,2005:Post/46188542017-01-27T16:05:00-05:002017-03-06T17:03:33-05:00LADYGUNN Video Premiere: Aly Tadros "This Is How You Lose Her"<p><em>story originally written for Ladygunn. read the full story <a contents="here" data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="http://ladygunn.com/music/ladygunn-video-premiere-aly-tadros-this-is-how-you-lose-her" target="_blank">here</a>.</em></p>
<p> </p>
<div style="position:relative;height:0;padding-bottom:56.25%"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="360" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/Y-OjzK5qn5U?rel=0&controls=0&showinfo=0?ecver=2" style="position:absolute;width:100%;height:100%;left:0" width="640"></iframe></div>
<p> </p>
<p><br>Ever want something you thought you’d never have? </p>
<p>I have, more times than I can count. </p>
<p>In April of last year I was opening for Louise Goffin at the Union County Performing Arts Center in Rahway, New Jersey. I’ve played some nice rooms over the years, but none like this. I stepped out onto the stage for sound check, took a long look at the theatre’s vaulted ceilings, tiered chandeliers and absolutely fell in love. Never mind that it’s a 1600-seater, and I usually play 250 capacity rooms, tops. The only reason I’m here is because I’m opening for Louise, and all I want to do is figure out how to come back. A voice in my head tells me I will shoot a music video here. Another voice tells me to eat a case of sour patch kids. </p>
<p>In that moment, I had not even written the song, but didn’t give the “how” much thought. I know better now. My entire music career has been built on seemingly impossible dreams. </p>
<p>Ten years before I stepped on stage in Rahway, I sat in my boyfriend’s living room in Austin, Texas fiddling with my acoustic guitar. I’d just started learning Mirah’s “Archipelago,” and was stumbling through the chords, trying to impress him. I kept fucking up. Slowing down to try and remember the next chord, hitting the wrong notes, and then apologizing. Long, dumb silences while I cursed and corrected myself. Feeling my face grow hot. </p>
<p>“It’s okay,” he told me, “maybe when you’re on stage, it’ll just be your thing. Long, slow pauses in the middle of songs. It could be cool.” </p>
<p>Pffft. I could barely even hold a guitar upright, much less play it. I knew the opening riff to Nirvana’s “Come as You Are” and that was pretty much it. He referred to me on stage as casually as he’d ask me to pass the salt, and I thought he was nuts. I was a college kid, not a musician. Music was something other, more courageous people did. I couldn’t even muster up the discipline to get through a simple tune without freaking out. </p>
<p>Though I didn’t have much guitar prowess, I did have enough going on in my life that I had to get my feelings out. That boyfriend and I broke up, and a few nights after, I stayed up late and spilled all my frustration into my first song. I played it for my sister, and she actually liked it. So I played it for a friend and then tried an open mic. A few weeks later I met with Alexis, my first songwriting and voice teacher. After having me play every song I’d written (all three of them), she told me I was going to record an album. Since I was paying her good money to tell me what to do, I wrote down the list of tasks she gave me, anxiety bubbling up in the pit of my stomach. </p>
<p>“You know any graphic designers? Great! Call them.” She told me. “You should aim to write another 10 songs.” </p>
<p>I had no idea if I was going to be able to pull any of it off, but nodded anyways. She promised me all I had to do was follow the steps she laid out, one by one. </p>
<p>“Oh and next we’ll book your first show.” </p>
<p>Fuck, I thought. Maybe it won’t be so bad and by the time we get a gig I’ll have written a lot more songs and practiced and everything will be fine? </p>
<p>A week later, I’d booked my first gig. It was a two-hour set, and I figured my three songs would get old if I just played them, over and over. So I pieced together a band, wrote another few songs, and learned enough covers to make up the difference. I was a musician. </p>
<p>read the rest of the story on <a contents="LadyGunn.com" data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="http://ladygunn.com/music/ladygunn-video-premiere-aly-tadros-this-is-how-you-lose-her" target="_blank">LadyGunn.com</a></p>Aly Tadrostag:alytadros.com,2005:Post/45258942016-12-26T11:53:55-05:002018-04-19T07:43:37-04:00How To Make A Million DollarsThere’s a joke in the music business that goes something like this:<br><br>Q: How do you make 1 million dollars in music?<br><br>A: Start with 2 million.<br><br>I hate that joke.<br><br>Early on in my career, it was easy to avoid talking about money, because money was so seldom involved. I played for drink tickets, dinner discounts and to impress the cute guy at the bar. If money came in, it was a bonus. I just didn’t like talking about it. So when, last year, I was invited to speak alongside industry folks on a panel about crowdfunding, I was a little uncomfortable. I’d barely scraped through my last crowdfunding campaign (let’s just say it wasn’t a coincidence that my top donor and boyfriend had the same initials). I was afraid I’d make an ass of myself in front a room full of strangers. Naturally, I said yes.<br><br><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/232921/40d2f960e11470cbe141e3b81d5fb204a277d2cf/medium/eadd3442-1813-4c95-952b-5310fce56229.jpeg?1482878584" class="size_m justify_right border_" />The day of the conference, something in me changed. I stepped onto the stage, and looking out into the audience of hopeful musicians, I decided I’d resist the urge to feel small. Sitting next to Benji Rogers, the founder PledgeMusic, I engaged the crowd in a conversation about storytelling, creating and connection. “What’s normal for you is amazing to others.” Benji said, “What artists don’t realize is the value in the process. People want to know how an album is created. They care about the creative process. Crowdfunding is a way of sharing it with them. This isn’t charity. It’s collaboration.”<br><br>Within ten minutes Benji had taken everything I believed about money and music, and turned it on it’s head. After the panel, I chased him down in the wings of the auditorium.<br><br>“I think I’m ready to make a record.” I told him.<br><br>“Great! Let’s set up a meeting.” he replied.<br><br>A few weeks later, we met at Pledgemusic’s 5th-story Manhattan office. Over chocolate-chip cookies, we compared the arc of our careers, and how the campaign would run. Within days, I was on the phone with their artist relations team, mapping out the process. I’d already contacted the producer from my first two records. He was a safe bet. I liked working with him. None of this 40K record bullshit. It made perfect sense. That was, until I hopped on the phone with Scott, Pledge’s Artist Relations rep.<br><br>“Why would you record all the way out in Georgia? You live in New York! I know this guy out in Woodstock, I think he would be perfect for you.<br><br>I was uncomfortable. My old producer was already onboard. Don’t rock the boat, Aly.<br><br>In the world of songwriter-album-making, producers are kind of like musical doulas. They keep the vision and end-goal of the record in mind, and then very kindly, very lovingly guide you through one of the most emotionally trying cluster fucks of your creative career. For the sensitive, insecure artist, making an album is a little like playing Operation with a set of salad tongs. But in the end, if all goes as planned, you have a beautiful, shiny baby to show off to all your friends on Instagram. Still, something told me to trust Scott, so I did.<br><br>Within hours Kevin and I were emailing music references back and forth. I emailed him MP3’s of my music, and he immediately set up a meeting to talk about making a record together. We never talked about money.<br><br>A few days later, at a coffee shop in lower Manhattan, we talked about our favorite producers, recording styles, songwriting. I asked Kevin how much he would need to make the kind of record we wanted to do.<br><br>“We will make it work. Whatever you can raise, I can work with. I want to make this record.”<br><br>I’d found my guy. Now I just needed to pay for the damn thing.<p dir="" ltr="">To be continued... Aly</p>
<p dir="" ltr="">PS. Hungry Ghost is out NOW! To help celebrate the release, I'm sharing stories about the album. This is part 4 of 5.<br><br>On Tuesday, December 20, catch me on Facebook Live at PASTE Magazine's studios, performing a few of my favorites from the new album. Starts at 2pm <a href="" https:="" pastemagazine="" www.facebook.com="">HERE</a>.<br><br><strong>The best way to help now would be to buy or review the record on iTunes. You can do that <a album="" href="" https:="" hungry-ghost="" id1167875871="" itunes.apple.com="" mn="">here</a>.</strong></p>Aly Tadrostag:alytadros.com,2005:Post/45258952016-12-14T11:55:00-05:002016-12-27T17:45:33-05:00Setting the bar low.<span style="" font-weight:="">For the first time in six months, I felt at ease</span><span style="" font-weight:=""> </span><span style="" font-weight:=""> </span><span style="" font-weight:="">I was alone on my mother’s balcony.<br><br>It was 72 degrees, a bright April afternoon in South Texas.<br><br>The yard below me full and lush, with orange and purple bougambias roped around the columns that led up to her bedroom window. </span><span style="" font-weight:=""> </span><span style="" font-weight:=""> </span><span style="" font-weight:="">I’d just finished a cross-country trip down to Laredo to replace my Texas plates (apparently I’m still in denial about being a New Yorker). By the time I’d arrived in my hometown my mom was on vacation, so I decided to enjoy the house alone.<br><br>I told everyone my plan was to use the time to write. What they didn’t know was that I hadn’t finished a song in almost half a year. </span><span style="" font-weight:=""> </span><span style="" font-weight:=""> </span><span style="" font-weight:="">Secretly, I was petrified. I knew this trip would be a test of my will, and focus. The house was amazing, but most of my memories included booze-filled trips home from college, a suitcase stacked with books I never touched, for the papers I never wrote. Instead of studying, I’d go clubbing or watch Grey’s Anatomy reruns all day, only emerging from my room to grab stacks of Oreos.<br><br>To me, the house (and it’s endless supply of liquor and carbs) was dangerous. </span><span style="" font-weight:=""> </span><span style="" font-weight:=""> </span><span style="" font-weight:="">This time, I thought, could be different.<br><br>I was almost two years sober. As far as my writing was concerned, I’d basically given up hope. So I didn’t have much to lose.</span><br><br><span style="" font-weight:="">My plan was to keep it simple: I’d exercise each morning, getting out of bed early enough so that I didn’t sleep through the afternoon. I’d write and read in the afternoons, and go to AA meetings at night. I picked up heaps of fruits and vegetables right after arriving in town; avoiding the Oreos, potato chips, and ice cream. Foods that, given a bad writing session, could send me straight into a binge-spiral.</span><br><br><span style="" font-weight:="">I had to set the bar low. No worrying about the album: that stress had paralyzed me up until this point. So I joined an online songwriting group with some friends from Austin.<br><br>Each week, we’d get a phrase and have to write a song that included it. The expectation being that we would scramble to put the songs together, emailing them in minutes before the deadline. That is, to say, we were expected to suck. Our first song assignment kicked off the week I got to Laredo. </span><span style="" font-weight:=""> </span><span style="" font-weight:=""> </span><span style="" font-weight:="">Sitting alone on the balcony, I pulled my old Gibson acoustic onto my lap. The one I’d bought with money scraped together from three hour brunch gig’s at family restaurant’s and glorified McDonald’s all around central Texas.</span><br><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/232921/dc133033f7c6b8314d5102a1ec581599f32dff62/medium/15337602-10155484350915830-7077021520011205227-n.jpg?1482878705" class="size_m justify_right border_" /><br><span style="" font-weight:="">I looked down at my legal pad at the phrase for the week: “stomping through puddles”. I stumbled around on the guitar for thirty minutes, searching for a melody, and writing down lines just to scratch them out again. </span><i><span font-weight:="" style="">Woof.</span></i><span style="" font-weight:=""> I thought. </span><i><span font-weight:="" style="">Useless. </span></i><span style="" font-weight:="">I took a break and headed to the shower. Then, out of nowhere, the clear image of a well-driller I’d seen along the highway popped into my head. It struck me in that quiet way that inspiration does, like a puzzle piece you know belongs, but not sure where. I jolted out of the shower, water still running, and grabbed my phone to record the idea. </span><span style="" font-weight:=""> </span> <span style="" font-weight:="">I dried off, went back to the balcony and made a deal with myself: this song would not be great. It probably wouldn’t even be good.<br><br>But for the first time in six months, I would finish.</span><br><br><span style="" font-weight:="">Six hours later, I had.<br><br>Then, amazingly, I started another: blissed out, and completely engrossed in my guitar.<br><br>At 9pm on a Tuesday, I stood alone in my mom’s kitchen belting out lines. </span> <span style="" font-weight:="">Alone in that house, nothing else mattered.<br><br>The producer’s criticism, my friends who were posting about selling out shows, the album that might never get finished. Nothing existed but the lines of words right in front of me. As long as I let go of everything else, I could just focus on the work: and when I let myself work, I was happy.</span><br><br><span style="" font-weight:="">I got through the week without breaking any of the promises I’d made to myself: no binging, no purging, no drinking.<br><br>I never even turned on the tv. It was a tiny miracle. <span font-weight:="" style=""> </span><span font-weight:="" style=""> </span>I was writing again.</span>Aly Tadrostag:alytadros.com,2005:Post/45258962016-12-02T11:55:00-05:002018-12-07T14:05:41-05:00If at first you don’t succeed, fail. Fail again.<p>I lost my job.<br><br>It was ideal. My highest paying babysitting job ever - $25/hr - all to look after a 4 year-old girl twenty minutes from my apartment. I’d even managed to convince her parents to delay my start date so I could finish my artist-in-residence in LA.<br><br>Basically, I got cocky. High off of my big songwriting showcase in LA, I wrote them a week before the job started, demanding I work less hours. Thursdays I’m good until 5:30, but every other Tuesday I’ve got to be out by 6. I blamed my new kerfuffled schedule on creative writing classes I hadn’t even signed up for yet.<br><br>The day before I flew home to New York, after not having earned a single dollar for a straight month, they emailed me. It’s not going to work out, they told me.<br><br><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/232921/e663a011dd353e86fcba68b07c1659252a7e039e/medium/aly-beach.png?1482878764" class="size_m justify_right border_" />Ok. Don’t panic. I thought. This is perfect! NOW you can focus on the new record.<br><br>Which is precisely when Dave, the producer, called, and told me the songs I’d just spent the past two years writing were not going to cut it.<br><br>Faaaahhkkk.<br><br>Everywhere I looked, it seemed like some self-help guru was trying to tell me to fail my way to the top. “Fail more, fail harder, fail often”.<br><br>What nobody ever tells you is that failure sucks.<br><br>Freshly unemployed, broke, and humbled, I took a staycation. Which, in reality just meant I needed a way of justifying my frequent day-trips to the beach on Facebook. I spent several chilly September afternoons on Coney Island, alone, staring at my toes in the sand. What now? I thought. Read a book? Eat ice cream?<br><br>I slept in until 1PM, soothing myself through long afternoons with Cookies N’ Cream and Law & Order reruns. I continued sharing stories about my career online, but meanwhile, was struggling to write songs. Instead of motivating me, the talk I’d had with Dave just confirmed everything I’d ever thought about my writing: I was a hack and a faker. After expenses, I could barely scrape together enough money to buy avocados. How the hell did I expect to come up with 40k?!<br><br>I tried getting up early each day to do twenty minutes of songwriting. With every new line, I heard Dave’s voice in my head: your metaphors need work. Your writing is too literal. Listen to ""GRAMMY AWARD Winning Artist” instead.<br><br>I couldn’t take it. One verse in and I was done. The mere thought of songwriting sent me careening down a shame-spiral.<br><br>So I stopped songwriting.<br><br>Over the next few months, I took on multiple babysitting jobs, only doing the occasional show or tour. I took weeks off at a time to fly home and hang with my mom while she went through chemo. I taught guitar lessons, went to AA meetings. Spent dozens of hours on my therapist’s couch, wondering aloud, if I should just give up music altogether....?<br><br>Until next time....<br>Aly<br><br>PS. Hungry Ghost is officially out TODAY! To celebrate the release, I’m sharing stories about the record. This is Part 2 of 5.<br><br>The best you can help is to order the record on iTunes, or leave a quick review. You can do that <a contents="here" data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="https://t.co/Hv6qD5I1xI">here</a>.</p>Aly Tadrostag:alytadros.com,2005:Post/45258972016-11-29T12:00:00-05:002016-12-27T17:47:33-05:00It all works out (even when it doesn't).<span fbphotosnowliftcaption="" id=""><span hascaption="">The ride to releasing this record was not a smooth one. A bumpy jaunt across the desert on a narcoleptic donkey would be more accurate.<br><br>Nonetheless, we made it.<br><br>I recorded the album with Kevin Salem, a wonderful guitarist and producer, and now, a good friend.<br><br>The truth is, Kevin wasn’t my first choice. He wasn’t even my second.<br><br><span text_exposed_show="">It all started two years ago, when I applied for an Artist-in-Residence at an artist enclave in Hollywood. The house was called The Castle, a six bedroom mansion overlooking downtown Los Angeles, run by a non-profit artist collective called The Alchemy. I was coming up on two years since releasing my last album, which is when artists usually go back into the studio.<br><br>Except I wasn’t writing.<br><br>Antsy to release new material, I decided I’d back myself into a corner. I’d heard that the best writers out of Nashville wrote with other artists - so I figured I would cowrite, too. My goal was to spend a month in LA and find fifteen songwriters to collaborate with. At the end of the residency, I’d perform all 15 songs for my friends and fans at The Castle. It was EXTREME SONGWRITING. Then I’d reach out to my dream record producer, he’d fall in love with my music, and together, we’d make a career-changing record.<br><br>We’ll call this producer Dave. Dave worked with one of my favorite songwriters, and had made the kinds of albums I put on in the car on first dates to seem indie and hip. Dave lived in Williamsburg before it was cool and had a sort-of-famous wife. I really, really wanted to work with Dave.<br><br><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/232921/7401400a5df4a984c5953a97702370197313537c/medium/01ffe3c3-09fa-4c2d-b9d6-53df6d4c25f0.jpg?1482878840" class="size_m justify_right border_" />The day after I won the residency, I emailed Dave to set up a meeting to discuss recording the songs I hadn’t written yet, and then got to work. The only problem was, I knew no one in LA. I spent weeks setting up writing dates for the residency; sending awkward emails to friends of friends and getting brushed off by music publishers who’d never heard of me.<br><br>When it was all said and done, I’d cobbled together 13 songwriters to collaborate with.<br><br>I got to LA, and every day from 9AM-6PM (and often late into the night), I waited for a songwriter to show up, so we could write a song. Sometimes, they didn’t, and I’d struggle to finish a song on my own. By the end of the two weeks I’d somehow finished 10 songs.<br><br>I invited a big group of friends to the house where I’d done the residency, and at the end we did a big showcase where I performed all the songs. It was incredible. I was sure I’d written my first batch of hits.<br><br>A day or two later, I stood in front of Dave’s two-story home in Santa Monica</span></span></span><span fbphotosphotocaption=""><span hascaption=""><span text_exposed_show="">, acoustic guitar in hand. I wore my favorite first-date black dress and my mother’s Egyptian necklace. </span></span></span><span fbphotosnowliftcaption="" id=""><span hascaption=""><span text_exposed_show=""><img src="" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" /></span></span></span><span fbphotosphotocaption=""><span hascaption=""><span text_exposed_show="">I rang the doorbell and wondered if I’d put on too much perfume.<br><br>When he answered the door I looked at his long, tousled grey hair and dirty skinny jeans and realized I’d overdressed.</span></span></span><br><br><span fbphotosphotocaption=""><span hascaption=""><span text_exposed_show="">I walked into his living room, where his kid’s toys were strewn about the floor.<br><br>“Do you want me to play some of the songs?” I asked, nonchalantly.<br>“No. I don’t like to do that, it’s awkward. You can email them,” he replied.<br><br>I felt like an amateur. Like one of those teeny-boppers who shows up to an American Idol audition hoping to get signed by a big fancy record label.<br><br>Instead, we talked about living in Brooklyn, his production style and bass players.<br><br>“What’s your budget for the record?” he asked.<br>“$30,000” I said. That was a lie.<br>“That’s a decent budget. How soon?” he asked.<br>“Meh, a few months” I said, coolly. Also a lie.<br><br>I tried to seem casual, but on the inside, my chest was pounding. I’d never even made a record for half that.<br><br>I had no idea how I’d come up with that amount of money, but I figured a high number would keep him from kicking me out of his living room. I went home that night and emailed him demos of every half-decent song I’d written.<br><br>Two years worth of material, plus what I’d written during the residency. Then, I waited.<br><br>A few weeks later, he called. “If you want to record now, I could work with four of them.”<br><br>My songwriting needed work, he told me. My metaphors were off.<br><br>I sat on my bed in Brooklyn, listening to him break down the weaknesses in each song, mortified.<br><br>“Don’t take this the wrong way,” he told me, “when I was a musician back in New York I got criticism that burned me so bad I didn’t touch my instrument for nine months. Please don’t do that."<br><br>I assured him I wouldn’t. I would go right back to writing. I would come back a better and stronger writer, and surely send him new batches of songs as they appeared.<br><br>We would make this record.<br><br>Then I dusted off my shoulders, and didn’t touch my guitar for six months.<br><br>Looking back, there’s no way I could’ve anticipated what was to come...<br><br>With so much love,<br>Aly<br><br><strong>P. S. To celebrate Hungry Ghost’s official release (FRIDAY!!), I’m sharing a series of short stories about the album. This is the first. If you want to help get the album on the charts, Pre-order it <a album="" href="" https:="" hungry-ghost="" id1167875871="" itunes.apple.com="" mn="">here.</a> More to come....</strong></span></span></span><br>"Aly Tadrostag:alytadros.com,2005:Post/45258992016-11-21T12:05:00-05:002017-02-05T16:49:14-05:00"You'll embarrass yourself.""You'll embarrass yourself."<br><br>Around this time four years ago I was planning the New York release party for my second record. It was going to be my biggest release show to date, and the first show with my new agent. I wanted it to be great.<br><br>My agent suggested Joe’s Pub, a gorgeous cabaret-style theater that’s hosted Adele, Amy Winehouse and Lady Gaga early in their careers.<br><br>My publicist felt differently. “It’s too big. I’m afraid you’ll embarrass yourself,” he told me.<br><br>I’d been in New York for less than a year, and he thought I couldn’t even come close to filling the 190 seats. I didn’t know that many people.<br><br>So we passed on Joe’s, and instead went with a venue that didn’t charge a cover. It ended up being an amazing night (we packed the show to capacity), but even months after, his words stuck with me. Don't make an ass of yourself, Aly. Know your place.<br><br>Throughout my career I’ve had to deal with feeling like an amateur. Like I’ll always be the 22 year old who struggled to fill a two-hour set or theater. Always biting off more than I can chew. There’s no secret to getting over it. It just takes time, and repeated effort.<br><br>Lots of big successes and great shows followed by not-so-great ones and even ohmygod-I-should’ve-stayed-in-school shows. Tomorrow I turn 30. I’m starting to care less about looking like an idiot. I screw up all the time.<br><br>Yesterday at rehearsal we went through the string charts and I realized they were a mess. I felt stupid, and it’s okay. My bandmates helped me figure it out.<br><br>The trick is, now I don’t try to do it alone.<br><br>All throughout my crowdfunding campaign I had support. I called my sponsor daily, freaking out. “WHAT IF THEY HATE ME?”.<br><br>Texted other artists who soothed me through the process. I was terrified most of the time, but they carried me through it.<br><br>Whether I succeed or fail doesn’t define me. What matters is that I keep showing up. This Wednesday night I’ll take the stage at Joe's Pub at The Public with my six wonderful bandmates<br><br>e’re celebrating the release of my third record, but it means so much more to me. It’s one more chance for me to do something that scares me. Doors open at 9PM. The amazing Dustin Gledhill and Lucas Pullin open the night.<br><br>If you're in NYC, there are a few tables left. Tickets here: <a a="" aly-tadros="" calendar="" en="" href joes-pub="" playdetailscollection="" tickets="" www.publictheater.org="" http:="">http://www.publictheater.org/en/tickets/calendar/playdetailscollection/joes-pub/2016/a/aly-tadros/?SiteTheme=JoesPub</a><br><br>I will probably say something embarrassing, but this time, it’s on my terms. I hope you’ll join me.Aly Tadrostag:alytadros.com,2005:Post/45259002016-10-21T12:05:00-04:002017-02-05T16:49:14-05:00Debut Single 'Rivers' premieres today!<a contents="" data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="http://alytadros.bandcamp.com/" target="_blank"><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/232921/feada770cabc19b9efda98834c978a2e651c088f/medium/rivers-single-cover3-copy-768x768.jpg?1482878897" class="size_m justify_center border_" /></a><br><br>When it comes to Texas-born and NY-based artist Aly Tadros, writing is a vehicle for transition. After raising an impressive 120% of her PledgeMusic goal, the singer-songwriter announces the release of Hungry Ghost, her third album, on December 2. After eight years and more than 800 shows, Tadros has a full-fledged confidence in delivering a record that candidly covers struggle.<br><br>Hungry Ghost is void of tongue-and-cheek communication, with songs inspired by overcoming alcoholism, the death of her father, relationships and more. Produced by Kevin Salem (Rachael Yamagata, Yo la Tengo, Mike Doughty) and Tadros' herself, the album follows 2009's debut Things Worth Keeping, 2013's The Fits and a whopping ten U.S. and four European tours.<br><br>Enjoy "Rivers" @ <a album="" href play.spotify.com="" https:="">Spotify</a> || <a alytadros="" href rivers="" soundcloud.com="" https:="">Soundcloud</a> || <a alytadros.bandcamp.com="" data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="http://alytadros.bandcamp.com/" rivers="" target="_blank" track="" https:="">Bandcamp</a><br><br>Hungry Ghost is the culmination of Tadros' unabashed attitude towards living and performing. At 17, she picked up the guitar and uprooted from her hometown of Laredo, Texas to Turkey. By 21, she’d lived between four continents, and dropped out of college after taking her first paid gig. In 2013, The Village Voice dubbed her "one of the best live shows to catch in NYC" -- at her first show at Joe's Pub. Amid the metamorphosis that came to define Hungry Ghost, Tadros embraced a new level of transparency by blogging for fans. A painstaking guest editorial on her road to sobriety published for XOJane went viral in 2015.<br><br>Hungry Ghost, the title of Tadros' most seasoned effort, is borrowed from Buddhism. A ""hungry ghost"" is an insatiable creature. With bowling ball-sized bellies and pin-sized mouths these hollow, transparent beings have a crippling appetite. For Tadros, the constant touring, performing and drinking of her early career failed in fueling her craving for fulfillment. Years into recovery, it has charged her new 13-track LP with emotional scar tissue and an irresistible vulnerability. Tadros' injects a fresh artistry to her folk-pop, landing her critical acclaim from American Songwriter, Interview Magazine, Paste, USA Today, MTV, The Village Voice and a long list of other respected voices in music. Her Egyptian roots paired with a deep appreciation for Latin American and Middle Eastern music can be traced to the traditional Mexican vihuela and other myriad of instruments that join her on stage.<br><br>On Wednesday, November 23, Tadros returns to Joe's Pub to celebrate the release of Hungry Ghost. She'll tour the west coast with her new batch of stories at the top of 2017. Dates to be announced soon.<br><br>Wednesday, November 23 -- 9pm Aly Tadros' Hungry Ghost Release Party Joe's Pub 425 Lafayette Street $15 // 21+ // <a a="" aly-tadros="" calendar="" en="" href joes-pub="" playdetailscollection="" publictheater.org="" tickets="" http:="">TICKETS</a>Aly Tadrostag:alytadros.com,2005:Post/45259012016-06-09T12:05:00-04:002016-12-27T19:06:44-05:00Kerrville Folk FestivalJust returned to Laredo after a week at the Kerrville Folk Festival 2016.<br><br>Out of this years New Folk finalists, I was not one of the six winners. I DID get to perform for an incredibly gracious audience, break in my rain boots (AKA Kerrmageddon), and connect with an incredibly kind and talented group of songwriters.<br><br>I'm honored to have been among the 32 finalists.<br><br>You all make me want to be a better songwriter.<br><br>Thanks for the hugs, the songs, and the bottomless supply of Topochico.<br><br>Thank you to Neale Eckstein for the photo below!<br><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/232921/f9bf434f36a16c0cc7eb29546217d834f98496c9/original/screen-shot-2016-06-09-at-2-33-10-pm.png?1482883574" class="size_l justify_center border_" />Aly Tadrostag:alytadros.com,2005:Post/45259042016-03-23T12:05:00-04:002016-12-27T19:07:38-05:00Euro Tour!<img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/232921/573f52346be67adae200ba0adc0382d2333a852f/original/eurotourannounce-wswrev.png?1482883649" class="size_l justify_center border_" /><br><br>Photos are wrapped, and album design is officially underway.<br><br>I'm so excited to finally announce I'm headed to Germany for a month-long European Tour.<br><br>Thank you to the fine folks at Songs & Whispers for making it all possible. For all dates and information, click <a alytadros.com="" href="" see-me-live="" http:="">here</a>.<br><br>First show kicks off April 8!Aly Tadrostag:alytadros.com,2005:Post/45259092016-02-22T12:10:00-05:002016-12-27T19:08:27-05:00Productivity Hack: Procrastinate ProcrastinationMy best friend is the most disciplined person I know.<br><br>He sits down early in the morning to work on his programming, and gets up once or twice throughout the day to eat, go to the bathroom, or call a friend. Otherwise he works. He has a freakishly-long attention span. I love and admire him immensely.<br><br>I also hate him for it.<br><br>I am nothing like him. For most of my life I've considered myself a chronic procrastinator. I will do anything to avoid getting started - even when the project is something I actually enjoy doing.<br><br>I clean my room, read a book, mindlessly scroll Facebook. What's underneath it is a fear that I'll probably fuck up.<br><br>So I distract myself from the uncomfortable thoughts. I know this about myself, so I plan accordingly.<br><br>When it's time to start the task, I pull all the stops. Cell phone on airplane mode, social media blockers activated, door closed. Then I set a timer. Twenty minutes. A songwriting professor once told me we can withstand ANY boring task for 20 minutes. I believe him.<br><br>After the 20 minutes is up, I get a reward. The reward is often something small, positive and silly, like listening to a podcast I love or text-flirting. Funny thing is, by the time the timer goes off, I'm often so deep in the flow of my work that I reset my timer, putting off my break for another 15-20.<br><br>I procrastinate procrastination.<br><br>I know my weaknesses: short attention and self-defeating thoughts. I could sit around all damn day and beat myself up about them (and trust me, I have). Instead, I've learned to use this information to my advantage.<br><br>I optimize my environment for productivity, and give myself the best chance possible to get my work done.<br><br><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/232921/6789bef09db8b882c6dfa40f994c48a79041af6d/original/procrastination-hack1.jpg?1482883695" class="size_l justify_center border_" />Aly Tadrostag:alytadros.com,2005:Post/45261802016-02-15T16:25:00-05:002016-12-26T16:22:51-05:00Next Right ThingEverything is an emergency.<br><br>First thing in the morning, this is what goes through my monkey brain.<br><br>Must. check. email. Facebook. OKCupid. Visibility of abs. A lot of *big* decisions need to be made. PR company, photoshoots, music video direction, release tour dates.<br><br>The thought of taking each one on is completely overwhelming to me - it's easy to get stuck in a worst-case-scenario state of paralysis. I distract myself with tiny, insignificant details (see: abs).<br><br>In reality, every single *BIG* decision is just a series of small, simple choices.<br><br>Need to do a photoshoot? Pull up the list of photographers. Go to each website. Pick your favorites. Email them.<br><br>When I get overwhelmed - I stop and ask myself, "What's the next right thing?"<br><br>That's all I'm responsible for.<br><br><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/232921/857a819aa2c35c1c7bce2bccf27d8e0c546534cb/medium/question-sign.jpg?1482787339" class="size_m justify_left border_" />Aly Tadrostag:alytadros.com,2005:Post/45261812016-02-13T16:25:00-05:002016-12-26T16:25:53-05:00What next? Make shitty art.What's next?<br><br>I'm sitting in my parents backyard in Laredo, Texas.<br><br>Just a few days ago we topped 15K in the <a alytadros="" href="" www.pledgemusic.com="" http:="">Pledge Music Campaign </a> (!!!!). I have a lot to do.<br><br>Photoshoots, graphic design, printing, tour planning, rehearsing.<br><br>With all the logistics on my plate, it'd be very - VERY easy to let art making fall by the wayside. I've been entirely focused on crowdfunding and the life of this record, and as a result, haven't really been writing.<br><br>Slowly, I've noticed my weird neurosis amping up: I hit refresh on my inbox, check my text messages, blindly scroll through Facebook.<br><br>When I don't write, I have a hard time sitting with myself. or worse. I eat 10,000 Oreos in one sitting.<br><br>I start resenting the logistical duties that I need to do to support my business, and drag my feet. That's when I know it's time to set the bar ridiculously low.<br><br>I've given myself a simple assignment: <strong>write one shitty verse a day.</strong> That's it.<br><br>You have to recognize when "perfect" becomes the enemy of "good".... and in this case, "good" has become the enemy of "done".<br><br>As a Pat Pattison put it - crap is the best fertilizer. So if you're feeling stuck: go make shitty art.<br><br><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/232921/c013e5b64f493069e9cdff831ffa2e26b753ebc3/large/art-1024x768.jpg?1482787523" class="size_l justify_left border_" />Aly Tadrostag:alytadros.com,2005:Post/45261822016-02-13T13:30:00-05:002016-12-26T16:28:07-05:00We Did It<img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/232921/d2da588a8fbe3da323c77684b75376ad06a56997/medium/img-5514.jpg?1482787652" class="size_m justify_none border_" /><br>New York via Amtrak<br><br>We finished tracking the last song in Woodstock tonight, just as the <a alytadros="" href="" www.pledgemusic.com="" http:="">Pledge Music Campaign </a>slid into 99%.<br><br>Over $15,100 raised by 245 amazing people, and we're still not finished. A few months ago this all just felt like a pipe dream. Now it's real, masters in hand.<br><br>Thank you. Sincerely.<br><br>Time to put out an amazing record.<br><br>PS. In the coming weeks I'll be posting to the blog a lot more actively. If you want the most up to date news, find me on <a alytadrosmusic="" href="" www.facebook.com="" http:="">Facebook</a> or <a alytadros="" href="" www.instagram.com="" http:="">Instagram</a>, where I post daily.Aly Tadrostag:alytadros.com,2005:Post/45275552016-01-15T20:20:00-05:002016-12-27T20:16:26-05:00Crossing this off my bucket list!<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/232921/d7a4fbc94e1c877b21fa871ee69f490015873eef/original/1506008-663835815827-1359394608-n.jpg?1482887740" class="size_l justify_center border_" /><br>Almost exactly one year after bringing the band to LA, we're so excited to be back for another show! Come out for a rare chance to see us in sunny California, New tunes, new do', same ol' goofy smile. </p>
<p>We'll be at <strong>The Hotel Cafe, January 21, 8PM! $10/ticket.</strong> Come early to hear sami.the.great playing at 7PM! Buy your tickets here: <a href="http://www.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fbit.ly%2F1gBqyyw&h=SAQGlcvyE&enc=AZOBaZSHraWO0sh3vCSZKq-udafRbO_LDDAYuY_6uOwtRnl6ZsX_xmv4meiFokt4IS0&s=1" rel="nofollow nofollow" target="_blank">http://bit.ly/1gBqyyw</a> <br>Plus, we're going to be LIVE streaming the show via <a data-hovercard="/ajax/hovercard/page.php?id=452337718124903&extragetparams=%7B%22directed_target_id%22%3A0%7D" href="https://www.facebook.com/SpacebarLive">Spacebar</a>, a free mobile app. Link here: <a href="http://shows.live.spacebar.com/1847.html" rel="nofollow nofollow" target="_blank">http://<wbr></wbr>shows.live.spacebar.com/<wbr></wbr>1847.html</a> </p>
<p>After our stop at The Hotel Cafe, we're making our way to the 2014 NAMM Conference! If you're all registered and attending, see us play at one of our sets below! </p>
<ul> <li>
<strong>January 23, 7PM</strong> - Marriott Stage</li> <li>
<strong>January 24, 11AM</strong> - NAMM GoPro Stage on the Grand Plaza</li> <li>
<strong>January 24, 1PM</strong> - Guild Guitars Stage </li>
</ul>
<p style="text-align: center;">For more info on NAMM, visit <a href="http://www.namm.org/thenammshow/2014">here</a>.</p>To top off my SUPER WEEK, I've been selected to speak at this year's <a href="http://www.tedxyouthlaredo.org/">TEDxYouthLaredo</a> event on January 25th! Awww yeah, crossing that off the bucket list! <br><br><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/232921/84b6479c2a96562773d19ca6315f6b5324487746/medium/1554338-10152481132360830-2018354149-n.jpg?1482887739" class="size_m justify_center border_" />Aly Tadrostag:alytadros.com,2005:Post/45261832015-10-25T16:30:00-04:002016-12-26T16:29:40-05:00I've been promising to make a *BIG* announcement for weeks.<p>I really, really needed to be in bed an hour ago. I've been promising to make a *BIG* announcement for weeks, and now seems like a damn good time to do it. </p>
<p>Tomorrow morning my drummer Cody Rahn and I will be driving up to Woodstock, NY to RECORD MY THIRD ALBUM. Life happened, as it does, and so it took the wild stretch of the past three years to finally get to this point. Kevin Salem (Yo La Tango, Rachel Yamagata, Mike Doughty) is producing it. 14 Songs. WTF. </p>
<p>Feels like the first day of school all over again. Mostly, I feel real damn lucky. I'll be writing and posting as much on Facebook (so <a href="https://www.facebook.com/alytadrosmusic" target="_blank">follow me here!</a>) as I can from the studio. HERE WE GO!</p>Aly Tadrostag:alytadros.com,2005:Post/45261842015-05-21T16:30:00-04:002016-12-26T16:31:00-05:00Two YearsI instantly regretted showing up.<br><br>I stood in the entrance of a church basement, looking out into a sea of empty folding chairs and children’s books.<br><br>t was just me and a little old black man well into his 70s. I’d clearly misread the meeting description online when Ithought it said “young, hip meetup for folks just going through a phase.”<br><br>I was two days sober.<br><br>-----<br><br><a a-70-year-old-mans-story-made-me-realize-i-was-an-alcoholic="" href="" it-happened-to-me="" www.xojane.com="" http:="">I'm excited to share that the rest of this post has been published entirely on XOJane.com. Click to read the rest of my story here.</a>Aly Tadrostag:alytadros.com,2005:Post/45261852015-04-30T16:35:00-04:002016-12-26T16:32:37-05:00Brave vs. Automatic<img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/232921/0b9f7ba0db248f6e2b277334b7bc7fe904af4505/medium/831da484-f711-4b2f-800d-c38403cc636d.jpg?1482787930" class="size_m justify_right border_" />I have this funny little post-it note.<p style="" color:="">It goes everywhere with me. It was inspired by something <a color:="" style="">Elizabeth Gilbert</a> shared on Facebook a few weeks ago.</p>
<p style="" color:=""><img src="" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" />The post-it note simply says: “Brave Vs. Automatic”. It reminds me to choose the brave course of action, as opposed to the easiest.</p>
<p style="" color:="">Maybe for some people, getting shit done comes naturally. It does not for me. Or it has not up until this point. I am terrible with emails. I hate checking my bank account and wince the second before the ATM spits out my little paper receipt. I have to fight to find the motivation to get up most mornings and do the things that are important to me. Every time I do those things (like editing a new song or posting a blog that might make my mom frown), my chest opens up and I feel like a million bucks. Like nothing can touch me because BAM. I’m brave.</p>Sometimes I just need a little reminding. So I’m sharing it here. Hope it inspires you to do a lil’ something ballsy this fine day.Aly Tadrostag:alytadros.com,2005:Post/45261972015-04-17T16:35:00-04:002016-12-26T16:35:13-05:00Entertainment 2 Affect Change<img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/232921/f812fa03d62c5503b8145adb949a1d8181cb3117/medium/screen-shot-2015-03-24-at-9-26-13-am.png?1482788082" class="size_m justify_center border_" /><br><br>I'm so so proud to announce the official launch of Entertainment 2 Affect Change, a brand new nonprofit started by Ryan Gielen, Patrick James Lynch, Jared Craig and myself.<br><br>E2AC is dedicated to creating entertainment and live events that improve the lives of people living in minority health and/or social communities. Our mission is to improve the overall quality of life for people in these communities through new media, film, art, live performance, and social media. We educate on health & wellness, and overall inspire folks to improve self-care and pursue fulfilling lives.<br><br>Some of you know - I've been doing volunteer projects for years, mostly playing nursing homes, hospices, and hospitals in my spare time.<br><br>To be completely honest, my role has mostly been to cheer from the sidelines while the guys put incredible, life-changing work into the world. Also, they are stupid-talented (their mokumentary-style comedic webseries <a href="" watch="" www.youtube.com="" https:="">"Stop the Bleeding"</a> is a fucking riot and I highly recommend spending the remainder of your afternoon watching it).<br><br>And this is just the beginning.<br><br>To learn more about E2AC and the awesome projects we've got underway, "<a e2acorg="" href="" www.facebook.com="" https:="">like</a>" us on Facebook, then hop on over to <a href="" www.e2ac.org="" http:="">www.e2ac.org</a>.<br><br>More to come!<br>AlyAly Tadrostag:alytadros.com,2005:Post/45261982015-03-03T16:40:00-05:002018-10-04T08:09:40-04:00Permission to suck."I hate puzzles. <em>Nothing</em> makes me feel more inept than trying to build a puzzle <em>(EDIT: See</em> calculus).<br><br>When I was a kid my parents used to keep these old, ratty puzzle boxes stacked in the beach condo we spent our summers at. At some point, I’d get a burst of inspiration and wander over to the pile of boxes, grab one with a puppy or flower pot on the cover and think <em>How hard could this be?</em><br><br>I’d sit down, dump the 100-odd pieces across the table, and start pulling out the most obvious corner pieces.<br><br>Easy enough. I’d start congratulating myself for finishing the puzzle at a Guinness-World Record pace. Then shit got hairy. I’d reach for the next piece, and when I couldn’t connect it with a corner slot, I’d get flustered.<br><br><em>This is stupid.</em> A little voice would say. The hundred little pieces on the table would multiply into a thousand, and I’d feel stupid.<br><br>Then the voice again. <em>You <strong>suck.</strong></em> I’d give up. <em>Who cares about some stupid puppy puzzle, anyway?</em><br><br>Writing a song is a lot like building a puzzle. Perfectly written songs don’t just fall out of me. I’m not one of those people. Fuck those people.<br><br>For me songwriting (and writing in general) is a slow, arduous battle from the second an idea is born, to the finish line. It’s a battle against the voices telling me I suck.<br><br>I spend a long time fumbling when I write: I sing nonsense melodies and lyrics until a light goes off. Something excites me.<br><br>I’ll take that little piece and set off building this grand, scheming picture in my head of what the finished song will look like. It will be THE BEST SONG I HAVE EVER WRITTEN.<br><br>And then...something won’t connect; I won’t know where to go with the chorus or how to finish a verse.<br><br>That’s where the voice kicks in: <em>Nope, no chorus here. Maybe check in the fridge? Patty Griffin already wrote this song 10 times better. Are your thighs bigger? You should get to the gym. Where is Seth Glier touring this year? Your metaphors suck. Never should have dropped out of college. <strong>You suck.</strong></em> -- <a alyblog1.png="" alytadros.com="" href uploads="" wp-content="" http:=""><img src="" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" /></a> I was explaining the entire creative process to a friend recently - and apparently, there’s a name for it: The Hype Cycle.<br><br>That point when the voices kick in? Aptly named: “The Trough of Disillusionment.” It’s what stands between me and every piece of finished work.<br><br>Here’s the thing: 99.9% of everything I've ever written started out...kind of sucking.<br><br>Case in point: check out this early brainstorm of the first verse of my song, “Sweet on Me”: [audio mp3=""http://alytadros.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/03/Sweet-on-me-early-demo-for-blog.mp3""][/audio] I sound like a babbling idiot, right?<br><br>The song continued to change and develop, until I finally got to the finished product...<br>ONE YEAR LATER: [audio mp3=""http://alytadros.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/03/Sweet-on-me-finished-product-for-blog.mp3""][/audio] - The NUMBER ONE reason I didn’t give up on that song: I gave myself <em>permission</em> to be weird.<br><br>I’d literally just read an interview with Tom Waits where he talked about writing nonsense lyrics for fun. So I let myself be silly.<br><br>When the pieces didn't connect, I kept moving like nonsense was my job. And eventually, I fell in love with this silly little love song. I’ve done “songwriting lodges” where my goal was to write 20 songs in 12 hours. In those cases, it didn’t matter <em>what</em> I wrote: could be a space opera about falling in love, or a commercial jingle for mattresses. The only thing that mattered was that I <em>finished</em>.<br><br>I knew that going in; so when the voices inevitably started up, I kept writing. I had to. I had a job to do. Eventually, writing became fun again. <a alytadros.com="" howtobeanartist.png="" href uploads="" wp-content="" http:=""><img src="" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" /></a><br><br>Here’s the thing: the asshole voice in my head never really goes away. The point isn’t to banish it. It’s really more about tipping my hat to it and saying, <em>OK, crazy pants, I get that this song might suck. I get that you think I look stupid and everyone will hate it. But I’m going to keep going.</em> Because I have to.<br><br>I <em>have</em> to give myself permission to be mediocre, or kind of weird, or flat out suck. If a song sucks, it’s not the end of the world. If I stop creating, it is.<br><br>For me, being creative is about survival. It’s my pressure-release valve.<br><br>As Jesus of Nazareth said (yes, I’m quoting Jesus): <em>“Bring forth what is within you, and what is within you will save you. Do not bring forth what is within you, and what is within you will destroy you.”</em> - The asshole voice in my head doesn’t know that.<br><br>The asshole thinks that by stopping me, it’s protecting me from harm. Silly asshole. I know better. Every awkward line is just another piece in the puzzle; my work is never really done. That’s what making art is: expression, and evolution.<br><br>So you want to be an artist? Give yourself permission to suck.<br><br>Then suck more.Aly Tadrostag:alytadros.com,2005:Post/45274592014-12-22T19:15:00-05:002016-12-27T19:11:31-05:00Brooklyn Baby<p>I have this <em>friend</em>. </p>
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/232921/bbd41aaffe326976e01e791ae9ba1ed1dca9afbf/medium/image1-300x300.jpg?1482883852" class="size_m justify_right border_" />She’s a hardworking New Yorker. She puts in 12hr+ days doing the work she loves, plus work she doesn’t *exactly* love, because that’s what it takes. She wants a dog. She’s pretty sure she’d never have time to walk that dog and therefore be a terrible pet owner. She’d also love one of those cheap-but-hip Brooklyn loft apartments she’s heard exist, kind of like the pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. Sometimes she forgets to do the dishes two days in a row and is too busy running around to take a shower (yeah, she’s sexy alright). </p>
<p>Then one day, it occurred to this friend of mine that life could be a lot easier if she just got a boyfriend. Dog-walker? Check! Cheaper rent? Check! Not creeping out your roommate when you crawl into their bed at 2am for platonic cuddling? Please and thank you! </p>
<p>So she asked me to write this Christmas Song about it. To celebrate the holiday season, I’m releasing this Christmas gift – my new tune, “Brooklyn Baby.” To stream the song and get your download click <a contents="here" data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="https://alytadros.bandcamp.com/track/brooklyn-baby" target="_blank">here</a>!* </p>
<p>Here’s to hoping the holidays fulfill all your Brooklyn + bacon desires! And if you know of any single, eligible bachelors, I’m she’s still looking…. </p>
<p>*Just select “Buy Now” and under price enter $0.</p>Aly Tadrostag:alytadros.com,2005:Post/45274842014-11-24T19:20:00-05:002016-12-27T19:18:30-05:00Waking up from a Financial Nightmare<p>This is uncomfortable. </p>
<p>Every time I’ve written to you about overcoming an obstacle – it’s been from the other side of it. In some form or another, I’ve already hit the milestone: gotten into the big festival, put down the drink, and proved myself. </p>
<p>This time is different. This time, I’m still in. Deep. </p>
<p>— </p>
<p>I hate talking about money. </p>
<p>Artists don’t really talk about it. I’m always curious, wondering how my friends do it. Often I ask. Side gigs? Inheritance? Hooking? </p>
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/232921/3b502d36be17600d2d04d92b2ccf5cb67a0be70d/medium/2buck-captionfixed.png?1482884165" class="size_m justify_right border_" />I’ve always tried to live in a space of grateful ignorance. I’m thankful to have these shoes, this desk, this apartment. I will keep thanking and thanking until I get a text update from Chase Bank telling me I’m $14.37 away from my account over-drafting, and then I freak out. </p>
<p>Here’s the truth: I’ve never been 100% financially independent. </p>
<p>My parents have helped me along the way for most of my adult life, and now that I’m reaching my late 20’s – it’s overwhelming. I worry about it when I go to bed at night, and wake up in the morning. I watch my friends learning to handle their own finances, and I feel envious. </p>
<p>When I first started playing music I did my best to keep my overhead as low as possible. I lived with siblings or dirt-cheap apartments and played several nights a week. Then I started touring 7 months of the year, kept everything in storage, and couch surfed between trips. It was rough at times, but doable. </p>
<p>Now I’m an artist living in one of the most expensive cities in the country. Oops! </p>
<p>It probably seems really, really insane to move to New York City without any real plan or financial know-how. Probably because it was. I didn’t exactly get into this business as a result of “logic” and “reason”. </p>
<p>I picked up a part-time job babysitting when I moved here. I made decent money, but rarely tracked it enough to have any real handle on what I was making vs. spending. I told myself the story that I would always be a starving artist until I just wasn’t anymore. Deep down I believed some label or manager would come along and rescue me with cash-money and prizes, or else I’d just marry a rich dude. </p>
<p>I never really thought I’d take the steps towards becoming financially savvy. I didn’t think I could. When you’ve lived in a bad habit for so long, at some point you forget it’s a choice you made, and start attributing it to who you are. </p>
<p>I grew up in an upper-middle class home and never really wanted for anything material. We took nice vacations, had nice clothes, and I always understood on some level that I would always be taken care of. </p>
<p>At the same time, I watched each month as my mother stuffed credit card bills into my drawers, where my father couldn’t find them. We always waited until after he’d gone to bed to bring shopping bags into the house. </p>
<p>I wasn’t exactly primed for the best spending habits – but it’s one thing to be cognizant of that and do something to change it – and another to use it as an excuse. For years, I’d be standing in the checkout line holding a $5 bottle of juice, my parent’s “in case of emergencies” credit card in hand, and excuse myself as a I swiped just this one time. </p>
<p>Each month my mom called to ask about the credit card bill. I’d swear the world over I’d be more careful – and then do it all over again. My guilt started seeping and poisoning our relationship; each time I saw her calling, I thought “Oh crap – I fucked up again” and avoid speaking to her for days. Like sneaking in shopping bags or hiding bills in drawers, I acted no different in avoiding her phone calls. I stuck my head in the sand hoping something would change. </p>
<p>But nothing did. My mom got cancer, and hearing about her mounting hospital bills, I hit my limit. I knew nobody would save me but ME. I called my mom, sobbing, telling her something needed to change – and I couldn’t live in the dark anymore. I needed to take responsibility for myself. </p>
<p><em>Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes </em></p>
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/232921/87e2402b31dcd042d5fda1cb26444b326fbe0f20/medium/desk-caption-1024x646.png?1482884175" class="size_m justify_left border_" />Last year I realized I could make huge changes in my life through simple, daily tiny victories. I was living in a state of chaos in my bedroom/workspace – but had always been a “messy” person. I put that aside – and each morning I woke up and set the goal of making my bed. Each time I walked into my room and saw the bed neatly made, it made me happy. </p>
<p>Eventually I found time throughout the day to pick up three little things at a time. Without ever really thinking it through, I went from being a person who lived in constant chaos to one that craves the reward of coming home to a clean, organized space. </p>
<p>I didn’t like feeling like I couldn’t deal with life without at least a glass or two of wine each night, but I couldn’t stop on my own. So I set a small goal – go to one AA meeting. At each meeting, I made the commitment not to drink THAT day. I just focused on what was immediately in front of me, and didn’t worry about the rest. A year and half later, I’m still not drinking. </p>
<p>Even though these big changes made me feel great, my finances still felt insurmountable. They’ve been, without a doubt, my biggest source of insecurity. </p>
<p>So I got to work by applying the same principles. (1) Admit I have a problem. (2) Find a community. I started a support group for girlfriends to work through Barbara Stanny’s “Overcoming Underearning.” Each week we’d hop on the phone to discuss our fears, discoveries and goals. </p>
<p>I also got a mentor. I hired my first financial advisor. Like me, she’s involved in the arts – and works primarily with actors and musicians on commission. </p>
<p>I finally sat down and looked at my monthly expenses vs. income – and the amount I’d have to make to be completely, 100% financially independent from my mom. It won’t happen all at once; but it was a step in the right direction. </p>
<p>I started booking higher paying gigs, took on a few guitar students and extra babysitting jobs so I could stay in New York and continue writing. The story I carried for so long was that anything that wasn’t making my own music was cheating on my dream. Truth is, it meant living in a financial nightmare. </p>
<p>So that’s where I’m at. Looking at the numbers can be scary. When they don’t look great the temptation is to beat myself up. That doesn’t get me anywhere. Celebrating every tiny victory and trying to act differently does. </p>
<p>It’s easy for me to compare my insides to other artist’s outsides. I say, “Oh, she’s on that big fancy tour and must be raking in the cash!” I forget: every last dollar goes to the band, the promo, the label, the sound guy, the agent. Even my friends with record deals and publishing contracts are in some way in debt and trying to navigate the system. We’re all still trying to figure out how to pay our bills and do what we love. </p>
<p>I have no idea what’s going on with other artists, and it doesn’t fucking matter. There’s no thinking myself out of this one. All that matters is what I do. </p>
<p>My mantra for today is that I’m doing what’s uncomfortable, and that makes me a winner. It’s like the first time I made my bed or put down that drink and walked into a meeting. Each time it felt a little strange – but I showed up. It meant forgetting all the stories about who I was, and what I was capable of. I felt the fear, and did it anyways. </p>
<p>I’ve made it this far by being comfortable with discomfort. I’m in, and I’m doing it. </p>
<p>It’s scary, but I know all the best challenges start with fear. </p>
<p>This challenge means growing into the woman who is excited by running her own business, and kick-ass at making money. <strong>A woman who uses that money to do good in the world. THAT woman has got plans way too big to let something as silly as fear slow her pace.</strong></p>Aly Tadrostag:alytadros.com,2005:Post/45274882014-10-02T19:30:00-04:002016-12-27T19:26:38-05:00Making the most of it.<p><em>Make the most of it. </em></p>
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/232921/f7fd857588bb2644907487818abd550f8ffd2813/medium/e7d5bd00-3737-40b9-b330-bb7f8fe2c4c9.png?1482884632" class="size_m justify_right border_none" alt="" />A few months ago I had a great conversation with a buddy about friends of ours who’d gotten a big break on national television. It was a huge opportunity, but they actually seemed more stressed: trying REALLY hard to “make the most of it.” They were so wrapped up in capitalizing on every opportunity and “striking while the iron was hot” – that they kind of ran themselves ragged. </p>
<p>I thought about our conversation a lot during my residency at The Castle. Every morning I would walk down to see the grand piano sitting in the living room, my guitars strewn around the stage and think – h<em>oly shit, I’m really lucky. </em></p>
<p>And then a voice in my head would scream – <em>MAKE THE MOST OF IT. </em></p>
<p>Ok, not really. First I thought, <em>must. make. eggs and bacon. </em></p>
<p>And then I thought <em>make the most of it. </em></p>
<p>I tried really hard to set up as many writing dates as possible. That was my mission: don’t. waste. a second. </p>
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/232921/42b385aee94d308396b9c2e6513960bf8df2e097/medium/dcdade28-51b8-4364-8ae5-a03f694824e1.png?1482884626" class="size_m justify_left border_" />My first three days of the residency, I had five writing sessions. It was back to back, non-stop, mentally exhausting creative time – and completely emotionally cathartic. It felt amazing to be ON constantly and challenge myself to push past my creative walls. I went to bed every night feeling full and nervous-excited about the next day. <em>Could I do it again? Were the songs any good? Would they make the album? </em></p>
<p>On the fourth day, my writing appointment cancelled – and I was left with the entire morning free. For once, I resisted the urge to stay busy or entertain that voice asking 1,000,001 questions about my future as an artist – and just hung out instead. </p>
<p>Eventually I sat down at the piano and started lulling my way through the song I’d started with <a contents="Irvin Dally" data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="http://irvindally.tumblr.com/" target="_blank">Irvin Dally</a>. We’d struggled a lot in the beginning and almost abandoned it. But as I played the first few lines I thought, <em>this really has some potential.</em> Then I dove in. </p>
<p>I put my cell phone out onto the piano, hit “record” – and ran the song over, and over. I let myself be a total perfectionist. I sussed out harmonies for the chorus and played with subtle vocal changes on the outro. It probably drove my housemates insane, but I didn’t care. It was meditation. I finally let my worries about my residency, album, and music career go. In that moment, I played simply because i<em>t felt good. </em></p>
<p>A few days and a million run-throughs later, Irvin came over and we finished that song. </p>
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/232921/034cddf5395d8e29d0d72bb9c7f0c54c7a51dbae/medium/54e96cb2-e63e-45a8-9a3e-99210130a9ee.png?1482884644" class="size_m justify_right border_" />What resulted was<strong> one of my favorite songs</strong> from the residency. </p>
<p><strong>That experience reminded me why boredom is such an important part of childhood – it leaves space for us to get creative. </strong></p>
<p>When big opportunities come along, it’s important to take advantage of them. I’m not saying a big break on national television or prestigious residency shouldn’t inspire ass-kicking. But along with the hustle, life is meant to be enjoyed. Spending every waking moment BUSY to quiet your worries about the future can spoil the fun. </p>
<p>I wanted to write an incredible album. But every day, I had to let my worries of the future go or I’d never make it out of bed. <strong>Every time I get too caught up in the goal, I get overwhelmed and lose sight of what’s directly in front of me*. </strong></p>
<p>(*I’ve stepped onto the wrong subway train and ended up in Bumfuck Brooklyn many times for this same reason.) </p>
<p>It’s impossible for us to know the outcome. I had no idea in those moments if I would write a great album or if ANY of the songs would make the album. Worrying about any of that did me no good – all I had to do was focus on the moment. <em>“The Moment” is where the magic happens.</em> It’s when I let my love for what I’m doing lead the way, and let go of all that other crap. It takes some faith in the process. </p>
<p>The voices and fear may never really go away. They will try and try to pull me out of the present and into some dark distant future. </p>
<p>Instead, these days I sit down to do the work – and I say, listen crazy pants:<strong><em> I may be terrified, but fuck it. I’m doing it anyways. </em></strong></p>
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/232921/7401400a5df4a984c5953a97702370197313537c/medium/01ffe3c3-09fa-4c2d-b9d6-53df6d4c25f0.jpg?1482878840" class="size_m justify_left border_" />What matters most is that I did something that scares me. I had the opportunity to do something that would challenge, inspire and change me – and I took it. I made the choice. </p>
<p>That, to me, is making the most of it.</p>Aly Tadrostag:alytadros.com,2005:Post/45274892014-08-14T19:30:00-04:002016-12-27T19:30:23-05:00I felt like an ass.The first time I picked up a guitar, <em>I hated it.</em>
<p>I was seventeen. I'd bought myself a blue sunburst acoustic for $85 from Guitar Center, with the minimum wage gig I had serving lattes at Open Coffee. I got the guitar (mostly) to impress a guy I had a crush on.</p>
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/232921/cd1fe798c14eafeb89d38ba84495c3328208650f/medium/blueguitar-caption.jpg?1482884917" class="size_m justify_left border_" />Driving home from the store I had grand visions of myself sitting on stage, strumming the shit out of Radiohead’s “Creep” (I <em>was</em> 17) and blowing people's minds. I was a few weeks short of graduating High School and leaving Laredo for good and all I wanted was to play Sarah McLachlan's ""I Will Remember You"" for my best friend at a local open mic. I had two weeks. I figured it couldn't be THAT hard.</p>
<p>I got home, pulled the guitar out of the box, gave it a strum, and was like, "THEY GAVE ME A BROKEN GUITAR."</p>
<p>It sounded like <em>shit</em>.</p>
<p>An hour later, my buddy came over to give me my first lesson and told me it just hadn't been tuned yet. I didn't know the difference.</p>
<p>We started the lesson, and I SUCKED at it. It hurt. I got impatient immediately. I hated it.</p>
<p>Every time I picked up that guitar and tried fingering through chords I was reminded of how totally inept I <img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/232921/4f8f8c3d3f14e93bab470afc6808e4bc554a9ef9/medium/alyrockstar-caption.jpg?1482884916" class="size_m justify_left border_" />was. It hurt to press my fingers down on the frets and I had no idea how to hold my hands over the strings. I could barely keep the damn thing in my lap. It felt like a foreign language.</p>
<p><a alytadros.com="" blueguitar_caption.jpg="" href="" http:="" uploads="" wp-content=""><img src="" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" /></a>I signed up for 5 weeks of guitar lessons at a local music shop, thinking that would do it. I showed up for my second group lesson with two 7-year-olds that totally kicked my ass, and never went back.</p>
<p>I never learned how to play "I Will Remember You." Instead, my crush played the guitar while I sang, and it was awkward, embarrassing and all around terrible. I missed half the notes, forgot lyrics and felt like an ass in front of a bunch of our senior class. I remember seeing one of the cute tennis players laughing under his breath and wanting to crawl under the table and die.</p>
<p>I figured I'd never sing like that again.</p>
<p>The image of that girl sitting on stage riffing on the guitar never really went away. I’d drive around in my car listening to Ani Difranco's live records for <a alyrockstar_caption.jpg="" alytadros.com="" href="" http:="" uploads="" wp-content=""><img src="" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" /></a>hours, imagining it was me. So quietly in my own time, I kept searching for really, really easy songs to play. Then at my going away party, with 15 of my closest friends, I sang “Providence” - one of the simplest Ani Difranco tunes I could find. I only knew half of it, but it was beautiful. It gave me the tiny glimmer of hope I needed to keep going.</p>
<p>So I never stopped trying. I took that guitar with me after graduation and hauled it all over Turkey and Egypt while I traveled the globe as an exchange student. Every week I'd find a lull in my schedule and pull up Mirah’s “Archipelago” or Damien Rice’s “I Remember” - cover songs simple enough that I could slowly fingerpick my way through. At some point, I'd hit a wall, feel like an idiot again, and put the guitar down. A part of me thought I'd never get it.</p>
<p>It wasn't until two years later, when I wrote my first song, that I fell in love.</p>
<p>That night - time stopped. And I was more obsessed with anything I’ve ever been. I don’t know how to describe it other than feeling like I was on drugs. Nothing else on the planet existed but the little puzzle of lyrics spilling out of me - and all the sudden playing the guitar went from being a total pain in the ass to the canvas that gave me space to sing.</p>
<p>For the first time, I sang in my own voice. I went from trying to learn other people’s songs to tapping into my own intuition and natural ear. I spent hours that night moving my way around the guitar until I found notes that carried the melody I felt in my gut. I’d fumble around trying to sing over the notes I played, and at some point I’d find something good and it would click. I’d scream or cry or laugh out loud, and that’s how I knew I was on the right track. I wrote what moved me.</p>
<p>Almost overnight, I went from playing the guitar for twenty or thirty minutes, MAX, to an average of three or four hours a day. Many times, I'd play all night. I went nowhere without my guitar. Nowhere. And very quickly, my playing improved. I got better. I was obsessed.</p>
<p>I never got over the high of writing that first night, and so naturally, over time - I got better. My songwriting got more complex and as a result, so did my guitar playing.</p>
<p>Bare in mind; I still “sucked” as a guitarist. I just learned to play <em>my</em> songs well. I remember a buddy inviting me to his studio once to “jam” - and staring at him like a deer in headlights as he barked guitar chords at me. I had <em>no idea</em> what I was doing.</p>
<p>For so many years I tried learning the way I thought I was <em>supposed</em> to. Taking lessons, trying to use a guitar pick, doing scales. I hated all of it. It wasn't until I wrote the way I WANTED TO that I found what worked for me.</p>
<p>People say you should do what you're passionate about - but sometimes, it takes some fumbling to find that passion. It’s okay if you don’t instinctively know. It took me a lot of fucking up and feeling like an ass. But the moment I found it, I knew. I lost time.</p>
<p>Here's the thing: I <em>still</em> question myself. I STILL sit down to start every song feeling completely inept as a guitarist. But I remember what it's like to fumble in the beginning, to struggle to find your footing until you finally hit that stride. At some point the voices in your head quiet down, and before you know it, time stops moving.</p>
<p>The trick is sticking in the game long enough to get past the voices.</p>
<p><strong><span color:="" style="">At that point, the love for what you becomes greater than the fear of doing it.</span></strong></p>Aly Tadrostag:alytadros.com,2005:Post/45274922014-08-03T19:35:00-04:002016-12-27T19:35:24-05:00I might be crazy for doing this.<span style="" color:="">It started out as a pipedream.</span><br style="" color:=""><br style="" color:=""><span style="" color:="">No, not the “gorgeous man frying 2 lbs of bacon for me in nothing but an apron” kind of pipedream <em>(still holding out for that one, fellas.)</em></span><br style="" color:=""><br style="" color:=""><span style="" color:="">More like the “I must be batshit to actually be going through with this” kind of pipedream.</span><br style="" color:=""><br style="" color:=""><span style="" color:="">Earlier this year I told my business coach (Jo-Ná) I wanted to finish writing my third record in Los Angeles. Unlike my first two albums, I wanted to work with other artists to create the songs, and for some reason LA struck me as the place to do it. I imagined spending a month meeting with new songwriters every single day, totally immersed in writing. I’d never done anything like it before, and couldn’t really explain why the vision kept coming to me so clearly - but it did.</span><br style="" color:=""><br style="" color:=""><span style="" color:="">I dreamt up my own little co-writing retreat. I would be in a gorgeous house filled with artists of all kinds. I wanted the house to overlook the mountains or the water so I could take hikes in the afternoon and trips to the beach in the evenings. I decided it would all be free, like a commissioned project of some sort.</span><br style="" color:=""><br style="" color:=""><span style="" color:="">We set aside the time on my calendar, and every month Jo-Ná asked how plans were coming along for LA. Every month, I pushed it back.</span><br style="" color:=""><br style="" color:=""><span style="" color:="">I tried pulling all the stops. I told her I didn’t have the money for it and <em>why the fuck can’t I just write songs in New York City?!</em> I was dating a new guy for the first time in forever. I COULDN’T LEAVE HIM FOR A MONTH! I had an important babysitting job! And Crossfit! AND...<em>and...</em></span><br style="" color:=""><br style="" color:=""><span style="" color:="">...and in reality, I was scared shitless. It was a huge risk. I had no such imaginary dream house, no record label, no publishing deal and no major LA connections.</span><br style="" color:=""><br style="" color:=""><span style="" color:="">So saying I’d somehow conjure it all up in a few weeks sounded like a nonstop ticket to crazy town. </span><br style="" color:=""><br style="" color:=""><span style="" color:=""><img src="" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" /><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/232921/f36b350cd74d8e27f2777d249483aaf211be30c6/medium/unnamed.png?1482885240" class="size_m justify_left border_" />Then, one day, a girlfriend mentioned how a friend of hers had this amazing house in LA for artists. And I knew fucking immediately: this was the house I’d dreamt of. The more she told me about it, the more I freaked. She called the house The Castle, just near the Runyon Canyon Hills and trails. Told me it housed several performance artists, composers, and writers; and they were all about promoting transformation through art. AND on occasion, they allowed people to do Artist-in-Residencies.</span><br style="" color:=""><br style="" color:=""><span style="" color:="">Then I found out the name of the nonprofit that ran the house was called “The Alchemy,” and nearly fell out of my chair. The working title for my third album? <em><strong>Alchemy.</strong></em></span><br style="" color:=""><br style="" color:=""><span style="" color:="">Seems perfect, right? Right. But I stalled. I put off sending in my application, nervous that it wouldn’t hold a candle against all the established artists who’d done residencies before me. </span><br style="" color:=""><br style="" color:=""><span style="" color:="">In the end, I just had to DO IT. I sat down at my desk, filled out the application thinking “feel like an idiot, and do it anyways,” and clicked “SEND.” Then I ran out of the room screaming. </span><br style="" color:=""><br style="" color:=""><span style="" color:="">One week and seven thousand Inbox Refreshes later, I heard back: and got a “Hell yeah."</span><br style="" color:=""><span style="" color:=""><strong>August 9-23rd, it's happening. </strong>The residency is all about pushing my boundaries and comfort zone as an artist. After two weeks of back-to-back co-write dates with other songwriters and musicians, I’ll do an intimate showcase at The Castle to share what we created.</span><br style="" color:=""><br style="" color:=""><span style="" color:="">This album will be about alchemy. About taking the difficult stuff, the crap, the stuff that scares me, and creating something beautiful. To do that, I know I’ve got to practice what I preach.</span><br style="" color:=""><span style="" color:=""> </span><br style="" color:=""><strong><span color:="" style="">Here's the thing: co-writing scares the shit out of me. </span></strong><br style="" color:=""><br style="" color:=""><span style="" color:="">People spend their entire working lives co-writing five days a week. They have the music theory background, fancy degrees and top 10 hits. I started co-writing regularly earlier this spring after taking a class online. I’ve co-written and released a few songs (like <a href="" https:="" watch="" www.youtube.com=""><span color:="" style="">Whim</span></a><a href="" https:="" watch="" www.youtube.com=""><span color:="" style="">)</span></a>, but it's still a terrifying experience. I've learned focusing on what I don't have does me no good: what I DO have is the determination to feel that fear, and do it anyways. </span><br style="" color:=""><br style="" color:=""><span style="" color:=""><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/232921/55a567527eba61ce06086ab02a8b0f4f49c09766/medium/unnamed-2.png?1482885236" class="size_m justify_right border_" /><img src="" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" />See, co-writing with a new partner is kind of like having sex for the first time. You walk in with lots of high hopes for what it’ll be, but in reality, it’s just kind of awkward. Weird noises happen. It’s incredibly vulnerable. By the time most of my songs get to you, I’ve spent dozens if not hundreds of hours going over them with a fine-tooth comb. In the beginning, some of them kind of suck. I come up with lots of stupid ideas. Which is cool, because no one ever has to witness those ideas.</span><br style="" color:=""><br style="" color:=""><span style="" color:="">Co-writing puts another talented artist you respect front and center for all that. Which is torture for a perfectionist like me. But when you FINALLY hit that flow, when you stop caring about sounding like an idiot, it can be magic.</span><br style="" color:=""><br style="" color:=""><span style="" color:="">I’ve written some of my best songs in co-writing sessions. And frankly, I want to write songs that change lives.</span><br style="" color:=""><br style="" color:=""><span style="" color:="">So I’m barreling into my fear. Day by day, I’m calling up every single person I know who knows a person in LA, and filling up my calendar.</span><br style="" color:=""><br style="" color:=""><span style="" color:="">I’m waking up each morning plagued by fear and anxiety that i’m going to totally fuck this up, and then sitting down at my desk and doing it anyways. Sometimes I click “send” on an email, and then run out of <img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/232921/ccec2eaabd91972da7ef69e08cf64b19f6326665/medium/10917-694482784057-443756598183080228-n.jpg?1482885235" class="size_m justify_left border_" />the room screaming. Literally. But I will have my two weeks of writing dates. And if I don’t, I will be at music venues every night looking for other artists to connect with.</span> <span style="" color:=""><a alytadros.com="" href="" http:="" uploads="" wp-content=""><img src="" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" /></a>I could give up. A part of me wants to. I’m terrified I’ll make an ass of myself.</span> <span style="" color:=""><span color:="" style="">Deep down, I know there is no way I can fail. Just showing up means that I’ve won. I will learn from this experience. At the end of the day, </span><span color:="" style=""><strong>life is too short to let the fact that I might be crazy stand in my way. </strong></span></span><br style="" color:=""><br style="" color:=""><strong><span color:="" style="">PS. West Coasters! My showcase will be August 22 in Hollywood, and is invite only. Seating is extremely limited, so I'm opening this up to you first. If you'd like to attend, leave a comment below and we'll contact you with RSVP info!</span></strong>Aly Tadrostag:alytadros.com,2005:Post/45275402014-07-11T19:55:00-04:002016-12-27T19:53:36-05:00Bringing Sexy Back.<em>"See her arms? How she moves like a Goddess?”</em><br><br>Joseph, my 65-year-old Dominican salsa partner was pointing out one of the seasoned Latin dancers on the ballroom dance floor. She moved so beautifully, hips swaying side to side, arms out like a flamenco dancer. It was HOT.<br><br>But when Joseph took me out, I stiffened up. He looked at me and told me I was there to be gorgeous, to be sexy. And I was terrified if I did much more than sway my hips, he’d think I was coming onto him. Or I would look stupid.<br><br>Most of all, I felt like my sensuality was a threat. So I kept myself small, still watching the gorgeous salsa dancer out of the corner of my eye.<br><br>I went home that night and wrote in my journal about how I felt like I’d lost that feminine, sexual side of myself. Being a tough musician and running with the boys had made me feel like I had to prove I wasn't using sexuality to gain an upper hand. I was afraid my bandmates would say I was prying for attention behind my back. So I dulled myself down.<br><br><span style="" color:=""><strong>I didn’t think singer-songwriters were <em>allowed</em> to be sexy.</strong></span> I also grew up in the south, in a pretty conservative Christian household.<br><br>So whether or not I was aware of it, I conformed to the idea of what I was taught a "proper lady" did. I felt I had to apologize for swearing on stage or playing racier songs. I barely ever talked about sexuality, or my desire to express it. I NEVER wore low-cut tops or skin-tight clothes. I’d always been told I <em>couldn’t</em> - not if I wanted to be taken seriously.<br><br>Truth is, I kind of missed the part of myself that loved throwing on a short skirt, a hot pair of heels, and spend half the night dancing. Between AA meetings, working on my music, inhaling coffee and chasing after 5-year-olds, I lost pretty much all drive to do any of that. I thought since I’d gotten sober, my sexy nights in da' club were over and done with. And then, I found Mama Gena.<br><br><a alytadros.com="" href="" mamagenaposter.png="" uploads="" wp-content="" http:=""><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/232921/7c57f19399113d2fe72cda1a8a4a0c0673de3ef7/medium/mamagenaposter.png?1482886302" class="size_m justify_right border_" /><img src="" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" /></a>Five months ago, a friend turned me onto Mama Gena's “School of the Womanly Arts" - a five month program that gives women the tools to lead a pleasure-filled life. I walked up to her seminar, a room draped with pink feather boas and rose petals, and decided she was insane. I almost left. I thought: <em>I’m a musician. I don’t DO pink.</em><br><br>But something about stepping foot in that room made me feel alive again. I was surrounded by 800 women being totally open and vulnerable; together we danced, cried, and screamed like crazy people (my personal favorite).<br><br><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/232921/426a144d316d391a37ed8a0616e39c065f56096d/medium/mamagena1-300x199.png?1482886297" class="size_m justify_right border_" />The School of The Womanly Arts teaches women to use the power of desire, not effort, to attain their goals. Mama Gena believes women are the 'greatest untapped natural resource in the world.'<br><br>Basically, when a woman is happy, everyone is happy. What attracted me to her was her no-holds barred passion - and well, it looked fucking fun. She rocked the stage in fabulous designer heels, sparkly pink dresses, and dropped f-bombs. She was, in essence, everything I want to be in life. I wanted what she had. So after enrolling in the school, I started a series of tiny experiments: <a alytadros.com="" babysittingoprev.png="" href="" uploads="" wp-content="" http:=""><img src="" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" /></a>I began dressing up every day for work.<br><br>Even when I left for the gym, I left wearing something that made me feel beautiful. Funny thing happened: I started getting hit on on the subway. Instead of wearing sweatpants to babysitting, I threw on a dress instead, and all of the sudden the doorman at my boss’s building started to remember my name. Sure, I looked nicer, but the main difference was in how I <em>felt</em>. I carried myself like a woman who was worth the time and care it took to get dressed up in the morning, not the stressed-out starving artist hustling to make rent. I smiled and looked people in the eye with confidence.<br><br><strong><span color:="" style="">I dressed up every day like the woman I wanted to become.</span></strong><br><br><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/232921/78728ed02f12be68ae70d99ca431e43657eeae5c/medium/babysittingoprev-300x177.png?1482886294" class="size_m justify_left border_" />Second came my desires. I walked into Mama Gena’s with a healthy list of goals: <em>Increase income by X amount. Sell-out X room. Finish album by X date.</em> I <em>knew</em> deep down <span style="" color:=""><strong>I’d put a glass ceiling on how much I could ask of the world.</strong></span><br><br>I listened as other women listed off desires for six-figure books deals and legendary love affairs and I thought <em>BAH! Poor things! They don’t even know they’re insane!</em> Truth is, I was jealous of them.<br><br>It’s easy to stay small and ask for crumbs. <span style="" color:="">It takes balls to admit you want something so big and so grand. </span>So, I started a running list of my desires. Career, dating, personal desires. Then, the funny coincidences started up.<br><br>The guy I was dating told me he’d been wanting to take me to tango lessons. Another bought expensive tickets to a show I’d been secretly dying to catch. I felt like a magician. It made perfect sense. I was playing an active role in manifesting my desires, but it wasn’t hocus-pocus.<br><br><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/232921/f35b1c82246ea9af413dfd5cb44e38bafd4e3219/medium/mamgena2.png?1482886296" class="size_m justify_left border_" />The first step in realizing my desires was finding the courage to acknowledge and communicate I wanted them at all. THEN, I had to be willing to receive them. One of my biggest desires was to take a class in the spring that I just didn’t have the money for. I wanted it so <em>badly</em> I wrote it in my journal, shared it with my girlfriends, the works. Sure enough, a week before the class started - the professor blind sighted me and out of nowhere, gave me a scholarship into the class.<br><br><strong>My mind. was blown.</strong> Here’s the thing: when I got real with myself and started admitting that I had these big, grand-ass desires, I started looking for <em>evidence</em> that they were coming true. So with confidence, I picked up the phone and talked to my professor. I agreed to go out on the date with that guy. I showed up with the faith that the Universe would hold up its end of the deal. And it did. Finally came my relationships.<br><br>Walking into Mama Gena’s, I was also a bit of a lone-ranger in the girlfriend department. I work in a male-dominated industry. Shit, most of us do. The point is, in my adult life I’ve never had a group of girlfriends, and secretly hated those that did. I’d been burned and backstabbed by groups of women. I thought women were “high-drama” and ""high-maintenance."" And I <em>am</em> a women. Mama Gena stuck me in a room of 300 women FULL of feelings. As I listened to their stories over the four months, I grew to love and appreciate every single one of them. I saw parts of myself in each of them.<br><br><span style="" color:=""><strong><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/232921/b65fb5fcd3fd0acbe0dfdb121bc48abd0479bb97/medium/mamagena3.png?1482886295" class="size_m justify_right border_" />As self-hatred melted into self-love, I started appreciating my relationships with other women, too.</strong></span> Each one of them felt like a sister. We held each other up, comforted, encouraged, listened, danced. I started spending my weekends with women. Going to burlesque classes and dinner parties. Talking about our great loves, great careers, great desires. <a alytadros.com="" href="" mamgena2.png="" uploads="" wp-content="" http:=""><img src="" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" /></a>My sisters came to shows and cheered louder than anybody in the audience. They held me when I cried and cheered on my biggest victories. Then they encouraged me to go even higher. They saw the best parts of me when I couldn’t see them in myself. I’ve realized that as women, we cannot thrive in isolation. It’s just not any fun.<br><br>There is so much love to go around - so much we can do for one another. <a alytadros.com="" href="" mamagena3.png="" uploads="" wp-content="" http:=""><img src="" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" /></a>In May, I graduated from Mama Gena’s School of the Womanly Arts. The day before graduation, I hopped on stage in my little red dress with two gorgeous backing vocalists and one hot backup dancer to perform for 300 of my sisters. I’d had this secret desire to expand my show into a sexy, fun performance - and with the help of my band and a few girlfriends, we made it happen. I stretched the idea of what I thought my show was <em>supposed</em> to look like, and in the end, we got a standing ovation. It was a big lesson to me.<br><br><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/232921/b908bbf30e2a511be235abcfc1b22908d418bbe9/medium/girls1.png?1482886284" class="size_m justify_right border_" />Always show up as the woman I want to be. Let my crazy-ass desires lead the way. And make sure to bring my girlfriends along for the ride. <a alytadros.com="" girls1.png="" href="" uploads="" wp-content="" http:=""><img src="" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" /></a>Is there a woman in your life who has taken you higher? Then I encourage you to try this tiny experiment: send her a tiny note, text or phone call of gratitude. <span style="" color:=""><strong><em>Notice</em> how celebrating her greatness makes you feel.</strong></span><br><br>PS. A HUGE thanks for everyone who made it to the webshow on Concert Window! I'm so appreciative of all of you who tuned in to hear me a bunch material for the new album; your feedback was amazing! <a alytadros.com="" concertwindow.png="" href="" uploads="" wp-content="" http:=""><img src="" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" /><br><br><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/232921/0b65bfa6e04d3192bba45325fcd2bd983fa6856c/medium/concertwindow.png?1482886278" class="size_m justify_center border_" /></a>Aly Tadrostag:alytadros.com,2005:Post/45274932014-07-08T19:45:00-04:002016-12-27T19:45:06-05:00She proved me wrong.I didn't think it was going to work.<br><br>I thought like with everything else I signed up for, I'd waste my money, my parent's money, and get nowhere. Despite all that, one year ago I hired my business coach, Jo-Ná Williams.<br><br>I do well with structured guidance. AA had worked for me in the past. Signing up for workout bootcamps and classes had worked for me. I loved the feeling of being a part of a team.<br><br><span style="" color:=""><strong>There's still a part of me that feels less-than for not knowing all the answers. I hate admitting it.</strong></span><br><br><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/232921/53c2aa5e7479d3d1eabf417bb9261a897e80096d/medium/risk-1-caption-300x247.png?1482885712" class="size_m justify_left border_" />I first heard about Jo-Ná at <em>Off The Charts</em>, a conference for entrepreneurs. The night before I'd been out on a date and relapsed. I was too embarrassed to tell the guy I'd been sober for a week so I drank. All I had was two drinks. Then I stopped at the gas station on the way home and picked up a bunch of junk food, went home, drank more and threw up. I was up until 3am and then woke up three hours later to volunteer at the conference feeling like death.<br><br><a alytadros.com="" href="" risk_1_caption.png="" uploads="" wp-content="" http:=""><img src="" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" /></a>I didn't really know how to slow down. I knew I needed a break from touring but I was afraid if I did I would become totally irrelevant.<br><br>Before our first phone call, Jo-Ná and I had never met. She knew nothing about me. I totally expected her to feed me some sort of BS Social Marketing Campaign that promised to propel my career, like all the others. Instead, she called me out on my bullshit. She intuitively knew I was struggling with an eating disorder, drinking, and barely writing. NOBODY knew about those things.<br><br>I was shocked. I signed up to work with her because I was desperate. Nothing else was working. I was taking all the steps that seemed right: booking all the right venues, spending thousands on publicists, getting all the right press. But I was so unhappy.<br><br>I thought I was such a good performer, but I was still playing in half-empty bars.<br><br>So we met. From the first day, Jo-Ná saw something in me that I refused to see for myself.<br><br>It was too scary to believe I could really, really achieve. I knew what it took to play a restaurant gig or prepare for a show at Rockwood Music Hall. Build a career towards the Grammy's or Radio City Music Hall? THAT seemed way out of my realm of possibility. There was a little seedling of a voice inside of me that knew I was capable of all those things. In truth, I believed there was a glass ceiling on how far my career could go. Jo-Ná showed up with a hammer, ready to break through all those beliefs.<br><br><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/232921/6674712fe2f684500eaaa1a85b7264c74c5838eb/medium/jona-1-300x293.png?1482885711" class="size_m justify_left border_" />Then we began our work, beginning with my story and my mission as an artist. We discovered my innate belief that I was put on this planet to make music, perform, and share my stories. That every woman has the right to live a life she loves.<br><br>I began the process of opening up. That’s when I wrote an honest, open letter to you about where I was in my life.<br><br>Telling you I was taking a break from the road, and sharing my stories instead. Every time I wrote a new email I felt like I wanted to throw my phone out the window and hide. Writing about my dad, being rejected from CMJ, getting sober…but the responses came back, each time. More powerful than the last.<br><br><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/232921/8389f5edafa3c58eeeadfd536835c22cad94d2e9/medium/photoshoot-274x300.jpg?1482885711" class="size_m justify_right border_" />We did a complete rebrand: made-over my website, photos, and promo materials, all based on the message I wanted to put out into the world. It took MONTHS of working from inside out; writing and rewriting my story, experimenting with the newsletter and planning for <strong><span color:="" style="">the <a alytadros.com="" growing-a-pair-and-going-pro="" href="" http:=""><span color:="" style="">photoshoot</span></a></span></strong>.<br><br>The website hit a bajillion delays, and each time I freaked out and wanted to give up - Jo-Ná lovingly, but firmly, pushed me through it. Then came the REALLY uncomfortable shit.<br><br>Jo-Ná had me look at all of my finances for the first time, and we worked on adjusting my mindset from that of a starving artist to CEO entrepreneur: as someone who has something of value to offer the world. I started canceling all my restaurant gigs and politely declining the shows that would only deter my focus on creating the best art I could. Each week I started on my assignments and worked on my stories. And each week, the voice telling me I COULD got a little bit louder. It was strengthened each day I didn’t drink. <br><br><span style="" color:=""><strong>Every promise I kept to myself was a tiny victory.</strong></span><br><br>I still struggle with self-sabotage, with not getting emails back in time or scheduling rehearsals with enough notice, but I'm getting better. That's just part of the human condition.<br><br>The difference is now I believe I can get there, and that it's a process - a marathon on not a race. I have <img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/232921/a66d7094aec0eebb2fe2941e075757e47c3690bc/medium/website1-caption-274x300.png?1482885710" class="size_m justify_right border_" />the bigger picture in my mind and that keeps me motivated. That bigger picture comes from a place of love. I know I'm worth it. I’m clear on my message now and I do believe I have something very worthwhile to say - that I can help women and inspire artists to live a life of joy, passion and inspiration. That it's our birthright to be abundant. That we create our own reality. We’re worth it because we exist. It's crazy, all the resistance. I’m realizing now that up until recently I didn’t actually trust Jo-Ná; I was constantly suspicious of her motivations.<br><br>Turns out, I just didn’t trust myself. Everything we project onto other people is a reflection of ourselves. I thought she wouldn’t be good, or genuine, that she might be one of the crooks in the industry out to make a buck off of independent artists. I didn’t tru<span style="" color:="">st<span font-size:="" style=""> </span><em>my judgment </em>or <em>my ability to follow through.</em></span> <img src="" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" /> I feel differently now. I've proven to myself that I do follow through, and I will. And all the sudden, I'm more open hearted with Jo-Ná.<br><br>I see her as a person, I want to support her, and aid her in supporting me. You can waste all your energy trying to make other people “wrong” or questioning their motivations - but the second you stop and just see <em>them</em> - let down the walls and let them in - it’s just so much easier. My gut instinct told me to go with her, that it was the right decision. <em><strong>I </strong></em>was afraid to believe I needed the help, and that it somehow made me less of a musician.<br><br><em><strong>I </strong></em>didn’t trust myself to hire Jo-Ná and actually do the work.<em><strong> I </strong></em>thought I’d waste it. In the end, <span style="" color:=""><strong>the only person standing in my way was me.</strong></span><br><br>I needed her to show me that. Maybe it's like I needed her to hold up the mirror and see who I really am, not this image of the musician who has it all together or the made-up story about the girl who never gets shit done and will never be good enough. <a alytadros.com="" href="" uploads="" wp-content="" http:=""><img src="" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" /></a>You know what amazes me? That everything has worked out.
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/232921/7a9143742bc8f9d585e992a0e93365f14719ef64/medium/jona-2caption-290x300.png?1482885708" class="size_m justify_right border_" /></p>EVERYTHING. Each project we've taken on has turned into something beautiful. The website and brand launch, the photoshoot I thought I'd totally botch (and avoided scheduling forever), the live streamed shows… We're really just getting started. I'm just starting to shine. For the first time I really feel like myself. I love who I am and who I'm becoming. I'm capable of so much more than I ever imagined. Jo-Ná sees something bigger in me that I may not see yet. But I know it's there. I've gotten here because I asked for help.<br><br>Together, we’ve gone through my old stories. I've fucked up. I've missed so many deadlines and given her a million reasons why I couldn't do what she told me to. But I haven't given up.<br><br>She keeps loving me through it, and so will I. You think it's going to be a straight shot up, but the road is so much more convoluted. You have to learn and relearn some lessons a million times over.<br><br><span style="" color:=""><strong>That’s the joy in it. You never stop learning.<img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/232921/a882713a49fba0eddaf10114be1db40518eb5092/medium/3-e1405699575671.jpg?1482885706" class="size_m justify_center border_" /></strong></span>Aly Tadrostag:alytadros.com,2005:Post/45275412014-05-21T19:55:00-04:002017-02-05T16:49:43-05:00My One Year Anniversary<p><em>What has she DONE? She looks gorgeous! When we met she was so...mousey!</em> </p>
<p>I was a little shocked when Derek told me what our girlfriend has said. It'd been four years since I'd seen her last at SXSW. Apparently, sitting across from me in her living room, I looked like a completely different person. </p>
<p dir="ltr"><img src="//alytadros.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/05/at_1-235x300.jpg" class="size_m justify_left border_" alt="at_1" height="354" width="278" /></p> <br>She didn't know it. When I met her back then, I was: <p>-bulimic </p>
<p>-hating what I saw in the mirror </p>
<p>-sneaking flasks of moonshine into <em>my own gigs</em> </p>
<p>-running myself ragged on the road </p>
<p>-using wine or sleeping pills to fall asleep at night </p>
<p>-living out of a suitcase </p>
<p>-intensely insecure about my music, constantly seeking approval </p>
<p>-almost completely consumed by stress and anxiety. </p>
<p>Over the years, I’d tried slowing down. I made promises to myself to ease up on my drinking and be better to my body. I’d make it a few days and then somebody would invite me to a party and I’d throw in the towel. </p>
<p>One year ago, I made a decision that no matter what - <strong>I was going to change my life. </strong>What led to that decision was a series of breakdowns. <br><em> <br><strong>Breakdown #1</strong></em> </p>
<p>It’s really easy to convince people everything is fine if you’re “busy.” But I was sad. Then a friend of mine got sober and I realized I was completely envious of her. Scratch that. <em>I was jealous.</em> </p>
<p>In retrospect, I realized I wasn’t jealous of her. I wanted what she had. I knew then that I had to stop drinking because<em> I didn't think I could.</em> </p>
<p><em><strong>Breakdown #2</strong></em> </p>
<p>I’d made it a few days sober, and then a friend introduced me to someone I really hit it off with. I was too embarrassed to tell him I didn’t drink, so I had A glass of wine. Then one turned into three. The next night, we went out on the town and I easily doubled that. I woke up in bed next to him dehydrated and sleep-deprived, with that terrible sinking insecure feeling - <em>does he like me, did I go too far, do I offer him breakfast or just hide in the bathroom while he puts on his shoes?</em> </p>
<p>I walked him out, and he didn’t ask for my number.<strong> I felt so<em> pathetic.</em></strong> </p>
<p>I had my premiere in Interview Magazine that morning - and on a day I should have been celebrating a huge milestone, I just sat on the grass at Zilker Park crying. I felt like dirt. </p>
<p><em><strong>Breakdown #3 </strong></em> </p>
<p>Two weeks in, no alcohol. I relapsed again on vacation because I was too ashamed to tell my girlfriends why I wasn't drinking. </p>
<p>Then, I just got tired of breaking down. </p>
<p>I realized I couldn’t do it on my own, so I started going to meetings. Then I kept going. I slipped up, and went back again. And again. </p>
<p><strong>May 21, 2013, I stopped slipping. Today, I'm celebrating my first year sober. No bulimia, no drinking.</strong> </p>
<p>What happened was that I committed to start living my life from a place of love. I recognized that touring constantly without rest, drinking nightly, controlling my body with food - they were all forms of abuse. I kept getting depressed because my body (understandably so) was FREAKING OUT AT ME. </p>
<p>I wasn’t born a super hero. I'm the kind of person who signs up for a course or a program and then gets really afraid of flunking. Like, dropping-out mid course. It's happened so many times. This time - IT DIDN'T. I took it a day a time, I gave myself time and space to rest (off the road), do nothing, get really sad, and then have a great fucking time. </p>
<p><img src="//gallery.mailchimp.com/340578aa6de09c819081210f0/images/5acda8fb-4cf0-4bec-bc30-39ba0a1bfe51.png" class="size_m justify_left border_" alt="" height="286" style="margin: 5px;" width="280" /> </p>
<p>I went rock climbing. I started going to Samba Dance Parties where men in their 70’s swept the floor with me. I started weight lifting, and instituted a "no-body shaming" rule with all of my girlfriends. I declined conference after music conference that I just didn't have the energy for. </p>
<p>I started glowing. I laugh louder now and make more inappropriate jokes than ever. I'm like the drunkest sober person on the face of the earth. Sometimes I stand on the subway platform with my headphones on and dance like a crazy person, and it's more fun than I ever had sitting at a bar trying to forget all the reasons I was overwhelmed. </p>
<p>Am I perfect? Hell no. I still get insecure. But now I value my body enough to get through the uncomfortable stuff. </p>
<p>There have been so many times in the last year I’ve wanted to throw in the towel. I’ve caught myself standing in the junk food aisle at Duane Reade wanting to binge & purge, or staring down a glass of scotch on the kitchen counter. I’ve had total emotional breakdowns and eaten until I was sick, and then forced myself to go to bed just so I wouldn’t throw up. <br><br> </p>
<p><img src="//alytadros.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/05/3-199x300.jpg" class="size_m justify_left border_" alt="-3" height="300" width="199" /> <br>I’ve learned to be really gentle with myself. Only handle what is immediately in front of me - and when shit gets really hairy, reach out. I’ve had friends call me at 1AM while I hid out in the back of gritty music venues and rescue me in Indiana to take me to AA meetings. All of this has taught me that I don’t have to endure this stuff on my own. </p>
<p>Instead of drinking to numb my emotions, I chose to take my struggles and turn them into fuel. I started sharing these stories with you. </p>
<p>So sitting on my girlfriends couch, I DID look amazing. I was 8 months sober and finally really proud of the choices I was making. I’ve gotten up every day for the last year and made the decision not to drink. </p>
<p>I know this shit won’t ever go away, but I’ve made commitment to stay on a positive path. No matter how times I fall. I trust and love myself enough to know that I will not stop. </p>
<p> </p>
<p><strong>For that, I am so incredibly grateful.</strong> </p>Aly Tadrostag:alytadros.com,2005:Post/45275422014-04-28T19:55:00-04:002017-02-05T16:49:43-05:00Thank you: Fan Appreciation Live Stream<p> </p>
<p dir="ltr"><a href="http://alytadros.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/04/AT_May1FBBanner_Final.png"><img src="//alytadros.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/04/AT_May1FBBanner_Final.png" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" alt="AT_May1FBBanner_Final" height="315" width="851" /></a></p>
<p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-a1595c8f-a958-f64a-8170-87a21c73ee1d">I'm floored. </p>
<p dir="ltr">The response to my last email was overwhelming. I was flooded with emails, texts, and phone calls full of encouragement, love and support for what I've been going through with my mom. </p>
<p dir="ltr">Thank you for assuring me it was OK to freak out and slow the fuck down. Turns out, that's exactly what I needed. </p>
<p dir="ltr">A happy update: Mom had her surgery last week ago and it couldn't have gone any better. Her report came back yesterday and - NO CANCER!</p>
<p dir="ltr">This news is the best we could've hoped for.</p>
<p dir="ltr">I feel like a massive weight has been lifted off my shoulders.</p>
<p dir="ltr">I want to say thank you for all your support - and since I got TONS of requests for another livestream show - next Thursday I'm hosting a very intimate <a href="http://www.concertwindow.com/shows/5565-fan-appreciation-concert" target="_blank">livestream concert</a> just for you!</p>
<p dir="ltr"><a href="http://www.concertwindow.com/shows/5565-fan-appreciation-concert" target="_blank"><img src="https://gallery.mailchimp.com/340578aa6de09c819081210f0/images/Screen_shot_2014_04_28_at_4.53.43_PM.png" class="size_orig justify_none border_" alt="" height="307" width="550" /></a></p> I'll be taking song requests before and during the concert, too!<br> <br>Can't wait to see you there,<br>Aly<p> </p>Aly Tadrostag:alytadros.com,2005:Post/45275442014-04-11T19:55:00-04:002018-07-14T06:42:56-04:00I'm Slowing Down.<p>I stared at the cursor flashing in the empty email sitting in my inbox, then slowly crawled down onto the floor and erupted into tears. </p>
<p>Just two days before that, I had been riding high after an amazing launch party. From speaking at TEDxYouth, to showcasing at NAMM and launching my new site - I was flying high on adrenaline, ambition, and caffeine. The night of my Rebrand Launch Party, you showed up in droves and tuned in for my live stream concert, contributing enough for me to cover the entire cost of building my new website. </p>
<p>I was <em>floored.</em> </p>
<p>A week before my big launch, my mom went in for emergency surgery. </p>
<p>I <em>powered through.</em> </p>
<p>Then my car got totaled, and the guys who hit me fled the scene. </p>
<p>I <em>brushed it off.</em> </p>
<p>Then my mom's surgery results came back positive for Ovarian cancer. </p>
<p>It was THEN that I hit the floor. </p>
<p>I got sick. I didn't care about bacon jokes or answering emails. I couldn't concentrate long enough to write. I was just sad. </p>
<p>I've hit walls - but coming down from that high to total paralysis was a completely new experience for me. Double that on top of all the guilt from not wanting to work, and I had a perfect storm of insecurity, fear, and self-loathing. </p>
<p>Like, if I had more discipline, I'd <em>want</em> to work. Everywhere I looked, my friends and colleagues were accomplishing big things and I kept comparing my "poor work ethic" to theirs. </p>
<p>I couldn't. I just couldn't. I handled losing my dad earlier this year with grace - but I had expected that. Learning that my mom had cancer made me feel like the ceiling had fallen out on my chest. </p>
<p>My mom had been having strange symptoms for about a year. Vomiting, discomfort; but she got so caught up in taking care of my dad and maybe caught up in her own fear that she never saw a doctor. By the time she hit the surgeons' table she had a tumor the size of a volleyball. </p>
<p>It freaked me out. At the time of her surgery I hadn't seen a doctor in over two years. I put so much pressure on myself to "be strong." To power through and not break down. SHIT BREAKS DOWN. I firmly believe that when it does, it's our body trying to tell us what our minds won't: slow down. </p>
<p>So here's the deal: I'm slowing down. I'm in Laredo - headed to Houston in a few days for my mom's surgery, to be there to hold her hand (and also, so she can hold mine). She's in great spirits and so far the tests are looking good. I don't know what's coming next, and for now all I can manage is a day at a time. </p>
<p>I'm scared. And angry. I'm angry at my mom for not taking better care of herself and scared every time someone asks when my next show is and I can't give them an answer. I get scared that I’m not good enough unless I’m on stage or releasing albums or making you laugh. </p>
<p>My mom’s cancer diagnoses is teaching me that it’s OK to not be strong. In fact, it’s important to admit to myself and the people around me when I’m not. How else will they know when to hold my hand? </p>
<p>I know it's been a while since I've written. So this is me reaching out. I'm still songwriting, bit by bit, dreaming up the next album, and will continue to write you. My updates and newsletters might come at a slower pace than usual - but when they do, always know I really mean it. I've still got so much to learn and grow, and I'm so incredibly grateful to have you with me. </p>
<p>Sending you so much love from Texas,<br>Aly </p>
<p> </p>Aly Tadrostag:alytadros.com,2005:Post/45275522014-02-18T20:05:00-05:002017-02-05T16:49:43-05:00Doing what scared me: How Laredo led me to TED.<p>It’s easy to discount where you come from. But have you ever stopped to think about all the ways you’re stronger because of it? </p>
<p>Where I grew up, nobody was a “full time” artist. It didn’t exist. </p>
<p>I did community theatre, but our budgets were tiny. Went to open mics at artsy cafes that all eventually closed down. It was heartbreaking. The message was clear: the arts aren’t<em>really</em> important here. </p>
<p>So I left Laredo at seventeen, and I made a promise to myself to never turn back. </p>
<p>As I navigated my music career, I learned to turn to mentors for guidance. I used their stories to inspire me to do what I thought wasn’t possible. </p>
<p>That’s how I first heard about TED. </p>
<p>I was in the studio recording my first album, and Derek Sivers sent me Elizabeth Gilbert’s talk on Creative Genius. I watched it, in awe - and ended up writing one of my most personal songs. </p>
<p>After that, I was hooked. <br><br><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/232921/5fbf571ec30c759a4a794058e4d5bb1f5e139762/large/unnamed-6.png?1482886986" class="size_l justify_center border_" /><br><br>I started watching TED Talks to pull me out of depressed days, inspire me while folding laundry, and get me going before hitting a run. I drew so much strength from my hero’s stories - Amanda Palmer’s talk on The Power of Asking reminded me of the endless generosity I’d found on the road. Brene Brown’s talks on Vulnerability and Shame inspired me to get sober, get honest and get real with my demons. </p>
<p><strong>I was a bonafide TEDhead.</strong> </p>
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/232921/88850372c2570fa7f42a093fe7990ece898da28e/medium/unnamed-5.png?1482887030" class="size_m justify_right border_" />I remember thinking - <em>if only I’d heard this stuff five, SHIT - ten years ago. </em> I might have spared myself a lot of teenage angst. In all my years as a student in Laredo the only inspirational speaker we got was an army recruiter. I wanted to change that. </p>
<p>I contacted an old teacher from my high school and asked if I could speak to his class while I was in town. </p>
<p>Then I told his students the story of how I dropped out of college and started living my dream. Visiting his classes ignited a fire in me. So much, that I did it each time I came to Laredo to play. </p>
<p>After every speech, a few students would pull me aside so frustrated they were in tears -<em> I want to be a singer but my parents think it’s not a real job, I love cooking but everyone says I should go to law school.</em> </p>
<p>I just thought,<em> whoa.</em> </p>
<p>I saw myself in each one of them. Ten years ago, I <em>was</em> them. </p>
<p>When I heard Laredo would be hosting their first TEDxYouth conference, it seemed all too perfect. I applied immediately. I wasn’t totally sure what I’d be speaking about - but I had a good hunch.... </p>
<p>When I got news that I was accepted, I kind of freaked out. People come together at TED to give the best talk of their life: share the most innovative, cutting edge new ideas. All in the hopes of inspiring others. To be frank, I was nervous as hell. That’s a lot of pressure. </p>
<p>Now I wanted to use <em>my voice</em> to inspire others. </p>
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/232921/fcf2320f76f5206bf217fdb75614d9f0a242efd0/medium/unnamed-3.png?1482886863" class="size_m justify_right border_" />I’d been to Laredo a million times to put on big shows. That was all well and good, but this was my chance to share the story of how it all happened. <em>Explain</em> how I did it - and why I believed everyone in that room could, too. <strong>I wanted to share the same principle that got me to TED in the first place - that fear is a compass. <em>Do what scares you.</em></strong> </p>
<p>I enlisted so much help - reaching out to every friend I could think of to refine my talk. Three times a day I went through my speech, recording it and posting it on privately on Youtube for critiques. We were on the road - so that meant running my talk in parking lots, laundromats, and airplane bathrooms. </p>
<p>The morning I boarded my flight to Laredo, I got news that I was the closing speaker. I was beyond freaking humbled and excited. I wanted to send everyone home on an inspired high. </p>
<p>This was my chance to tell them all the things nobody ever told me. </p>
<p>Giving my first TED Talk was something I’d dreamt of since first watching Elizabeth Gilbert’s talk on Creativity. It meant<strong> so much</strong> to finally realize that dream in the city that molded me into the big dreamer I am today. </p>
<p>That little community theatre and artsy cafe open mic nurtured a dream in me. </p>
<p><em><strong>How has where you come from shaped who you are today?</strong></em> </p>
<p><strong>Ask yourself.</strong> You never know where it could lead...<br><br><a contents="" data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hs2N6b3eyGM" target="_blank"><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/232921/e571d4fb132b1c5cc91bbd42eb1267ceaa638038/original/screen-shot-2014-03-10-at-9-26-50-am1.png?1482887032" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></a></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.5em;">Watch my TEDxYouth Laredo Talk </span><a data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hs2N6b3eyGM" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.5em;" target="_blank">HERE</a><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.5em;">.</span></p>Aly Tadrostag:alytadros.com,2005:Post/45275542014-02-06T20:15:00-05:002016-12-27T20:14:03-05:00Walking through the front door: The year everything changed at NAMM<p><strong><em>How the hell do I do THAT?</em></strong><br><br><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/232921/e6e987890315c40d3cb50d62ab3910cf93f77909/medium/unnamed-5.jpg?1482887354" class="size_m justify_none border_none" alt="" /> <br> <br>I stood dead center of the Cordoba Guitars booth, staring up at an huge poster of a pretty brunette with a classical guitar, sprawled out in the backseat of a convertible. She looked so happy and confident, and I remember wondering if she was even a musician. <br> <br>It was four years ago, and I was NAMM, the world’s largest trade-show for music gear. Imagine Guitar Center, times ten thousand. <br> <br>I hadn’t exactly snuck in, but I wasn’t exactly invited, either. <br> <br><strong>YEAR 1</strong> <br>My first year there, I spent all three days walking around the thousands of vendor booths, trying out guitar after guitar, dreaming of an endorsement deal. It made me feel so needy. Like, <em>will you take me? Will <strong>ANYBODY</strong> take me? </em>I didn’t even know what I wanted in a guitar; I just wanted to be wanted. For someone to tell me I <strong>mattered</strong>. <br> <br><strong>I felt tiny.</strong> <br> <br><strong>YEAR 2</strong> <br>My second year at NAMM, I was fresh off the heels of signing an amazing endorsement deal with Fender and Guild Guitars. And guess what? Instead of feeling tiny, I felt like a massive raging impostor. Like, who the fuck just gave this janky self-taught singer-songwriter/babysitter an endorsement deal? Did they know who I was? HADN’T THEY DONE THEIR HOMEWORK?! <br> <br>When I saw other bands showcasing, I felt a little kicked in the gut.<em><strong>You still don’t REALLY belong here</strong>, </em>the chatterbox in my head told me. <br> <br>I remember stopping in the Marriott Hotel to watch the bands play in awe, wondering, again -<em> How do I do THAT?”</em> <br> <br>I still felt like a fraud - but ONE thing had changed. I had an endorsement, so I didn’t need another guitar. I stopped going from booth to booth trying to win over companies. What I <strong>did </strong>want was friends. So one night, I took a few drink tickets and started offering them to strangers. I made it a point to <em>really</em> listen in conversation, instead of waiting for an opportunity to jump in and talk about my music. <br> <br>I walked away with two new wonderful friendships that I maintain to this day. <br> <br><strong>YEAR 3</strong> <br>This year, I applied directly to NAMM. Out of 600+ bands, I was accepted as a showcasing artist. Booked twice on two of the biggest stages at the conference (including that Marriott stage). For a conference that draws <strong>over 90,000 people. </strong>I was STOKED! <br> <br><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/232921/1e1df8b66023e62913a62612726ac44ee6fde797/small/unnamed-2.jpg?1482887361" class="size_s justify_right border_" />Then Fender contacted me about playing on the Guild stage. Twice. The Fender team would be there to see me play with my trio for the first time ever. Then…<strong>I got nervous.</strong> For better or worse, if they didn’t know who I was then, they’d definitely know now. <br> <br>I prepared like crazy. Watched hours and hours of live production coaching videos and set up two-intensive rehearsals. It freaked me the fuck out, but I emailed my bandmates telling them <strong>we were going to prepare a set fit for an audience of thousands.</strong> I was sure they’d think I was batshit, but I had to get past that fear if we were ever going to grow. <br> <br>Instead, they showed up to rehearsal just as stoked to get their hands dirty and build a new show. <br> <br>I was determined to do a great job of representing Guild, but most of all - <strong>I was done playing small. </strong>Done throwing together set lists at the last minute and sort-of improvising my way song to song. I wanted a polished, fucking killer set. I wanted to know I had done everything in my power to<strong> create an experience</strong> for people to be <strong>engaged</strong> and <strong>have</strong> <strong>fun</strong>. I wanted to build a show that <strong>changed people’s lives.</strong><br><br><br><br><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/232921/d963404d9d1a63936c5345e3206697f407e0e12d/large/unnamed-3.jpg?1482887358" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"> </p>
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<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/232921/4fc22637ae5a74c62f9d680770622413d97299ee/original/unnamed-4.jpg?1482887356" class="size_l justify_center border_" /><br>After years of feeling like the underdog, I arrived at NAMM to strut the floor in my bright turquoise dress and favorite boots, beaming with pride. <br> <br>A few minutes later, my drummer sent me a photo from the Fender showcase room floor. Sitting right there, next to my D-55 and Richie-fucking-Havens (the man who became a legend after slaughtering an impromptu set at Woodstock because Sweetwater got stuck in traffic), was a poster of ME.<br><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/232921/e6e987890315c40d3cb50d62ab3910cf93f77909/medium/unnamed-5.jpg?1482887354" class="size_m justify_center border_" /><br> <br>I was humbled. Even though I still feel like I’m in the early stages of my career, the impostor feelings had totally melted away. Instead, I thought; <em>wow. I’m doing it. The possibilities are endless. Not only does Fender believe in me - but<strong> I</strong> believe in me. </em> <br> <br>If there’s anything this experience has taught me, it’s that <strong>it takes courage to believe in yourself.</strong> <br> <br>A few minutes later, I grabbed a copy of the new Guild Catalogue to take a look through all of the guitars they’d be producing for 2014. I knew it would include one of the shots I did at the Rebrand Photo Shoot, but I had NO fucking idea that it would be… <br><br><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/232921/2bd8a1f13feabc74a4c3ad0df61bd5a1d395002c/original/unnamed-7.png?1482887350" class="size_l justify_center border_" /><br> <br>Check this out: Guild called me THREE DAYS before I had the Rebrand PhotoShoot to see if I had any new shots. Later they told me it was only because I had amazing, professional new photos that they used me in the front fold. <br> <br>The moment I flipped open that catalogue, I knew <strong>none</strong> of this was a coincidence. The photo shoot, NAMM, my entire journey: I was exactly where I was meant to be. Even as a budding artist, every tiny step and misstep was a part of my path. I belonged.<strong> I’ve<em> always</em> belonged.</strong> <br> <br>I’m still learning. The trajectory is insane. But I’ve stepped into a new phase of my career as an artist. I’ve done the grunt work. <br> <br>No more sneaking through the back door. No more walking around, asking what I can GET. <br> <br><strong>Now it’s about what I can give you.</strong> <br> <br><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/232921/af61f0e6d1bb50a6a7dc8f355213be3803ecdc68/original/unnamed-6.jpg?1482887344" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>Aly Tadrostag:alytadros.com,2005:Post/46188722013-12-27T16:10:00-05:002017-03-06T17:10:45-05:00My Human Moments<p>I’m not a rock star. <br> <br>Rock stars walk with <em>swagger</em>. I knock my teeth on the mic, without fail, at EVERY show. Rock stars jet set around the globe. I babysit 7-year-olds and swipe their chocolate chip cookies when they’re not looking. <br> <br>I’ll never forget the first time I admitted to the Fender Artist Relations rep that I babysat. He had a picture of Sting sitting on his desk. I was TERRIFIED. <br> <br>Pretending you’re something you’re not is exhausting. <br> <br>For a long time, I only posted the best reviews and sent newsletters when I had exciting updates. I did it all in the third person. That’s what Aly thought she was supposed to do. <br> <br>It sucked. Cause it’s boring. <br> <br>Then one day I sat down to build yet another e-mail list template and I decided: fuck it, I’m done. <br> <br>Instead I wrote a letter about how I sometimes get home from tours and do nothing but eat Ben N’ Jerry’s and watch Grey’s Anatomy for a week. <br> <br>Admitting that felt GOOD. <br> <br>I didn’t want to be a rock star because I thought they were cool. I wanted to be a rock star because I thought they were happy. You know what makes me happy? Being myself: a living, breathing human being. <br> </p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/232921/91cd3619dc786e92a04c339b0e39408b1d41ff0c/medium/tumblr-inline-myhke1ruvl1rmqwo7.png?1488838185" class="size_m justify_center border_" /><br>Hello, my name is Aly, and I am an expert in the art of making an ass of myself. </p>
<p> <br><strong>HUMAN MOMENT #1 - Caught in the Act. </strong><br> <br>One fine day, I forgot to wear deodorant to work. <br> <br>I was sitting on the M train when I realized I’d rushed out the door without swiping on deodorant. Well, maybe. I couldn’t quite remember. So like any normal person does standing in full view of a dozen strangers, I sniffed my pit. <br> <br>That’s when I spotted HIM. The elusive “Hot Guy On The Train.” The one who is always way too cool to make eye contact. Except for this. one. time. This time, he looked me straight in eye - AT THE EXACT SAME MOMENT I sniffed my armpit. Caught like a deer in damn headlights. <br> <br>I turned beet-red, and then I laughed my ass off. <br><br> <br><strong>HUMAN MOMENT #2 - #baconawareness </strong><br> <br><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/232921/8f20d7af1e828c1b3f7c6a0326fdb4159c844778/medium/tumblr-inline-myhkeurqrj1rmqwo7.png?1488838183" class="size_m justify_left border_" />I switched to the Paleo diet back in January. I’ve become a little obsessed with it since, but I know that’s annoying. ANYONE ON A DIET HIGH-HORSE IS ANNOYING. You know what isn’t, though? Bacon. Everyone loves bacon. <br> <br>I was a vegetarian for four years, and then one day a friend in Seattle showed me how to cook with bacon grease and my life was forever changed. <br> <br>The second or third time I posted about bacon, the thought actually crossed my mind that I shouldn’t because I might piss off my vegetarian/vegan friends. <br> <br>I kept posting anyways, because I loved it and it made people laugh. Bacon photos, poems, love stories.Then the weirdest thing started happening. Other people started sending me photos of bacon. Posting their own bacon stories on my wall. MY OWN MOTHER called the day before I went home to visit to assure me that the fridge was stocked with bacon. <br> <br>The other day I bumped into a songwriter-friend from London whom I have massive respect for. He was like, “Hey! I’ve been following you on Facebook.” (and I was like,YES!)….”you’re the one who’s obsessed with bacon!” <br> <br>My ego was like, “WTF!”. Then I thought, well, shit, I’m being associated with something that’s indulgent, delicious, and a little bit naughty. I can live with that. <br> <br><br><strong>HUMAN MOMENT #3: #beunstoppable </strong><br> <br>When I was a kid I used to listen to Britney Spears on repeat and dance around my room, daydreaming that some big company would dress me up and make me into a star. <br> <br>Later, when I became a musician, I always dreamed that somebody would do the marketing for me. Like some big fancy label would sweep in, deconstruct the elements of my music and put together the perfect packaging for my website. <br> <br>That’s not how it works. When you’re an independent artist, you either shelve out thousands of dollars for someone to do a half-assed job, or you do it yourself. <br> <br>Six months ago, I started the process of rebranding: new website, new bio, new social media presence. It is, in essence, a new way of representing myself as an artist. <br> <br>Somewhere deep down the whole thing embarrasses me. It feels so egocentric. Like,Hey! Look at me! Look at my website! Give me attention! <br> <br>My coach, Jo-Na, calls it “the itchy sweater.” It makes me deeply uncomfortable. <br> <br>I felt like a fraud. Like REAL artists don’t spend days figuring out the right “brand words” and color schemes. REAL artists don’t care. <br> <br>You know what? Real artists don’t define what makes a real artist. They accept that they’re uncomfortable, and then just fucking do it. They’re the Madonnas, the Beyonces, the Lady Gagas. They get their art into world because they have to. They don’t stop. <br> <img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/232921/1844f09e0f316f15491e40da675b17b8c9fcb071/medium/tumblr-inline-myhkh0nxjc1rmqwo7.png?1488838182" class="size_m justify_center border_" /><br> <br>That’s me. Unstoppable. <br> </p>Aly Tadrostag:alytadros.com,2005:Post/46188752013-12-13T16:15:00-05:002017-03-06T17:16:04-05:00The unexpected things I'm grateful for<p>It’s cute when someone younger than you freaks out about turning a year older. You think, Oh isn’t that adorable, you think you’re old! Well, I’m ancient. So shut your trap or something totally innocuous like that. </p>
<p><strong>I just turned 27. </strong></p>
<p>So I will resist the urge to do that. Since this is the Holiday Season, I do want to reflect on all that’s happened in the past year. I am the sentimental type and will never pass up an opportunity to get touchy-feely (like in the back of a packed subway car, for example). </p>
<p>In chronological order, here is my Great Big Unexpected Grat List of 2013. </p>
<p><strong>1) I released The Fits. </strong></p>
<p>The Fits saved my life. There’s no other way around it. <br><br><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/232921/9a1d585534cf4cc67b1f2400a9f88275c0908501/medium/photo-79-300x225.jpg?1488838359" class="size_m justify_center border_" /></p>
<p style="text-align: center;">Duane Lundy’s Clustferfuck of Record Production </p>
<p>Going back into the studio completely rebuilt my confidence as a solo artist. For the first time ever I had a clear vision of what I wanted my sound to be. It was my most ambitious project - drawing from string players, arrangers, and musicians from all over the country over the span of a year. I’m self-taught, with no music theory background, so running on my instincts alone was a rush. It was heaven. </p>
<p>The Fits was also my first fan-funded project. My parents (i love you i love you i love you) cut a check for my first album and honestly, it always made me feel like an amateur. Anyone can cut a check without earning their keep. So instead I saved up from money from the road and my fans came through with the rest. If you contributed to the Kickstarter campaign, thank you. You saved my life. </p>
<p><strong>2) I shot my first music video. </strong></p>
<p>I waited YEARS to put out a video because I was afraid of sucking in a very public way. But, just like my first album - I knew I had to finally take a crack at it if I was ever going to get better. My largest investment (time and money) was the “The Sweet on Me” video. We recruited 15 volunteers, including the director and camera crew. Day of, the bus broke down, the green screen kept falling over and we ended up having to change the entire concept. <br> </p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/232921/f4ada795a77d73827a9eb909535ca4ab3429f9e3/medium/photo-78-300x224.jpg?1488838359" class="size_m justify_center border_" />Broken down bus on “Sweet on Me” Set<br><br><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/232921/a4552931ab1e40c91b000afad335670bfe7bfbb8/medium/photo-7-300x224.jpg?1488838359" class="size_m justify_center border_" />Bryan & Johnny On Set <br><br><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/232921/3db3d84c1a1e9990f267c0d7176e8a6734af623f/medium/photo-6-300x224.jpg?1488838358" class="size_m justify_center border_" /><br>Stop with the cute. just stop. </p>
<p>If everything had gone as planned we NEVER would have come up with the idea to use the freakishly adorable girls I babysit (shot out to my brother in law!) Because of the concept we picked up some amazing press. MTV Buzzworthy said it best: ”heads-up to all the chicks out there — this video will probably make your ovaries explode.” </p>
<p><strong>3) I took a MAJOR break from the road.</strong> </p>
<p>After my fourth run of national dates I considered relocating to LA (because why not?). Then my agent suggested a cross-country tour and I nearly threw up into my phone. I’ve played over 700 shows. I’ve slept in treehouses, WalMart parking lots, five star hotels; just about everywhere other than my own bed. Earlier this year, I also slept here: <br><br><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/232921/ccc385fed87c1ac2ee4c6c6858c95244b9590f05/medium/photo-72-224x300.jpg?1488838359" class="size_m justify_center border_" /></p>
<p style="text-align: center;">Five Star Towel </p>
<p>I burnt out. I wasn’t writing. Show attendance was low and I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was doing everything wrong. So instead of hitting the road again, I decided to do something radical. I STOPPED. I signed a lease in a Half-Hasidic, Half-Trinidadian neighborhood close to Prospect Park and decided it was time I go back to the drawing board. It was scary; I’d defined myself by my busy tour schedule. When I finally slowed down, I began the process of re-evaluating what I actually wanted in life. </p>
<p><strong>4) I went Pro</strong>. </p>
<p>Once I decided to take a break from the road, I hired a business coach. I didn’t have the money going in, so I sold my first classical guitar. When I met her I was depressed, struggling with alcohol and an eating disorder that had been my crutch for fifteen years. I was on the brink of quitting music altogether and badly in need of help. </p>
<p>Making that huge investment was my way of telling myself and the universe I very serious about and my career. I acknowledged that my way just wasn’t working. </p>
<p><br><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/232921/7afdb55d74fa6e2e65d94c76b975e06d7d0961ba/medium/img-3504-300x199.jpg?1488838358" class="size_m justify_center border_" /></p>
<p style="text-align: center;">Outtake from the Rebrand shoot with Jen-Painter. </p>
<p>It’s been six months, and her support has absolutely nurtured my transformation. Today, I am excited about the music I’m creating, writing more than ever - and in the best shape of my life: mentally, and physically. </p>
<p><strong>5) I got sober. </strong></p>
<p>Somewhere between the jug of J&D in my backseat and the water bottles filled with tequila in my gig bag, I realized I had a problem. Getting totally sober this year was a very personal and very scary decision - one that I’ll bridge here eventually. For now I’ll say this: I’m proud to say I haven’t had a drink in over six months. Of all the changes I’ve made - this has had the most profound impact on my life. Removing the buffer of alcohol has enabled me to face myself dead on, no filter. And guess what? I’m learning that I actually really dig me. </p>
<p><strong>6) I said “NO.” </strong></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/232921/1d59463ae5125d13514e8af8680c44e1e12be1b5/medium/photo-73-224x300.jpg?1488838358" class="size_m justify_center border_" />…and invested in Spandex. </p>
<p>No to open bars, no to networking events, no to music conferences - anything that didn’t excite me. Then I took all that extra time and joined Crossfit, a running team, songwriting workshops, and improv. I spend most Friday nights at home now with my roommate, drinking peppermint tea and songwriting. Am I picking up a million and a half business cards? NO. Am I still meeting incredible people that inspire me to be better evey day? HELL YES. </p>
<p>The point is, I started saying YES to the things that nourish my spirit. </p>
<p><strong>7) I nerded out. </strong></p>
<p>All the money I saved on booze I spent on books. I am a MASSIVE self-improvement and autobiography book nerd, so instead of forcing myself to read on the music business I went all out and only read what felt good. </p>
<p>The one book I keep referencing again and again is <a contents='James Altucher’s "Choose Yourself".' data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="http://www.amazon.com/Choose-Yourself-ebook/dp/B00CO8D3G4/ref=zg_bs_tab_pd_bsnr_3">James Altucher’s "Choose Yourself".</a> </p>
<p>James Altucher is a blogger, hedge fund manager and entrepreneur. He has made millions, lost it all, then made it back just to lose it all over again. </p>
<p>After reading (and re-reading his book) I realized that for any of this to work, I HAVE to take care of myself. Not in a selfish, trampling-over-you-at-the-grocery-store kind of way. For me, self-care means living a healthy lifestyle, maintaining a spiritual practice, being a spaz and surrounding myself with positive, creative people. </p>
<p>James’ Blog is like crack to me. I STRONGLY recommend checking it out <a contents="here" data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="http://www.jamesaltucher.com/">here</a>. </p>
<p><strong>8) I said goodbye to my dad. </strong></p>
<p>A week before The Fits release my mom called to tell me my dad was dying. I had a three week tour slated for the West Coast, my biggest show in NYC and how I managed not to crumble into a million pieces is beyond me (see: water bottles of tequila). The months that followed were a roller coaster ride of close-calls, near misses and last minute trips home. When he passed in August, I was relieved. He’d been in a lot of pain, and it was time. I’d had a chance to come to peace with our relationship, his passing, and said my goodbyes. </p>
<p>My biggest anthem this year has been “When you resist reality, you cause suffering.” Accepting and learning find love in the hand I’ve been dealt has been the key to my serenity. </p>
<p><strong>9) I lost friends, and gained new ones. </strong></p>
<p>Three of my closest girlfriends totally cut me off the week before my dad died. Losing them and my dad in one-fell swoop was the massive punch-in-the-gut reminder that NO RELATIONSHIP is permanent. Think about it. Every single relationship in your life will end some day. Either you will part ways or one of you will die. Morbid, but it brought me a lot of peace. I started to look at loss as a natural and beautiful part of the circle of life. </p>
<p>I had other friends, old and new, who came out of the woodwork to hold me up. I was so RAW from shock, I couldn’t censor. I just CRIED LIKE A CRAZY PERSON. And they loved me through it. I love them for it. </p>
<p><strong>10) I started to give a fuck (literally). </strong></p>
<p>I love swearing as much as the next sailor, but as a gal raised in the south it makes me extremely nervous to do things that might be considered “unlady like.” On stage I went as far as using ‘clean’ words in place of swear words: ”skit” for “shit,” “God Darn” for “God Damn,” all to avoid pissing off the language police. </p>
<p>Then I thought, What the hell?! I do this so I get to BE me, under a magnifying glass, times a million. So I stopped censoring my emails and tweets. Then I said shit on stage….AND there were children present (GASP!). Guess what? I didn’t get arrested. </p>
<p>— </p>
<p>This year has taught me that the shit-tacular is my biggest teacher. It’s taught me to LOOK for the stuff that scares me, and then chase it down like a wild banshee in the night. That’s why I’m sharing this with you. I know just HOW GOOD it feels to face down your demons and come out on the other side.</p>Aly Tadrostag:alytadros.com,2005:Post/46188852013-11-25T16:20:00-05:002017-03-06T17:18:29-05:00Filling the Well<p style="text-align: center;"><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/232921/43328904d8cd01d65164826390a2b4090c016b0d/medium/tumblr-inline-mwooylzqgv1rmqwo7.jpg?1488838672" class="size_m justify_center border_" /><br>Outtake from the last week shoot w/ Jen Painter. </p>
<p>I want to tell you a story about ownership. </p>
<p>I went to see Mary Lambert play at Subculture last Saturday, and it shook me. This girl has some balls. She described herself on stage as “Queer, Bipolar, a Survivor and a Poet”. I’m a pretty open person, but I was a bit taken aback. THEN she told us she just signed with Capitol Records (major label + spoken word = whaaat?). My instinct was to compare myself, as I often do with other artists. Don’t compare, identify. Embrace, my gut told me. </p>
<p>Then her voice kicked in. Everything else faded. She played so beautifully, it brought me back into the moment of life and made me appreciate every broken heart, every lover, and made me want to feel every experience fully. And I got it. </p>
<p>She owned it. She owned all of her imperfections and it made me love mine. Suddenly it seemed INSANE to me that I would second-guess my power. Worry about some photo shoot, hate my size 6/8/16 jeans. There’ve been so many sizes and so many hours whittled away punishing myself. </p>
<p>Her art shined through. Never mind that - it was her spirit. It was God. </p>
<p>It’s all a process of pulling back the layers. Peeling back every piece that’s stopping me from revealing myself to the world. When I do that I can help. Other women. To love themselves. Our imperfections. </p>
<p>There are two kinds of energies I experience. Light, and dark. </p>
<p>The dark comes when somebody tells me how to do my job. How to make my art.More upbeat songs, no time changes, don’t play the sad stuff. It makes me want to stuff my voice down into my throat and go on a diet. </p>
<p>The light energy comes from filling the well. From reading a beautiful sentence or getting an email from someone whose been inspired by my music. There was light bursting from all ends of the stage Saturday night. It took me back to high school, to reciting spoken word bravely and proudly in a tiny cafe in Laredo and just fucking OWNING every last word. I don’t ever want to stop being that girl. </p>
<p>Life is so amazing. It is so, so, incredible. Poetic justice thrives. It’s on the horizon. I saw it Saturday night. </p>
<p>I want to be a part of it. </p>
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/232921/1a52ce4f7a474af3a4f4a2128cb749f20839b863/original/tumblr-inline-mwuabpn82i1rmqwo7.jpg?1488838672" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
<p style="text-align: center;">Mary Lambert at SubCulture, November 16, 2013</p>Aly Tadrostag:alytadros.com,2005:Post/46346402013-11-15T17:15:00-05:002017-03-17T18:12:31-04:00Do you believe in coincidences?<p style="text-align: center;"><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/232921/12ac3a2eb5895af25e618105f14671c35bc74824/medium/photo-2-85363701bfd1.jpg?1489788511" class="size_m justify_center border_" /><br>Deliriously happy after our third rehearsal in Texas. </p>
<p>DUDE. The craziest thing happened at CMJ. </p>
<p>I only went to one panel, "The Art of Storytelling." Showed up late and had to stand in the very back, but right off the bat, I noticed this cute songwriter on the panel. She had crazy hair and a bow tie; and was kind of neurotic but in a good way. The producer sitting next to her was spewing off a bunch of depressing numbers on the music industry and I wanted to vomit. Songwriter girl shut her down, and then switched the conversation to self-care. I decided I wanted to be her friend. </p>
<p>Then the panelist sitting next to her figured out she'd gotten a huge cut on Kelly Clarkson's album and started flipping out. </p>
<p>Q&A time came around, and I asked her how I could find co-writing partners without seeming like a creepy stalker. Right away she was like, Just say hello. I'd be friends with anybody in this room. </p>
<p>I called bullshit (in my head. duh). </p>
<p>But get this: I walk up to the table afterwards, and nearly double over. Turns out, I ALREADY FREAKING KNEW HER. Not only do we share the same booking agent, but we've hung out...like, gotten drunk, sung karaoke and eaten pizza at 2am hung out. </p>
<p>WE ARE SO FREAKING BLIND we couldn't tell. Neither of us were wearing our glasses. Just...wow. </p>
<p>Then it hit me! When we first met, she asked me for my record. Not only did she actually listen to it - but she'd emailed me with all kinds of nice things to say. She even asked if she could introduce me to some of her licensing contacts. </p>
<p>I had no idea she was an established songwriter. None. </p>
<p>You know what I call that? I call that shit "God showing off." </p>
<p>Oh, and yes, we totally killed our CMJ showcase. <a contents="Download the set for FREE!&nbsp;" data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="http://set.fm/sets/aly-tadros/rockwood-music-hall-on-oct-18-13" target="_blank">Download the set for FREE! </a></p>
<p>---------------------------------------------- <br><br><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/232921/42dc5228a5b5753e69354a6bde1170336c849682/medium/1377204-651473475057-1505194081-n.jpg?1489788510" class="size_m justify_center border_" /><br>I just got back from a 10-day run of shows in Texas. The ONE weekend I was in Austin to play at MEOWCon (a women's music conference), my cousins were in town looking at colleges. Total coincidence. So duh, why not host a family reunion and then completely surprise me by bringing my entire extended family to the show? </p>
<p>I missed a bunch of the conference because I was busy with other shows, so I kind of expected to have -4 people at my showcase. Instead, I got a full room and 15 family members sitting in the front row screaming their heads off. God showing off, I tell ya. </p>
<p>It was just one of those magical sets. I was all smiles. Mom cried. A random girl I've never met cried. Toby Keith's session players stood in the back watching, arms folded, and afterwards couldn't stop telling my bandmates how much they loved it (which, of course, I completely missed). Then <a contents="this" data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="https://twitter.com/ChrisWillman" target="_blank">this</a> writer from Rolling Stone tweeted that it was the best showcase at the conference. (!!!!) <br><br><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/232921/9415fcfb631fd458e97544a96864e225a770b568/medium/meowtweet.png?1489788509" class="size_m justify_center border_" /><br><br>You're voice has gotten stronger, my brother-in-law even told me.And it's true. I can own that, because I put in the hours. Literally: after my plane landed we did three fucking rehearsals in thirty hours. And they were a blast.Later that week, I arrived in McAllen, TX to headline at Music Under the Stars, where a girl who'd seen me play last year surprised me with this gift: <br><br><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/232921/102a6d007dbb50d0ff02527b340d6f8dd4d105b4/medium/1461137-653728555857-282396365-n.jpg?1489788510" class="size_m justify_center border_" /></p>
<p>And that...well, that just made me smile. </p>
<p>---------------------------------------------- <br>Thank you, Reverbnation! (FREE STUFF!) <br><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/232921/8c37f079de5800698e0611771fc4286545730b1b/medium/featured-artist-screenshot.png?1489788509" class="size_m justify_center border_" /></p>
<p>Last week I was selected for the Artist Spotlight on <a contents="Reverbnation" data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="http://www.reverbnation.com/alytadros" target="_blank">Reverbnation</a>. Reverb is the online music hub to over 3.23 million musicians, venues, and labels. In one week, I picked up more fans than any single piece of press EVER (probably combined), and got bumped up to the top 10 Songwriters in NYC. God bless ya, internet. </p>
<p>So I'd like to extend a BIG ASS THANK YOU to you for being a part of this. <br><br><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/232921/cc51f235003977582ace7521612be504a926cae7/medium/imgres.jpg?1489788508" class="size_m justify_center border_" /></p>
<p>You know that CMJ Showcase? As part of their new pricing model, Set.fm has asked me to give it to you! FOR FREE! <a contents="HERE IT IS!&nbsp;" data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="http://set.fm/sets/aly-tadros/rockwood-music-hall-on-oct-18-13" target="_blank">HERE IT IS! </a>Seriously. Please have. </p>
<p>Sending so much love from my little nook in Brooklyn, <br>Aly</p>Aly Tadrostag:alytadros.com,2005:Post/46346412013-10-21T17:15:00-04:002017-03-17T18:15:13-04:00How to recover from rejection<p><em>Just when you think you’ll never find another festival that’ll love you again… </em></p>
<p>Have you ever been flat-out rejected? </p>
<p>I was on my first cross-country tour with Alyse Black. Months earlier I had royally fucked up a relationship with an amazing guy, and now I was traveling from town to town, gushing to strangers in coffee shops that I was headed to The Big Apple to see the man I loved. We were en route to NYC for CMJ Music Marathon, and I had a grand plan to win him back. </p>
<p>I emailed him, made plans to meet for dinner, and got to scheming. </p>
<p>Those long drives in the days leading up to our arrival were absolute torture. My mind drifted off into the world of our possibilities together amidst the thick reds and browns smeared across the Northeastern landscape. I would tell him I loved him. No! I would play it cool. Yes! We’d be on a little bench in Central Park. No! I wasn’t ready to settle down. Yes! I could totally move to New York City. I started telling all of my friends I was moving to New York City. </p>
<p>The day before I got to town, he emailed and said he didn’t want to see me. I unloaded a grand-ass love letter in a last ditch effort, clicked “send” and nearly threw up. </p>
<p>He was shocked! Flattered! Thought about it. Nope. Still didn’t want to see me. </p>
<p><em>That sucked. </em></p>
<p>I woke up this morning to a missed call from him. Now he’s married with an adorable son, I’ve got a life packed with experience, and our relationship has morphed into this beautiful, funny friendship. We’re closer than I ever imagined we would be again. Both of our egos took some hits along the way, but eventually we recovered. I think we’re better for it. </p>
<p>Rejection never stops feeling like getting picked last on the playground. Three years in a row, I’ve been rejected by CMJ. I’ll tell you what though - that shit pales in comparison. </p>
<p>I worked through that, too. Then I found a way in. Here’s how: </p>
<p>Year 1 (rejected) HOW I GOT IN ANYWAY: Learned guitar parts to Alyse’s songs, and in exchange she let me play a song during her showcase. <br>Year 2 (rejected) HOW I GOT IN ANYWAY: Invited to fill last minute slot by EIPR, my old PR company. <br>Year 3 (rejected) HOW I GOT IN ANYWAY: Asked by Monarch Artists, my agency, to showcase at Rockwood Music Hall. </p>
<p>I applied to CMJ by submitting a standard form which was swallowed up by the internet and spit back out onto some intern’s desk. The Anonymous Intern would then stamp a big fat “NO” on my application, and I’d open up the rejection letter to unleash a shit-storm of rage and resentment: my music sucks, the industry sucks, i’ll never find another festival that will love me again. <br><br><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/232921/3b1b90721adf8f4df8d4cf409537e9552bff7d37/original/tumblr-inline-mv100jerpe1rmqwo7.png?1489788827" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
<p>My brain will do funny things to try and hold me back. </p>
<p>But then I’d dust myself off and go back to answering e-mails and writing songs. It’s all I know how to do. Inevitably, an opportunity would pop up for me to showcase. It always comes as a result of a genuine relationship I’d cultivated over time, not some shiny press package. </p>
<p>Sometimes you get rejected. I’ve gotten a hell of a lot more “No’s” than “Yes’s” out in the ring, but I just keep on asking. When I get turned down, I try to remember every time I didn’t get what I wanted - just to find something even better. If I spent my time moping, I’d miss out on that. </p>
<p>See, I know a thing or two about rejection. I know it is every bit worth going through once you look back and realize just how far you’ve come. </p>
<p>Well, I was a bonafide <a contents="Official CMJ Showcasing Artist" data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="http://alytadros.us2.list-manage1.com/track/click?u=340578aa6de09c819081210f0&id=5c45bd61ca&e=949c9e2499" target="_blank">Official CMJ Showcasing Artist</a> this year (take that, Intern). Here’s a photo from the performance at Rockwood Music Hall!<br><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/232921/5fcd6a85d0c68e2a02ee58dc64c3e214a083546d/original/tumblr-inline-mv108blesb1rmqwo7.jpg?1489788827" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>Aly Tadrostag:alytadros.com,2005:Post/46346442013-08-20T17:20:00-04:002017-03-17T18:17:41-04:00Things My Father Taught Me<p>There’s this funny thing that I do. <br> <br>I’ll be out for a run - and I’ll hit a wall. I’ll get tired, my breath heaving heavily, legs dragging under me, and i’ll want to stop. In that moment, I envision a big, white puffy cloud floating above my head. Perched up in the cloud sit a few folks dear to me who’ve passed on - Grandma and Grandpa Maher, my friends Ana and Zamia. They’re all leaning over, clapping their hands, chanting my name at the top of their lungs. <br> <br>Told you it was funny. <br> <br>Two weeks ago the crowd got a little bit bigger. Lord knows it got louder. <br><br><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/232921/38a4c56486996a032a93e232623e23325bb8a78e/medium/tumblr-inline-mrl6pdyjjb1qz4rgp.jpg?1489788979" class="size_m justify_none border_" /><br><br>When I was a kid I despised that I looked so much like my dad. I inherited his thick, baby-faced smile, the deep half-moons under his eyes and his red cherub cheeks. I used to research facial exercises to try and make my round face slim down, but they didn’t work. <br> <br>At 18, I traveled to Egypt to study Arabic at the American University of Cairo. My first day in the hostel, one of the Egyptian guards stopped me in the courtyard. He looked hard at me for a moment, and then asked <br> <br>"Inta Masriyah?" Are you Egyptian? <br> <br>"Ay-wa! Ana Masrayah wa Amrekiya." Yes, I’m Egyptian-American. <br> <br>He smiled and motioned at my face. It was the first time in my life anyone had ever pinned me as Egyptian. I’ve never been so proud. <br> <br>- <br> <br>I still see him every time I look in the mirror, but my memories of him are slipping away. Sometimes I can’t tell which are real and which are just things my mom told me over dinner once. <br> <br>These are the things I know about my father. He loved Dominican Cigars and Lipton Tea in the morning. He left Egypt just before the Six Day War. He saw my mom after a job interview at Doctor’s Hospital in Laredo and on their first date he told her was going to marry her. He used toothpicks religiously. He was 56 when I was born, and just shy of 82 when he died. He had a full life. <br> <br>When it ended, I was relieved. Relieved that he was out of pain, and grateful that the emotional roller coaster of The Waiting Game was over. Then I froze. <br> <br>Life comes at you. Whether you’re prepared for it or not, it keeps moving. <br> <br>It’s so easy to be angry. My dad was not perfect by any means. He could scream till the house shook, and spent most of his hours in the lab or on the phone with his stock broker. He was old, there were no camping trips. But rummaging through old photos, memories i’d completely blocked out started flooding back. Flying kites at the beach, our Christmas skit in the living room, that ridiculous hat he wore on New Year’s Eve. It wasn’t so bad. <br><br><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/232921/06758339f08d796f0b78f88daa217de0decc76b3/medium/tumblr-inline-mrl4emhoiw1qz4rgp.jpg?1489788980" class="size_m justify_none border_" /><br> <br>I’m learning that extremes are easy; to hold yourself hard in place and point your finger. It’s the middle ground, the one that leaves you shifting in your seat, that softens you. That’s the one that makes it easier for me to look in the mirror and breath through the pain. <br> <br>Ultimately I am grateful for everything he did and everything he didn’t. <br> <br>Whether he knew it or not, these are things my father taught me: <br> <br><strong>- Late nights are the best time to share stories, preferably over a Dominican and Lipton Tea. <br>- Money can’t buy happiness, but it can buy you the freedom to do the things that you love. <br>- Money can also be a chain. Don’t allow it to keep you from people you love. <br>- Haggle at the Dollar Store, but invest every last penny in educating yourself. <br>- Travel until you can’t. <br>- No matter where I go or what I do, he will be there - somewhere - cheering me on. </strong><br><br><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/232921/733d55d12cf5b6fe3cdd7a6240f5f3fa2eb9896d/medium/tumblr-inline-mrl4h3xgqg1qz4rgp.jpg?1489788979" class="size_m justify_none border_" /></p>Aly Tadrostag:alytadros.com,2005:Post/46346462013-08-19T17:20:00-04:002017-03-17T18:19:18-04:00ATTENTION GUITAR TEACHER WHO WAS RUDE TO ME ONCE.<p>The brand new music video for "Whim" premiered today in <a contents="Guitar World" data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="http://www.guitarworld.com/exclusive-video-premiere-aly-tadros-whim" target="_blank">Guitar World</a> today. <br> <br>Yesssssssssssss. <br> <br>Checkout the video <a contents="here" data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="http://www.guitarworld.com/exclusive-video-premiere-aly-tadros-whim" target="_blank">here</a>! And please, help me to complete my revenge fantasy by sharing the good word!</p>Aly Tadrostag:alytadros.com,2005:Post/46346472013-07-16T17:20:00-04:002017-03-17T18:20:11-04:00Tell Them Stories<p>Dads – tell your kids stories. All kinds of stupid stories. Tell them stories till their ears bleed. About your childhood, when you first met the love of your life, your first broken heart. Tell them all the crazy things you did when you were their age, and all the stuff you wish you’d done and hope that they will instead. Tell them the story of the day they were born a million times over. <br> <br>I never got the answers to all the stupid questions, so as soon as I was old enough, I travelled all the way to Cairo, Egypt to try and find them. All the while the answer was sitting down the hall from me – right there on the couch, watching CNN and puffing on a big ol’ Dominican cigar. <br> <br>As an adult I stitched together a patchwork of stories from my father; how he left Egypt just before the Six Day War, how he used to commute to Victoria, Texas as a neuropathology resident, what went through his head the first time he saw my mother. I heard these stories in tiny increments between one and four in the morning – when he and I found each other awake and restless in the middle of the night. I’ve realized that I am much more like my father than I ever imagined and wish I’d written down every story he ever told me. <br> <br>Over the last year, dementia and old age have overtaken my father. He’s a few months shy of 82, and (as he said it) has lived a long, full life. Now all he ever talks about is Egypt. And I think he is done. He’s not a perfect man by any measure, but I do wish I had more of him to measure men with. <br> <br>So Dads – tell your kids stories. All kinds of stupid stories.</p>Aly Tadrostag:alytadros.com,2005:Post/46346482013-07-14T17:20:00-04:002017-03-17T18:21:04-04:00The Throw Away<p>“Throw it away.” – IMPORTANT Songwriting Expert Man (aka Folk Dinosaur) <br> <br>I’ve never felt like I fit in with traditional folk singers. Most stick to a storytelling format. My instinct is to write what I know; autobiographical wordplay, steeped in metaphor and simile. It’s been a huge source of insecurity for a long time. <br> <br>Years ago, I performed my song “Swingset” at a folk conference for a panel of Award-Winning Nashville Songwriters. They didn’t get it. Tore it to shreds – one even told me to throw it away. It didn’t fit their mold of the ideal folk song. And you know what? I’ve probably played it 1,000+ times, and it still makes my heart sing. It’s one of my most requested songs. </p>
<p> <br>So what do you think? Have you ever had an “expert” knock you down for not fitting the mold?</p>3:24Aly Tadrostag:alytadros.com,2005:Post/46346492013-06-05T17:25:00-04:002017-03-17T18:21:45-04:00Easy Does It<p>I don’t really know what I’m doing here. All I know is, a voice inside my head this morning said “share your story” to which I replied, “I want a sandwich.” <br> <br>The Fear popped up. The Fear says: <br> <br><em>You’re a songwriter, if even that – not a writer. <br>Confessional writing is self-absorbed and overdone. <br>You’ll give it up just like everything else. <br>and the worst: </em><br> <br>They will judge you. <br> <br>I wonder if every writer goes through this. The insane battle to shut off the voices that persist every time a new project or idea presents itself. The Fear shows up in full battle gear every time I start a new song. So instead, I manage to fill my schedule or my brain through other means. <br> <br>I quit drinking two weeks ago. Well, actually, I quit drinking two months ago and had a few slips along the way. I am a recovering bulimic. I’ve isolated and used food, pills, and booze more times than I can count to slow me down, speed me up, and fill in the spaces. The Space Fillers always lead me right back to where I started, except weighed down or worse. Ambivalent. <br> <br>So I keep reaching outside myself for answers: the next great self-help book, guru, or 5-Step Solution to Living Your Purpose. <br> <br>I think leaning into The Fear is the solution. Today, I’m afraid of admitting I’ve struggled off and on with an eating disorder for thirteen years. That I’m on a journey to feel the good and the bad without a filter with the hope that there’s light on the other side. That I’ve allowed the thing that I love so much – making music – to become an iron stove. <br> <br>Today I also wrote for an hour. As they say in the program, Easy Does It.</p>Aly Tadrostag:alytadros.com,2005:Post/46346502013-05-14T17:25:00-04:002017-03-17T18:22:19-04:00Just Show Up<p><em>“If you bring forth what is within you, what you bring forth will save you. If you do not bring forth what is within you, what you do not bring forth will destroy you.” – Gospel of Thomas <br> </em><br>I’ve been told time and time again that the best thing to do for myself as a writer is to write everyday. Anything. Just write something. <br> <br>Songwriting can be an excruciating process for me. The second my fingers start to piece together anything resembling an iota of a song, my inner-critic shows up in full force with <br> <br><em>“Sad love song? Yawn.” <br>“Oh boy. Not another waltz.” <br>“Shoulda stayed in college.” <br>“That’s a terrible hook. You’re gonna end up under a bridge.” <br> </em><br>And then I remember I’ve got that email that needs replying to IMMEDIATELY, or a show to promote, or a million other easily justifiable tasks to accomplish for the day. <br> <br>I’ve started setting aside a little bit of time each day to write. Anything. Just writesomething. </p>
<p> <br>Sometimes the best you can do is just show up. </p>Aly Tadros