Interview: What Did We Learn? San Diego Musician Michael Tiernan

Tammy Holzer
Deep Rock Talks
10 min readMay 24, 2021

--

How the pandemic brought a pivot from live to virtual performances and reprioritizing what’s important

Photo by Sharisse Coulter

What Did We Learn? Is a series of interviews featuring musicians and artists discussing their own journey of transformation over the past year as a result of the music industry shut down due to the Covid-19 pandemic.

This article features Michael Tiernan, a San Diego-based Musician, Singer/Songwriter, Owner of Still Listening Productions, and Founder of True Connection Virtual Concerts. Michael reflects on his pivot from live to virtual shows, the internal shifts that took place, and what his new outlook on life and music looks like now.

Q: How would you describe your experience of the past year (2020) for you, personally and professionally? What sort of journey have you taken through this time?

That’s a good question because it’s like an evolution, right? At first, I felt shock, uncertainty, worry, panic about obviously the loss of income. There were all those emotions but then also this strange calm. I thought — I’m gonna try not to freak out and pay attention to what’s going on with myself and my family and what all this means. For me, it went deeper into my identity. Like not a crisis, but a re-evaluation. Like who am I? Am I supposed to do what I’m doing? What about what I was doing that needs to fall away? What is my purpose? What is the artist's role here? What does music’s role have to do here and engage with what’s going on? I was already undergoing a shift anyway, but the surprising thing about this was the identity question.

Since we shut down in March 2020, how soon would you say you started having the identity “crisis?”

Pretty immediately, after the first interactive (online) concert I did. I think within a month.

That’s pretty quick actually.

Yeah, it was pretty quick. The first thing I did when live shows went away was turn to streaming. Those first engagements were uncomfortable, but I was getting really real. I was looking into my phone and just talking to people how I usually would if I was playing in a club or a bar. It was a realness and a leveling — like hey, I’m gonna tell these stories and tell these thoughts, in a way that was very unpolished, but really real. So a lot of the way I perform at live shows, speaking about my own personal stuff, I started to realize this is why I started doing music — to look in people’s eyes and create something real. So that immediacy of the virtual thing, knowing and trusting people were on the other side and experiencing it with other people, I realized I had gotten off course, and realized that this was what it is supposed to be like. It was like okay, that is my role and my own sense of meaning and why I do music in the first place.

It was hard at first — performing on Facebook and I was just looking at myself and not seeing other people’s faces. But after reading their comments and hearing afterward how much they loved it, it was super cool. I really needed that. So that’s where I decided that I really needed to get back to being an artist and being real — letting it all hang out there. Then when Zoom came in and I could see people and see their reactions, I could get that feedback like at a show.

Image provided by Michael Tiernan

That’s a pretty quick shift. You responded from shock to action pretty quickly.

Yeah, and actually the money piece of it too (was surprising). People had an awareness about musicians, that everything had gone away, so they were really generous. Especially the first couple of months, people were leaving $50, $100 tips every time they come on. Even now, a year later, my audience is smaller now but people have taken it upon themselves that the streaming is valuable, and are sending me $20, $25 bucks a month. I started seeing my supporters in a different way. You could go down a road of my business model could be Patreon or subscriber type services. I didn’t but I could. I’ve gone down a road of doing more corporate-type shows.

Q: Well this already leads into my next question — how did you handle the absence of live shows? How did you decide to shift into corporate?

The shift into corporate came into necessity, where could I find income, who needs this? I started telling a few people I knew who had companies what I was doing, and saw how companies responded. I realized this was viable and I could shift my career from doing weddings to corporate concerts. Not only monetarily, but meaning-wise, I realized I had something valuable to offer. Not only for me but for them, and everyone involved. There is this new relationship being formed with the audience, and a new way to connect.

It’s a different experience being up in peoples’ faces and in their homes.

It is a different experience — it’s more personal. You get to see into people’s homes, and see their animals or kids popping in.

Totally — it’s way more intimate. It’s very disarming — that’s what we’re discovering. It’s different from the boardroom. It’s a new way to bring people together to connect to music. Personally to have that position — what an honor it is to connect people in this way. So I hope that continues.

Photo by Bauman Photographers

Q: What has been the most difficult aspect of the past year for you?

Like everyone else, it’s a juggling act of family, career, commitments, finances, all that stuff. Trying to predict the future — where is this all going? Trying to forecast where to spend your energy. And especially for me going the virtual route — what if it goes away? If I’m putting all my eggs in this virtual basket what if it goes away? What if the other thing (live music) goes away because I’m not putting energy into that? All those fears surrounding longevity and stability, and where to spend your energy. How this is gonna stick around or parlay into different things.

Is it different from how you were pre-pandemic? Were you someone who knew where you were going, or had a sense of certainty? Or did you have some of that pre-pandemic? I mean, as an artist/musician, I would imagine there is an inherent element of that in your life already.

Yeah totally. Pre-pandemic I was looking for a change as an artist anyway, so for me despite the uncertainties and wackiness going away, it has helped me take the risk of switching up my career. It acted as a catalyst. As an identity thing, it was like alright, let’s not talk about this anymore, let’s do this. Let’s be who you think you are. I’ve made more choices that were riskier than I would have in the past.

Q: What is the greatest thing you’ve learned in the past year? Biggest lesson?

Flexibility because of the uncertainty, and just looking at things anew. More believing yourself and knowing you have something to offer and trying to see where those opportunities are.

Being able to see opportunities in places you never saw them before. Being flexible in that way and willing to go try them out. Openness and paired with knowing everyone is going through this, so why not try it.

Q: What are three positive changes that happened?

Well for the first one, I was already feeling this tug to do something more in alignment with who I’d like to believe myself to be, or what I have to offer, so I guess the biggest positive change is that it’s forced me to reconnect and nurture my identity as an artist, and believe in it again. As an artist, I’ve experienced more meaningful things that I wouldn’t have been open to or done if things had been business as usual.

So for example — the pinnacle of being an artist before was like having this rad club experience or playing The Belly Up and it being full. It’s cool because right at the beginning of the pandemic, I had one of my greatest shows at The Belly Up and felt that. So now it’s like, okay that was cool, but is that really what it’s all about? Is that what I’m going for? The biggest positive change is that success can happen on a really small level, and a personal level, and it’s just being who you are and what you have to offer. Just kind of that new belief in myself and music in general.

Michael performing at The Belly Up / Photo by Sharisse Coulter

The second one we already touched on — positive changes like really evaluating your worth. Proving that you don’t always have to be busy and successful and always scheming. Being present with your family or what’s in front of you. Being forced to slow down and throw your hands in the air and say “okay, let’s not freak out here. Let’s ease into this.”

My priorities have shifted a lot. I’ve been at a workaholic pace for several years, so it’s good to be able to breathe and trust that it’s not worth it. So what if I don’t get X and Y done today, so what? It’s going to be there tomorrow. Just taking care of myself and those around me, trying to be an artist, focusing on writing and not producing (work). Before it was all about what you get done. Your worth is based on how much you produce. As an artist, identifying yourself with how many Spotify followers do I have? How good was my last show? This is so impersonal and those metrics are such bullsh*t. In the past seeing my songs and music impact people on a one-on-one level has help dissuade all those other negative things about being an artist….things like ‘I’m not on the radio right now’ or ‘I didn’t get this song on that particular show’ — all these benchmarks that I don’t give a sh*t about now.

The third one is the new trajectory and new opportunities — new things to do with music. Everybody I meet now…I just want to sit and listen to people’s stories. I’ve refocused on what I really need to do in this life that I enjoy, and that’s writing songs. So I’m just listening to people again and seeing the beauty of people’s stories, and when the time is right, writing songs. And how that could be part of a sustainable career.

Photo by Sharisse Coulter

Q: What did you learn about yourself? What was the thing you learned most about yourself through this process?

I think the ability to sit with both those positive beliefs about who I am and what I’m doing, and also sit with the doubts and the not knowing, and just be okay with that. The letting go of control and say f**k it, I want to risk these things now. I want to be more true to what I feel my path is. It’s been a lot of sobering times in the past year. Like hey, I’m really doubtful about this, I’m really scared, but let’s keep movin’ versus before I have to take these steps to get to this point. Now it’s like who freaking knows? Like, let’s just go where we think we should go and it will work out. I don’t have to control every step of the way. So that’s been a good thing I’ve learned about myself I think. Letting go — being uncomfortable not having everything figured out — I’m cool with that.

Q: Looking ahead, what will you take with you (moving forward) from this experience? How will life be different or new for you?

I think it’s just opened up a whole new world for me. As a performer/artist, to really speak directly to people, to be a listener as well. To listen to people. So moving forward with it all, the virtual engagements, just the rawness of less production, one on one interaction, and human engagement. I don’t need to be on a stage with a certain number of people to feel validated as an Artist.

Photo by Tommy Walko

We’ve all experienced it in a new way, all my artist friends who have not just been waiting for things to get back to usual, have discovered their own power to connect with people through music in ways they would have never tried before. Even as things get back to normal, keeping those things we learned about ourselves and connecting with people, and even keep reaching out virtually, and always using that as part of your toolset. So yeah, it’s kinda like a new world.

Check out Michael’s music page at www.TiernanTunes.com and his page for virtual concerts for corporate events at True Connection Virtual Concerts.

#whatdidwelearn #lightwavelive #michaeltiernan #thebellyup #sandiego #virtualconcerts #music #sandiegosingersongwriter #concerts #music

--

--

Tammy Holzer
Deep Rock Talks

GenX writer about music, grief, loss, and the human experience. You can also find me on Substack.