You know the story: a small-town musician with big aspirations sets out for the big city to make it big, where he (or she) has to get two jobs to pay the rent while he plays cafés and open-mic nights. One day he is discovered by a talent scout who gets him a record contract, propelling him to stardom.

This is not that kind of story. Scott Kirby belongs to a new generation of independent artists who prefer to be musicians on their own terms, rather than waiting for the music industry to take notice.

With the rise of the Internet and the fall of technology costs, artists have an unprecedented ability to record and distribute their own work. Independent artists like Kirby are discovering that there is more than one way to make a living as a musician.

Kirby, a Rhinelander native, creates music out of a blend of American genres which he describes as “blue-country-folk-grass.” Add to that the unmistakable alternative rock influence of artists like Dave Matthews, and you can begin to imagine Kirby’s sound.

Kirby’s fourth album Good Morning Jo serenades me through the car stereo as I head for the interview. The lithe opening bars of the title track play like an homage to Dave Matthews. As its themes develop, the song showcases Kirby’s original sound and lyricism.

The second song, "Alabama Nights," utilizes bluegrass harmonies and country guitar and harmonica all set to a southern rock tempo, and then midway through switches to a bluesy, soul breakdown.

When I arrive at his Rhinelander home, Kirby comes out to greet me, his long unruly hair crowned with a red bandana. He shows me around his neat backyard, adorned with several impromptu art installations featuring a reclining garden gnome and a rake with bits of junk fixed to it to make a face.

We go inside, stopping in the kitchen for coffee. In the living room Bob Dylan’s "Hurricane" is on the stereo, adding to the college student atmosphere of the house. The walls are lined with shelves full of LPs, tapes and CDs, every corner filled and surface covered with music.

Cutting his teeth

Kirby first got involved with music to fulfill the junior high music requirement. By the end of junior high he was involved in every music program the school had to offer. With a little help from his teachers, he learned to play the upright bass for jazz band, and eventually the guitar.

He found his niche in the Rhinelander High School music department, and before graduating he was playing paid gigs with local jazz groups like Brass Works.

After graduation, Kirby was unsure what to do. Although he liked the idea of going to college for a music degree, he found it hard to justify the expense. He explains, “I asked myself, ‘Well, are you going to go pay someone else $30,000 over then next four years to learn more? Or are you going to keep getting paid?’ You meet the professors and you get all those connections that way. At the end of the day though, it’s hard to make the money back.

“I had all sorts of options,” he continues, and lists them: music, acting, small town, big city, small school, big school. “Plus I was playing in a two-piece acoustic group with Andrew Dall, and I really believed in what we were doing. Some day, we were going to ‘make it.’”

It turned out he and Dall had different goals. Kirby had the travel bug, and was anxious to do shows further away from home, while Dall was not interested in spending money traveling for unpaid shows. In retrospect Kirby thinks Dall was probably right in not wanting to spend their resources traveling without compensation.

“Also,” Kirby adds sheepishly, “there was also this kind of hard-core incident which was totally my fault and led to Andrew getting kicked out of his cabin. I was very new to drinking and all that sort of thing and, yeah, the details are a whole lot of fun.”

After the dissolution of their group, Kirby focused on his solo work. He enrolled in a year-long technical program in Minnesota to learn to build and fix guitars, all the while writing and performing as much as possible.

Kirby’s approach to building a career in music is simple: “You’ve got to work. You’ve got to play shows. You’ve got to get paid. So you figure out how many shows you can do a week. How much you can get paid for each of those. You cold call, or stop by, or send off a CD with a press kit,” he explains. “I’ve had people come up to me at gigs, and tell me they’d like to book me for a show.”

Earning his chops

Working as an independent musician can be humbling. “It’s a mix of trying to give people what they ask for and putting your own original stuff out there,” says Kirby. “You can be a cover band, and you can make good money at it, but it’s not art. You really are like a jukebox. You’ll be playing to a whole bar full of people who are talking to each other, and nobody notices when you stop playing.

“But,” he adds, “it’s fine, because you’re not performing for applause, you’re getting paid, so you can’t take it too personally.”

Still, Kirby admits, it can get under his skin. “The hardest gig I can think of was a couple of Halloweens ago,” he says. “Halfway through the night I thought, ‘This is supposed to be a Halloween party. People are supposed to be having fun. And for some reason nobody’s really liking any of these songs that I’m playing…This is not going well.’

“Plus everybody was dressed up like zombies and ghouls and my mind was warped about it. Then I got a request for some Garth Brooks, which I kind of remembered from a song we did in junior high show choir. So I struggled through an acoustic version of it.”

He winces. “The one song that hit big was 'Let her Cry' by Hootie and the Blowfish. I still got paid, but they told me, ‘you should play more things people like. You should learn some country, maybe some Janice Joplin.’”

Kirby finally got the opportunity to play the sort of show he had been working towards last February at Nicolet Theater. The two-hour performance featured his original work for an audience of nearly 150. The knowledge that he was capable of putting together a full-length show of his own work buoyed his confidence.

At the same time, he admits, “it makes you realize how good it can be, and then you have to go back to the bars.” He adds quickly, “Not that I don’t enjoy the bars.”

Above all, Kirby wants to work. “You just keep going,” he says, “and then you try to get those gigs that feature the creative aspect of what you do.”

While focusing on working as much as possible, he’s expanding his network in the music world. He hopes to find a manager or booking agent, who will help him plan tours of small theaters and clubs that feature singer/songwriters and original music.

One thing he is not working toward is a one-way ticket to the big city. “I plan on traveling, but not moving. I hate moving,” he said. “For the most part this is a pretty good location. You need a home base. I’ve been told numerous times, that I’ve got to move to a metropolis, but I don’t see the need.”

While he acknowledges the attraction of city culture, he sees more earning potential here. “I can play shows, and I can make a living. It’s not extravagant; I don’t have a Mercedes or designer clothes, but I can make a living just playing music. That’s kind of the point. I don’t want to be stuck in a big city, working three jobs just to pay my rent so I can do one gig a month at some coffee house.”

Laying down tracks

According to Kirby, one of the greatest challenges of being an independent musician is recording. The cost of studio time alone is prohibitive. That plus the costs of a producer, studio musicians, and high-quality duplication make recording very difficult without financial backing.

His debut effort, Soul’s Lament, was recorded on a tape deck in his apartment.

Kirby plays the first track for me. It sounds warm, the guitar chords soft and blurry-edged, the vocals distant and indistinct. It’s a pleasant experience, like listening to music while submerged in a warm bath. Kirby switches it off, explaining that it is hard for him to listen to now.

His second album and first studio recording, Long Way Home, was a huge step forward in production quality, but the project lost momentum and remains unfinished.

With his next studio-recorded album, Apple Love, Kirby attained a finished, professional-sounding product. However, to offset the production costs, Kirby opted to use slim jewel cases and a simple, color printed insert. Eventually, he realized that the packaging did not convey the quality of the product it carried.

Kirby’s most recent release is a highly-polished studio-quality CD in a package to match. Good Morning Jo was also by far his most expensive record, made possible with the support of his family and fellow musicians who donated their studio time.

Good Morning Jo led Kirby to new realizations. He found that the polished sound he has been working toward is not entirely satisfying. He says he’s become less enamored with “glitz and shimmer, adjusting and correcting,” and more a fan of organic-sounding recording.

“There’s some sort of artistic value to the grit,” he says. “The production process can be like airbrushing people in a magazine. You’re taking out real things and replacing them with fake things, because the numbers have to add up.”

Like many independent artists, Kirby is likely to forgo the professional studio in the future. Instead, he hopes to record his songs himself with the help of friends…minus the tape deck.

One thing he’s not going to skimp on is the packaging. “There’s a lot of value to the packaging,” he says earnestly. “Just like there’s value to taking showers and wearing clothes that are clean, or wearing slacks instead of sweatpants.”

David vs. Goliath

Rather than seek great fame and fortune, Kirby plans to make his own way and above all to remain independent. “Is it important to get rich and famous and be in tabloid magazines, and have all the songs that you’re going to play picked for you?” he asks rhetorically. “Is that really appealing? Is that what you really want?

"Because if it is," he says, "then sure, yeah, you might be able to do that. But there are a whole lot of venues out there. In the technological world that we’re in, everything’s connected. All that you really need is a computer and a good marketing scheme.”

In the goals he’s set for himself, Kirby is well on his way to “making it.” He’s making a living as a singer/songwriter – no side jobs, no trust fund.

Historically, the music industry has favored the big labels. Recording studios have been expensive to set up and operate, giving the larger labels leverage to write  contracts with musicians that are favorable to themselves.

This has been an inescapable hurdle for independent musicians. Without a high-quality recording, musicians could never distribute their work, even if they could find a radio station or club willing to play it.

These days, price wars are continuing to drive down the cost of equipment while the quality keeps improving exponentially. Buying quality recording equipment and production software costs less than paying a professional studio, and savvy upstarts like Kirby are chipping away at recording label dominance. And then, with the Internet providing a nearly free, international platform from which to distribute their self-recorded music, independent musicians are looking to bestow the kiss of death upon the recording industry.

According to Kirby, the industry should be scared, very scared. “We’re coming after you, Britney!” he declares. “Britney is the man, and we’re going to put her out of business.”

To hear Scott Kirby’s music, and to find out where he’ll be playing next visit scottkirbymusic.com.