Jeeni Blog

Helping the next generation of talent to build a global fanbase

Steve Salvari is backing Jeeni

/ By
Steve Salvari is backing Jeeni

Steve Salvari, the London-based music producer, singer, song-writer and musician has played an integral part in shaping the British musical landscape, and his work is cited as vital reference points in the chronology of British Pop, Soul and Jazz Funk. His CV reads like a Who’s Who of musical luminaries, working with artists from a broad spectrum of genres, including Chaka Khan, Robert Palmer, Barry White, Billy Ocean, Lulu, Aswad, Jonathan Butler, Natalie Cole and OmarNow Steve has joined Team Jeeni as our latest ambassador and mentor, and he’s passing on his experience and support to the new generation of Jeeni artists.

Steve says, “Many others have tried and failed to support unsigned artists achieve their dreams, but the difference with Jeeni is the strength of the management team and their experience and connections in the industry. The Jeeni team are straight talkers, very focused, fully transparent with an unstoppable attitude to make Jeeni a huge success.” Welcome aboard!

Steve Salvari

06
Jun

Never too late for Jeeni!

by Mel Croucher I was a young man living in Stockholm. It was the summer of 1969 and I was flat broke. I had the clothes I stood up in, a diploma in architecture and a kazoo. I was too shy to be a busker, so I invented pay-on-demand live-streamed entertainment. I became a human jukebox. I got me an abandoned cardboard box just about big enough to hide inside, and I cut a horizontal slot near the top for my media input/output. Below the slot I punched eight holes to act as the graphic user interface. The reason there were eight holes was because I only knew eight songs, and I scrawled the song title alongside each hole. The idea was for passers-by to provide me with digital input commands by sticking their finger through the hole of their choice, and I would give them a short rendition of the selected song on my kazoo. As a token of their appreciation they would reward me with loose change dropped through a small vertical slot labelled Thank You in English and Swedish. It was very hot squatting inside that box. So here we are, more than half a century later, and the music industry should be in crisis. As a result of the pandemic, artists and musicians have seen their venues close down, festivals cancelled, tours abandoned, and wary audiences slink off to go online. The new normal for live performers should be that they are well and truly buggered. But I am delighted to say the very opposite is true. The new normal has revealed that the traditional models for the entertainment industry were a hoax. All those record labels, agents, managers, ticketers and merchandisers were a bunch of parasites. Half a century later, the new generation doesn't even need a kazoo and cardboard box to squat in for a live performance. They've got smartphones. And they don't need to rely on passers-by to busk at. They've got a global audience, thanks to utilities like Soundcloud, Tidal and Jeeni. Even on Facebook we have the facility for interminable live broadcasts of self-indulgent shite from the box-room. And I'm not just talking about singers and musicians. The same applies to actors, dancers, poets, voiceovers and kazoo virtuosos. There are more independent artists than ever before who have been able to break into the mainstream without any support from a lousy label, a poncy publisher, a suffocating sponsor, mingy manager or arrogant agent. This is an entertainment revolution, where digital distribution, streaming platforms, social media and online marketing tools have changed the way artists perform their work and reach out to fans. By cutting out all the spongers, an independent artist can suddenly enjoy a number of important advantages. To me, the most important is that they now have 100% complete control over the direction of their music, spoken word and creative work. They also have full control over distribution, marketing, artwork, merchandising, deadlines, gigs, ticketing, prices, schedules - in fact all of those affirmative decisions about their creative vision. But it's not just about control. The new normal means that independent artists can keep 100% of all the profits generated from sales, streams, licencing deals, merchandise, and small change dropped through cardboard slots. The reason they can do this is because without the parasites they own all their own stuff. Independent artists own the master rights to their creative work, which means they also have the freedom to negotiate licensing, streaming and publishing deals, and they don’t have to worry about shyster contracts, expensive lawyers, and signing over their rights. Of course the parasites are not going to give up without a fight. Book agents, publishers, distributors and publicists are still clinging on, years after it became obvious that nobody really needs them now that anyone can self-publish in the digital age. In the music and entertainment industry the leeches will still argue that they are vital, even though they already know they are dead. They will keep trying to treat artists like idiots and tell them they don't have the money for mastering, or production or touring or merchandise. Which is a lie, because if artists don't have to pay the leeches then they will save the money. Artists will also be told that they have a limited network of fans and contacts, whereas organisations and labels have access to big fat fanbases and red hot connections with professionals, promoters, booking agents and media. This is an even bigger lie, demonstrated by the fact that even a no-hoper musician like me has a Facebook network big enough to fill The Royal Albert Hall, including the bogs, with or without social distancing. The biggest problem I can foresee in this brave new world of independent entertainment is lack of discipline. Put simply, if creatives were once prepared to rely on a bunch of parasites and leeches, they must now learn to rely on themselves, and that involves actually getting down to some hard work and doing stuff, irrespective of whether or not they have oodles of native talent. Desperation and hunger is an excellent motivator, so I invite the independent artists and performers of the new normal to get hold of their own electronic cardboard box and give it a go. And above all, don't forget to have fun while you're about it. Mel Croucher is the founder of the UK videogames industry, and writer of the most widely-read, longest-running column in computer journalism. He is the founder director of Jeeni and owns a black T-shirt. Click HERE to visit or return to jeeni.com

06
Jun

Huawei to Hell

Today, Jeeni returns to Crowdcube to raise more funds for helping new talent. Jeeni founding director Mel Croucher says, “We’re ahead of our original schedule, but there’s still so much more to do. We need to scale our online platform globally now and build our mass artist showcases to hit all our targets, and give our new artists the recognition they deserve.” If you want to see our pitch click HERE. Mel has been writing the best-loved column in top-selling tech magazines for over 30 years. Now he’s agreed to share his work with our members. He’s a video games pioneer and musician, and to to find out more about Mel check out his Wikipedia page. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mel_Croucher. Here’s Mel’s latest! Trade wars are dangerous. When tariffs are imposed, and when sanctions get slapped on, and when one nation ceases to trade with another nation, then a trade war has a funny habit of turning into a real war. And here we all are, slap bang in the middle of a lulu of a trade war between the world’s two most powerful states. This is a trade war that’s not based on essentials like oil, or wheat, or toilet paper, but a trade war based on the pixies and fairy-dust of software algorithms. One day a peace treaty is waved, next day missiles are launched. Here is what happened in the future. The proxy war between the Donald Trump and Boris Johnson axis against Xi Jinping didn’t affect me much, seeing as I had never owned a Huawei handset. I admit that I did find some comfort in the fact that cellphone zombies became totally bereft at the prospect of not being able to view TikTok on their little Chinese screens. All I could say to those morons was - suck it up guys, you had it coming! In the first few hours of the Huawei denial of service attacks, the bewilderment and confusion of being unable to access social media apps soon turned to anger. This was triggered by the fact that the masses were unable to access social media apps to tell one another that they could not access social media apps. They soon realised they couldn’t remember any contact details of any of their virtual friends, or why they were virtual friends in the first place. Neither could they remember where they were, or where anything else was, or how to find their way around the real world at all. And without the Uber app they found themselves physically marooned within the perimeters of their ignorance. Deliveroo failed to respond the following day, so to avoid starvation, people who had a strong sense of smell managed to find their way to MacDonalds. But the computers were down and riots began when the Cola ran out, as slow-motion customers blamed Covid19 for the fact that China and the USA were having a software spat. That night, the younger, more active elements of society went on the rampage and looted Tescos for pot noodles, which was a total waste of effort because the electric kettles no longer worked, thanks to smart-meter reliance on dodgy apps. Tuesday evening, after martial law and compulsory prayers, the county lines failed to supply recreational drugs to their app-driven client base, and hospitals were targeted to fill the gap in the market. Amusing video clips of the descent into chaos were not shared, not because of any sense of social responsibility but because Instagram was kaput. This added to the howling rage of the mob more than somewhat. Then, not long after the dogs began to disappear, the hunting of the weak began, and there was the smell of woodsmoke and bacon in the air. On a more positive note, a lot of overweight people slimmed down fast and learned new skills like shadow puppetry and crossbow production. And so it was that all those predictions how civilisation would end as the result of electro-magnetic-pulse attacks turned out to be wrong. There was no need to launch missiles, zap communications or fry every electronic circuit in the land. All it took was an old man with an orange face to start a pissing contest. The irony that the old man’s preferred means of communication was Twitter is not lost on me, but then I don’t need Google Maps to tell me that we’re all up shit creek without a paddle. And that, dear reader, is how come we all ended up on the Huawei to Hell.

26
Aug

Bradley Jago - A Brilliant Artist Exploring Queer Identity

  When you first listen to Bradley Jago, right away, you are overpowered by the sheer force of his voice. It takes centre in what feels to be an intimate stage, one that exists outside of space and time, where you and only you become privy to not only the beauty of Jago’s soulful voice, but also the profoundness of his lyrics.  Rain is a song that is full of feeling, full of something rare in music - accountability. Jago tells me that the song is about change, letting the rain wash over you and forgetting the mistakes that you’ve made. He asks if we can hear the rain pour, and we can. Behind the beat, there is the unmistakable pitter patter of gentle rain sounds. But this question conceals another. When talking to Jago about the intention of the song, he told me: “I was… looking back at everyone I dated and I was like “Oh damn, there’s some people that I’ve actually fucked over a little bit.” …  And Rain is an apology to those people, to say I’ve changed now, and even though I have caused you pain, I hope we can move forward after. [It] is a metaphor for the pain I have caused them.”  The song itself has smooth jazzy influences. Jago’s clear voice overlaps itself in a layered harmony with a gentle underscored bass, Jago seemingly having a quiet moment of reflection to himself, as he sings to “let it rain”. The song’s intimacies are intentional. According to Jago “It’s kind of like a quiet moment to yourself. You’re at the gig with me in this intimate venue.”  Then, the drums kick in. There is a desperation to the song emphasised by the changed tempo - the emotion becomes fevered as he sings “let it rain” - the words repeating, creating a heightened emotional effect - it feels as if he is begging, bargaining, hoping. There is no longer just a sweetness and a softness and a sadness. There is a frenzy, a fury to be understood. And that’s what love, remorse, and pain is like.  There’s also important depth to be acknowledged within Jago’s music. Jago himself is a queer artist, who writes from the queer perspective. Why is this important to be acknowledged? Because in a song that is this intimate and honest, you need to understand why it is also brave.  Queer identity comes with an enormous amount of negatives - it’s a terrifying thing to out oneself, and make yourself inherently vulnerable to the disdain of others, and also yourself. Jago is changing the game by bringing this honesty to his music, in a world where queer people still find themselves being judged, discriminated against, the context of one love song can change from being a sweet romantic piece to a dramatic profession of bravery. Jago is interested in analysing both sides of the spectrum of queer experience. “I think I’d want to write about the negatives [of queer identity]. Being queer is celebrated a lot (as it bloody well should be). But also there are negatives that people aren’t talking about.”  It’s important to note that queer art, music and writing should not be made distinct by its queerness. Of course it adds depth and context to the art itself, but it is important to acknowledge the art as full of feeling, and therefore, universality. As Jago himself points out: “If I can relate to a straight song, a straight person can relate to my queer song.”  So what’s in store for Jago for the future? He is doing festivals Victorious, and The People’s Lounge -  “Because the music is so honest, I don’t want to do too much to the music. I want it to be really raw and still sound great - but very authentic and sound like it’s coming from my soul.” He also tells me: “I’m writing a track at the moment called ‘New Gay Sadness’ (there’s a little snippet available on Jago’s instagram) - it’s about the gay yuppies in London who are living their life but cannot find love. There’s a lot of pressure… ‘okay, we’re getting to a place of equality, still a long way to go… it’s like ‘oh you should be happy now’ but you have all these other life pressures of why aren’t you in a relationship. Why haven’t you achieved this yet?’” You can catch Bradley at the Victorious festival on the People's Lounge stage at 5:10pm on the 27th of August. Listen to his amazing track RAIN here Here