Retto's Ruminations
By: Amy Sciarretto
Last updated June 17th , 2010

Now that I am a mom to a new puppy, who is a gentleman, scholar and supermodel, I've been wishing that I could work from home more often. In this day and age, it's more than feasible; it's a reality and it's totally doable, thanks to the Wi Fi connections, the handheld Smart Phones, the virtual desktops. There is no reason that I couldn't forego five days a week at an office. Why not trade two days out and come in for three days? The three days would be good for face time, meetings, etc. All the amenities of an office setting are available at my home office, which is really just a corner in my condo with a desk and my laptop. The only thing that would be missing is interaction, which can always be done at office visits, during meetings.

I used to think I could never ever work from home, because I'd be too distracted by the ability to take a quick walk to the post office to run an errand - even a work one - or the lack of structure, but then I realized I find structure where there is no structure and that would not change if I worked from home. If I even worked from home one day a week, I think I'd appreciate office atmosphere better...never the politics, though. I hate those, regardless. Who doesn't, right?

How does this though relate to music? Oh you know I will go there, because it certainly will. Nowadays, everyone is a journalist, a keyboard ninja, offering up their opinion, uninformed or respected or not, thanks to the same Wi Fi connection, the same laptop, the same keyboard that I use to get my work done. People think interviewing a band for a MySpace blog is journalism. But when said person doesn't know what byline is or they give me an inquisitive look (or email) when I ask them where they sourced their story, as if the phrase "sourcing a story" was delivered in a tongue which they do not understand, I am looked at like I am crazy when I point out that they lack the fundamentals of true journalism. In the instant culture of news and details in the information age, fact checking, sourcing and double checking is a thing of the past, since everyone is in a rush to break the news, to nab the scoop, regardless of rightness or wrongness. Even once credible publications or outlets are guilty of and have fallen victim to letting these fundamentals and ethical issues fall by the wayside in favor of being there first, to get the post up immediately, to get their name attached the breaking story. 

In terms of that dying dinosaur the CD, the digital generation looks at the physical product like I look at an office environment, something they probably do need, regardless of the convenience of being able to work at home, yet they try and rationalize that they don't need and that they can live without. What they aren't recognizing is that there is someone on the other end of that sound they are ingesting and enjoying needs it, and needs you to compensate them for their work and their art and that thing which you are ingesting and enjoying. It's only fair. And we all know that life is not fair. 

I've been whipping up a lot of news stories about bands that are doing value adds to their CDs. You know, buy a ticket to an upcoming show via pre-sale online and get the service charge waived and download code for six live tracks. Buy a ticket now and get a t-shirt, collectibles and no service charge. Buy the CD the day it comes out and get a free DVD. Content is king; the extras provide the buyer with more for his or her hard-earned buck. You lay down that cash and we'll make it worth your while by giving you extra bonus material.

But what about the person who used their skill and talent to make that extra bonus material? What compensation do they get now, working twice as hard and giving twice as much art at the same price? I don't want to hear that they should not be greedy and that choosing art as a livelihood is always a dangerous pursuit; I am sure that tune would change if you were going through some shit with your family or nursing a wounded heart and there was no music or tunes to listen to to make you feel a little comforted, like someone else out there knows how you feel and has been there and as such, you have an unspoken kinship and a bond for having shared an experience and a connection through the vehicle of music.

I could work from home a day a week. Two days, even. I'd probably still end up going to the office, though. Creature of habit maybe? Perhaps. Old guard thinking? A bit. Unwillingness to change? No fucking way. That is how I got here, to this point, to this sentence, in the first place. ~ Amy Sciarretto

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