Waiting for the Harvest in Business

Jeeni Blog

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Waiting for the Harvest in Business

By Kelli Richards, Managing Director, Jeeni USA

As an entrepreneur and/or a self-employed professional, have you ever been in a situation where a game-changing opportunity presented itself to you in business? Something that could “overnight” propel you to a different level of success and financial freedom? Only to find that the brass ring was further away than you thought? And while the opportunity seemed to be realistic and close at hand, it remained elusive for a long period of time; sometimes years at times? I’ve been in such a situation with not one but several ‘big deal’ business opportunities over the past few years. I won’t lie; it has been a trying experience, ranging from being annoying, frustrating and even gut-wrenching — waiting for the dominos to fall and for the scales of justice to be balanced in my favor. Holding my breath and waiting to exhale.

Friends and colleagues have expressed concern and wonder if I’ve lost my mind holding out hope that one or several of these deals will come to fruition. But I know in my heart of hearts that these opportunities are real — and I need to ride the wave and exercise every ounce of patience and trust that I have. Lately, I’ve felt the life force of these opportunities building in strength, and I see light at the end of very long and dark tunnel — it genuinely appears as though the time is growing nearer for them to manifest at last. I look forward to that happening with great zeal and anticipation, knowing my patience will be rewarded and that I’ll experience great relief on the other side.

As I was taking my morning hike the other day in the forest surrounded by trees, I experienced an Ah-Ha! insight that took me aback… I grew up surrounded by fruit orchards. When you plant a fruit tree, you don’t expect it to bear fruit for a few years — but once it starts doing so, it typically delivers wonderful fruit for many years to follow; it’s an investment in patience and trust. Duh! It occurred to me that each of these ‘big deals’ I’ve been waiting on has been like one of these trees — each one has had to come to maturity at its own time, when it was ready, and not a moment before. As they do, my colleagues and I stand to benefit from their rewards for many years to come.

If you’ve been in a similar situation, take heart and keep the faith; I hope this dose of perspective serves you and will give you strength to stay the course. Though many of us are rabbits in practice (and sometimes deals do come together at a faster clip), the tortoise knows that “slow and steady” wins the race. A good reminder for us all!

Kelli Richards Consultant – Super-Connector Trusted Advisor – Celebrity Wrangler

Creating Powerful Connections Across Music, Entertainment and Technology

With a unique talent for connecting thought leaders and disrupters from technology with innovators from entertainment, CEO Kelli Richards guides her clients to create big visions, make big connections and achieve big results.

Prior to establishing The All Access Group, Kelli made waves in senior-level positions at Fortune 100 entertainment and technology companies including EMI Music, Silicon Graphics (SGI)– and Apple Inc., where she launched Apple’s earliest focus on music & entertainment, driving initiatives in that space during her 12 years with the company. Over the course of the last 25 years, Kelli has been fortunate to have had the opportunity to work and collaborate with many people that have been instrumental in defining their respective fields—some have even become iconic. Steve Jobs, Mark Cuban, Sheryl Sandberg, Stewart Copeland, Nancy Duarte, Todd Rundgren, Alan Cohen to name a few, have all been personal mentors, colleagues, or clients.

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19
May

Five Great Songs About Real Places, by Wendy King

A songwriter finds many things to write about; emotions, events, people, and even places. Some of the finest songs of all time have been written with somewhere in mind, a place that touches the soul of the person with the pen.Mull of Kintyre, written by former Beatle Paul McCartney, is an example of this. It’s written about a part of Scotland the singer had a home and is a reference to feeling at home when he’s there. West Coast punk band Rancid, perhaps at the other end of the songwriting scale, had a song called Olympia WA on their album and Out Come The Wolves, written as much about New York as the Washington state capital.Those songs might not immediately trip off the tongue, but they are strong efforts in terms of writing about places. It isn’t always cities either – Gainsville resident Bacon James recently won a songwriting competition for a song about the Santa Fe river, called Lost and Found (At the Santa Fe). It drew emotions he experienced from the river with an actual place, in much the same way as McCartney did, and as many others have done about different places. Often, it isn't the place that is the full subject of the song, but how that place made the writer feel.This is a theme you’ll see running through some of the entries in our round-up of five great songs about places. Christie Road – Green Day (click to play) Green Day might be a global phenomenon now, a rock band that sells out arenas, but in 1994, pre-Dookie, they were just three angry, disaffected kids looking for an outlet. Back then, Bille-Jo Armstrong and bassist Mike Dirnt used to hang out at a place called Christie Road, doing what a band named after marijuana would be expected to do. Christie Road is an ode to their wasted days, their safe place before stardom came calling. Ewan MacColl - Dirty Old Town (click to play) The first song on our list made famous by another artist is Dirty Old Town by Ewan MacColl. It’s written about Salford in England, an industrial town that was once in the shadow of towers belching out smoke thanks to its place on the Manchester Ship Canal. MacColl wrote about his life there and finding love and an oasis of tranquillity, amongst the smoke and dirt. The song was later recorded by The Pogues, to critical acclaim. The White Stripes - Hotel Yorba (click to play) When you think of songs about Detroit and locations in Motor City, you most likely think of Kid Rock or Eminem, but the duo The White Stripes produced an iconic two-minute ode to a hotel along the I-75, the Hotel Yorba. It is now subsidized housing, but Jack wrote the song after hearing, incorrectly, that the Beatles once stayed there. Whilst there’s not a lot of emotion behind the location, it is a demonstration that a song doesn’t have to be written about a famous place at all. Billy Edd Wheeler - Jackson (click to play) Johnny Cash was a great storyteller, and whilst one of his most famous songs is a story about a place, he didn’t write it. Jackson, possibly written about Jackson, Tennessee, was actually penned by Billy Edd Wheeler and performed by the Kingston Trio. Cash made it his own, singing as a duo with June Carter. Jackson serves as a place of sin and iniquity, offering the married protagonist respite from what feels like a loveless marriage, the exact opposite of Johnny’s lifelong union with June. Lynyrd Skynyrd - Sweet Home Alabama (click to play) We’ve mentioned Kid Rock already in this article, and he’s going to get a mention again, but not for songwriting. He helped catapult Sweet Home Alabama, a rock classic, back up the charts in 2007 when he dropped All Summer Long, his tribute to growing up in Michigan, that borrowed the Lynyrd Skynyrd song’s structure. As for the original, it is rather more controversial than even the infamous Robert James Ritchie – it’s written as a retort to Neil Young’s anti-slavery song, Alabama, and seeks to defend the state’s people from being tarnished by the darkness of its history. Now that is a little more contentious than signing about a hotel! Have you written a great song about a place that's significant to you? Then upload it on Jeeni for everyone to enjoy. Who knows, you might just have a solid-gold hit on your hands! Several of Jeeni's most popular artists have done exactly that, including the award-winning Richard Murray. (click to play) This item was written by Wendy King for jeeni.com

03
Sep

Mel's World

Today, Jeeni has returned to Crowdcube to raise more funds for helping new talent. Jeeni founding director Mel Croucher says, “I admit 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. Then we can 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 all 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 one of Mel's latest! This place is neither a home nor a prison. It is some sort of institution. It drips a pallid 1980s atmosphere, and it makes me both afraid and excited. I am completely lost in a badly-lit labyrinth of corridors. It feels like I am being toyed with, and I want to leave. Of course I know the rules by now, and the most important rule of all is that I must keep my social distance of an arms-length and avoid physical contact with any other lost souls who wander these passages. They are creepy. They look more like ghosts than real people. Their eyes are disturbing. Sometimes they stare ahead vacantly, sometimes their staring gazes flick to the left and then to the right in a zombie rhythm. I cannot see their noses or their mouths, because they are covered by coloured masks. My own mouth is not covered at all. My own mouth gapes wide open. I think I feel hungry. I think I am searching for food. Perhaps I will find a piece of fruit, or maybe one of those pills I am encouraged to consume. As I turn a corner, I nearly collide with one of the ghostly figures. But I keep calm. I do not panic. I simply turn away and move as fast as I can. Which is not very fast at all. I can sense another presence around the next corner. The passages are only wide enough for one soul to pass at a time. I feel rather hopeless. I feel quite trapped. I think there is a distinct possibility that very soon I will lose my life. I think I need to build a wall before my time runs out. I know how to build a wall, I have had plenty of practice. The bottom rows of bricks slot into place without much trouble. But the more I seem to succeed, the more difficult my masonic task becomes. The stupid smaller bricks take on a will of their own, and the larger bricks feel clumsy in my hands. My wall is becoming a mess. There are big gaps in the structure where an enemy might get through. There are little gaps in the structure where a virus can penetrate. I think I'd better get out of here. I think I'd better find me a new space, one with some ladders to climb up and ledges to crawl along. Perhaps if I navigate these ladders and ledges, I can find my way out. And will you look up there! High above the ladders, almost out of sight, there is a young woman in a purple frock. She is in obvious distress. She calls out to me. Her flame-red hair cascades around her face, and then blows backwards. Which is bizarre, because there is no wind to speak of. Now she screams out, the same word over and over again. The word is help. Her cry is too theatrical. She has a big nose, like Princess Diana, or Pete Townshend. I am not very interested in her. I am much more interested in the beer. It believe that the beer is stored in big wooden barrels, stacked up in strategic places, and seemingly too heavy to be manhandled. But I am able to pick up any barrel I like, magically, without a problem, because I am unnaturally strong. And I am very, very hairy, from tip to toe. If I was once Pacman, now I am the mighty Kong. It has been many years since the viral invaders arrived from the Far East. The Space Invaders. At first the effects of their invasion were only faintly amusing, but then they grew rather attractive, and strangely exciting, and eventually they became quite addictive, even all-consuming. But as with all invasions, their glamour grew dull and they eventually lost their grip on power and faded into folk-memory. Recently, my domestic patterns have been disrupted, just like everyone else's. I have been procrastinating. I have been clearing out the cupboard under the stairs. Which is how I came across this old crate that has been gathering dust for longer than I can remember. Near the top of the crate there was a sleeping collection of very old videogame cassettes, many of which I had published myself. And beneath those old games there were some vintage machines in their original boxes. Once I'd worked out which of their black power supplies went into which of their grubby little holes, they sprang back into life to display crude blocky graphics on their silly little screens. It's been decades since I played Pacman, or Tetris, or Donkey Kong. And the last time I played Space Invaders, silly haircuts were compulsory and Margaret Thatcher was driving around in a tank. When this shitstorm is over, and when I am able to go free-range again, I wonder how long it will take me to forget about all the ghosts in all the corridors from all those bygone times. As for the flame-haired damsel in distress, I remember her name clearly. Her name was Pauline Daniella Verducci Lady Louise. She was less than an inch tall. She was a drip. The beer was virtual. It still is. Jeeni Creator, Mel Croucher - badly in need of a haircut Click HERE to visit or return to jeeni.com

10
Jun

Mel's bedtime story

Once upon a time, I created a platform called jeeni.com which is where independent artists perform their music in front of new fans, and get rewarded for their efforts. On a Saturday night we ran a live global music festival featuring 18 acts from both sides of the Atlantic. The oldest performer was over 70, the youngest was under 10. They were brilliant, each in their own way. We broadcast over social media and websites. There were no adverts, there were no fakes, there was no hype. It didn't cost us a penny to run. Everyone had a ball. We are part of a revolutionary process that is killing a corrupt and rotting music industry which has held both audience and performer to ransom since the 1890s. So if you will indulge me, I'd like to tell you how, and why ... I'm an old hoarder, I hoard old music recordings, and when I say old I mean really old. Upstairs, in what was once a studio but has turned into an Irish Setter leisure lounge, there are several hundred wax cylinders from the 1890s. Each cylinder is a unique recording from an age before duplication was possible. If Miss Florrie Forde wanted to sell a hundred copies of Hold Your Hand Out You Naughty Boy to her adoring public, then she had to keep lubricated and trill the bloody thing into a brass horn a hundred times and record it onto wax in real time. But to me the beauty of these cylinders is not that each one is a unique recording, but that each one is mercifully short, rotating at 120 revolutions a minute and lasting a meagre two minutes, because that's all a wax cylinder can hold. And so the two minute pop single was born. At the start of the twentieth century discs replaced cylinders, but not a lot changed. I have another room full of shellac discs that spin at 78 revolutions a minute. When it came to pop singles from artists bringing joy to the world throughout the first half of the twentieth century, they had just under three minutes to do it in. And if they were any good, just under three minutes was plenty. I feel personally to blame for what happened next, because in the hour of my birth in 1948, the microgroove vinyl disc hit the market, spinning at what my Irish chums call dirty tree and a turd revolutions per minute. I have an entire wall of vinyl albums, with their glorious covers and sleeve notes. And yes, they are arranged in alphabetical order by artist and date-order of release. Their storage capacity is approximately twenty-five minutes a side, which is usually twenty-two minutes too long. And on the opposite wall is where all my CDs sulk, each one capable of storing seventy-four minutes of audio, and not one of them played since the turn of this century. Why? Because a hacker called SoloH went and ripped the source code of something called the Fraunhofer MP3 encoder and spread it all over the internet for free. Thanks to SoloH, I can not only digitise my entire collection of recorded music without any restrictions on playing time, I can access the entire library of everything that has ever been recorded, for ever. My phone weighs exactly the same as my 78rpm copy of Little Richard's single Tutti Frutti, which runs for two minutes 28 seconds of total perfection. My phone holds 21,417 tracks in MP3 format, some of them complete symphonies, which are pretty good, some of them prog-rock drum solos, as used by Viet Cong torturers to break the spirit of the enemy. My desktop hard drive and cloud-accounts contain too many tracks to keep track of. I declare that my motivation for amassing this ludicrous collection of music was that one day it would bring me comfort in my old age, when my body and brain become enfeebled and I feel the need to keep hold of past pleasures while dying. As it turns out, I started playing my collection early, during lockdown, and wished I was dead by the end of day three. The singles were great, but the albums were mostly insufferable. Which is when I realised that the music album is stone dead, and the nightmare of a lifetime of audio padding is finally over. Then the real truth hit me. The recorded music industry is dead too. Thanks to COVID19 there has been an explosion of new creativity. Everyone is now a record producer, anyone can run a broadcast music channel, and that's exactly what everyone and anyone seems to be doing, including me. The spongers and leeches and shysters have been exposed as completely unnecessary, as have most of the agents, publicists and managers. They are no longer able to milk performers in our new world of social distancing, because they have lost their power. It's the remote audience that now has the power, and this audience wants instant gratification, not a load of overhyped, overwrought, overlong, flimflam. Jeeni.com is my final project in a very long career. I'm giving my artists three minutes per track to nail it, because that's what my old hoard tells me is right. And I hope you agree that in order to shine, three minutes is all that anyone should ever need.

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