the TrueFans AMP— Issue 127

“Music is always a commentary on what’s happening. 

Information is not knowledge. Knowledge is not wisdom. Wisdom is not truth. Truth  is not beauty. Beauty is not love. Love is not music. Music is the best.”
— Frank Zappa

In This Issue... 22 pages (about 33ish minutes to read) You'll Get...  

This issue of the TrueFans AMP™ centers on intelligence, discipline, and ownership — the qualities that separate lasting careers from temporary attention. Inside, we look  at songwriting that honors the craft, a bold attempt to redesign the economics artists  live inside, an honest editorial about professional readiness, and a reminder— through  Frank Zappa— that freedom in music is built, not granted. Read this one slowly. It’s  about thinking clearly and choosing deliberately. 

• Recommends— American Songwriter: So much more... 

• Your BIZ— The Artist Corporation: a Radical Idea That Might Finally Put Artists  First... Maybe.  

• Editorial— For Music Artists the Bottom of the Bottom Line Is... You’d Better Be  Good. Really, REALLY Good by John Fogg 

in partnership with Adam Singer and Hot Takes on Substack 

• the Greatest Music Artists of All Time— Frank Zappa 

• Feature— The Day Frank Zappa OutThought Washington 

• P.S. from PS — Practice Your Independence 

Here’s the playlist

Can you imagine being a Songwriter in America and not subscribing? Nah... 

• Recommends— American Songwriter: So much more... 

Where songwriting still comes first. 

In an industry increasingly obsessed with virality, branding, and “content,” American  Songwriter continues to do something quietly radical: it puts songs and songwriters at the center of the conversation. 

This is not a trend-chasing site. 
It’s not a hype machine. 
And it’s not trying to turn you into an influencer. 

Instead, American Songwriter has spent decades honoring the craft— how songs are written, why they work, where they come from, and what they mean to the people who  write them. 

You’ll find: 
• thoughtful interviews with great songwriters (famous and not-yet) • deep dives into lyric writing, structure, and process 
• behind-the-songs stories that actually teach something 
• coverage that respects tradition and evolution 

What makes it especially valuable for working Music Artists is that the tone is serious  without being academic, accessible without being dumbed down, and reverent without  being nostalgic. 

And a special note: their newsletter is absolutely worth subscribing to. 

It’s one of those rare inbox arrivals that doesn’t feel like marketing. More like a steady drip of songwriting perspective— stories, insights, and reminders of why the work matters in the first place.

If you consider yourself a Songwriter first (or aspire to be one), American Songwriter belongs in your regular reading— and their newsletter belongs in your inbox. 

Some resources teach you how to play the game. 

This one helps you remember why you started writing songs at all. 

Highly recommended. ❤ 

Music used to be owned. Now it’s rented. The system was never designed for how Music Artists actually work. But... something better is coming... 

• Your BIZ— The Artist Corporation: a Radical Idea That Might Finally Put Artists  First... Maybe.  

By now, most Music Artists don’t need another lecture about hustle. You’ve lived it. Project to project. Gig to gig. Release to release. 

Always building value. Rarely capturing it. 

So when Yancey Strickler— co-founder of Kickstarter— stands on the TED stage and  says “Forget hustle culture”, it’s worth paying attention. Especially when what he’s  proposing isn’t motivation… but structure. 

The Problem (Artists Know This One by Heart) 
Strickler starts where reality lives: 

Music used to be owned. 
Now it’s rented. 

Streaming gave listeners abundance— and gave artists fractions. Platforms scale.  Algorithms win. “Ghost artists” fill playlists. Real creators compete not just with each  other, but with systems designed to minimize human compensation. 

Add AI to the mix, and the future gets colder fast. 

This isn’t about a few stars losing private jets. It’s about the reality that:

• Most creative people earn less than $25,000 a year 
• Only a small percentage make a full-time living 
• There is no built-in healthcare, retirement, or wealth path 
• Everyone is alone— structurally and economically 

Artists operate like 18th-century traveling peddlers in a 21st-century global economy. Strickler’s point is simple and uncomfortable: 

The system was never designed for how  
Music Artists actually work. 

Enter the Artist Corporation (A-Corp) 
The Artist Corporation— or A-Corp— is Strickler’s attempt to fix that at the root.
Not with charity. 
Not with pity. 
Not with another platform. 
But with a new legal and economic structure, designed by and for creative people. 

An A-Corp blends the useful parts of: 
• LLCs (simplicity, protection) 
• Corporations (equity, investment) 
• Nonprofits (mission, funding flexibility) 
— without inheriting their worst limitations. 

In plain English, an Artist Corporation would allow artists to: 
• Share ownership among collaborators 
• Pool income and resources automatically 
• Build equity— not just cash flow • Protect creative control and IP 
• Access investment without selling their soul 
• Eventually pool benefits like healthcare 

An A-Corp could represent a solo artist, a band, or a collective— and it treats creative  work as real economic activity, not a hobby with merch. 

Why This Is Different (And Why It Matters) 
Most artists today face a lousy menu of choices: 

LLCs protect you— but don’t help you grow or share ownership well.
C-Corps enable equity— but add complexity and double taxation. 
Nonprofits unlock grants— but restrict flexibility and profit. 

S-Corps help taxes— but limit collaborators. 

None of them match how artists actually create: collaboratively, fluidly, across projects  and time. 

The A-Corp is designed around one radical idea: 

Creative people deserve the same economic tools as everyone else. That alone makes this worth watching. 

A Real-World Proof of Concept 
Strickler didn’t arrive here theoretically. 

He describes forming a small writers’ collective— the Dark Forest Collective—  where: 
• Profits were shared automatically 
• A portion flowed into a shared treasury 
• Success funded future projects 

In a year: 
• 2,000 books sold 
• $70,000+ distributed 
• A second release launched 
• Six figures projected 

The idea worked— despite being legally improvised. 

The A-Corp exists because that success exposed the absence of a structure that fits  creative collaboration. 

The Big Idea (And the Big Risk) 
Strickler imagines a future where: 

• Bands form as A-Corps from day one 
• IP is owned collectively • Revenue splits are automatic and transparent 
• Fans invest in worlds, not just products 
• Artists issue shares instead of surrendering rights 

He even suggests that venture capital for artists may emerge— which is both intriguing  and dangerous. 

To his credit, he says this out loud. 

This isn’t anti-AI. 
It isn’t anti-tech. 
It’s about who owns culture. 

Churches owned it. 
Kings owned it. 
Labels owned it. 
Algorithms own it. 

The Artist Corporation argues it’s time artists finally have their own seat at the table. 

Where This Stands Right Now 
Artist Corporations don’t legally exist yet. 
That’s not a bug— it’s the work. 

The roadmap: 
• Research and design (nearly complete) 
• Coalition building (happening now) 
• First state legislation (target: 2026) 
• Pilot programs (2026–27) |
• National and global expansion 

This is a long game. But it’s a serious one. 

The TrueFans AMP™ Take 
Here’s the honest read for Music Artists: 

This is not a silver bullet. 
This is not a shortcut. 
This is not something you need to wait for. 
But it is a powerful reframing. 

The Artist Corporation asks artists to stop thinking like: 
“I’m just a creator trying to survive.” 
And start thinking like: 

I’m an economic actor building something that can outlast me. 

Even if A-Corps take years to become law, the thinking behind them— pooling,  ownership, shared upside, long-term vision— is immediately usable. 

And that aligns cleanly with the TrueFans AMP™ philosophy: 
Build real careers. 
Own your work. 
Serve fans directly. 
Create systems that support you— not just your output. 

Artists don’t need pity. 
They need power. 

And for the first time in a long time, someone is trying to design a structure that actually delivers it. ❤ 

Here’s a truth about making a living in music that most people dance around, soften, or flat-out avoid— because it’s not comfortable. 

• Feature Editorial— For Music Artists the Bottom of the Bottom Line Is...  You’d Better Be Good. Really, REALLY Good by John Fogg 

There’s a truth about making a living in music that most people dance around, soften, or flat-out avoid, because...  

It’s not comfortable. 
It’s not polite. 
And it’s not popular. 

But if you’re serious about music as a career— not a pastime, not a side hustle, not a  lifelong hobby— then this truth matters more than anything else: 

You have to be really f•cking good. 

Not “pretty good.” 
Not “my friends say I’m good.” 
Not “I’m getting better.” 
Not “I just need better marketing.” 

Really good. 

Yes, there are other factors. 
Luck. Timing. Trends. Persistence. Marketing. Community. Work ethic. All of them matter. 

But they matter after something else is already true. 

Skill comes first. Craft comes first. Musical truth comes first. 
Everything else is a multiplier— not a substitute. 

One of my favorite movie moments of all time comes from Butch Cassidy and the  Sundance Kid. 

Butch (Newman) and Sundance (Redford) are on the run. They think they’ve shaken the  law— until they see the men following them are still there. Tracking them across solid  rock. Doing what’s not supposed to be possible. Pinkertons. 

Sundance, uneasy, asks, 
Who ARE those guys? 

Butch watches for a moment, then says quietly, 
I don’t know… but they’re VERY good. 

That line isn’t about ego. 
It’s about reality. 

Some people are operating at a level where excuses disappear. 
Where conditions don’t matter as much. 
Where competence shows up no matter what. 

That’s the level being a professional Music Artist demands. 

And here’s the part that might sting— but needs to be said with clarity, compassion and  respect: 

If you are not that good as a Music Artist,  
keep music as a love, not a livelihood. 

Play for joy. 

Play for connection. 
Play for friends, family, community, church, coffeehouses, house concerts.
Play because music makes life better— because it does. 

There is nothing small about any that. 

What is damaging is chasing music as a career without the foundation (chops) to support it— emotionally, creatively, or financially. That path breaks hearts, spirits, relationships, and bank accounts. 

Not because the dream was wrong. 
But because the preparation didn’t match the demand. 

Here’s a simple, brutal, useful exercise. 

Pick a genre. Any genre. 
Now list the five— or 10— artists you admire most in that space. 
Really admire. 
Not just successful. Not just famous. 
The ones whose work makes you stop, listen, rewind, and feel something. 
Now ask yourself— honestly: 
Am I operating at that level? 

Not someday. 
Not with better gear. 
Not after the right break. 
Right now— or close enough that the gap is measurable, actionable, and bridgeable. 

This is subjective, yes. 
But it’s not imaginary. 

You know when something moves you. 
You know when something doesn’t. 

And if you’re close— really, truly close— then roll the dice. 
Work your ass off. 
Practice like it matters (because it does.) 
Write relentlessly. 
Perform constantly
Get feedback. 
Tighten the screws. 

Do all the unsexy, repetitive, disciplined things the greats do. 
That’s the Taylor Swift part— not fame, the ferocity of commitment. 

At that point, even a long shot is worth taking. 
Because you’re no longer wishing— you’re contending. 

But if the target is 600 yards away and you’re holding a slingshot?
That’s not courage. 
That’s self-harm disguised as hope. 

And here’s the encouragement— the part most people miss: 
Being honest about where you are doesn’t limit you. 
It frees you. 

It frees you to improve without illusion. 
It frees you to love music without resentment. 
It frees you to choose your path consciously instead of sleepwalking into  disappointment. 

Some Music Artists will read this and feel relief. 

Some will feel challenged. 
A few will feel fired up. 
All of those reactions are healthy. 

Because music doesn’t need more people chasing success at any cost. It needs people who respect the craft enough to tell themselves the truth— and then act  on it. 

If you’re good— get better. 
If you’re close— go all in. 
If you love music but not the work a career takes— keep the love and drop the grind. 

There’s dignity in every one of those choices. 
Just don’t confuse desire with readiness. 
And don’t confuse hope with preparation. 
Be honest. 

Be kind to yourself. 

And if you’re going to do this for real… 
Be VERY good. ❤ 

in partnership with Adam Singer and Hot Takes on Substack

If you make music for a living— or intend to— this Greatest of All Time feature isn’t  nostalgia and it isn’t a history lesson. This is a case study in what happens when an  Music Artist commits fully to intelligence, discipline, ownership, and freedom, and  builds a career that answers to no one but the work itself. 

• The Greatest Music Artists of All Time— Frank Zappa 

I am a musician. I write music. I perform music. I record music. That’s it.
— Frank Zappa

Frank Zappa occupies a singular place in the pantheon of music artists. Not because he was universally loved— he wasn’t. Not because he chased hits— he didn’t. And not  because he fit neatly into any genre— he refused to. Zappa belongs here because he  expanded what it meant to be an Music Artist: creatively, intellectually, and  professionally. 

Frank Zappa was not only one of the most original minds in rock music, but one of  the most original thinkers of our time. 
— David Bowie 

That word— thinker— is the key to understanding everything Zappa did.

Composer First. Everything Else Second. 
Zappa was adamant about one thing: he was a composer. Rock music was simply one of the delivery systems available to him. 

Born in 1940, Zappa grew up absorbing rhythm and blues, doo-wop, modern classical  music, and experimental composition. Those influences never separated themselves into tidy categories. They collided. From the beginning, Zappa treated music as a serious craft— something to be studied, structured, and mastered. 

When The Mothers of Invention released Freak Out! in 1966, it was immediately clear  this wasn’t another band angling for radio acceptance. The album combined satire,  orchestration, social commentary, and sonic experimentation at a time when rock music was still learning how ambitious it could be. 

There was nothing he couldn’t do musically— orchestral writing, rock, jazz— and it  was always unmistakably him. 
— Herbie Hancock 

That consistency didn’t come from repetition. It came from authorship. 

Albums as Architecture, Not Product 
Over the next three decades, Zappa released more than sixty albums during his lifetime, moving freely between jazz-rock fusion, orchestral composition, guitar-driven rock, and  extended conceptual works. 

Albums like Hot Rats, Apostrophe (’), Over-Nite Sensation, and Joe’s Garage weren’t  collections of songs. They were long-form arguments. Zappa thought in movements. He  built internal logic. He trusted listeners to either keep up or opt out. 

Zappa was one of the few people in rock who actually composed— who thought in  movements, not just songs. 
— Brian May 

Zappa never assumed the audience was stupid. He assumed they were capable— or  capable of becoming so. 

Discipline Disguised as Chaos 
Despite the reputation for wildness, Zappa ran his bands with extraordinary discipline.  Rehearsals were demanding. Charts were complex. Precision mattered. Mistakes weren’t tolerated— not out of cruelty, but respect for the work. 

His bands became laboratories disguised as rock groups. Musicians didn’t just play  notes; they learned how to think under pressure. 

He challenged musicians to be better. He challenged audiences to be smarter. And he  didn’t apologize for either. 
— Steve Vai

Some of the most formidable musicians of the era passed through Zappa’s orbit: George  Duke, Terry Bozzio, Jean-Luc Ponty, Adrian Belew, and Vai himself. At 17, Vai sent  Zappa a flawless transcription of one of his most complex guitar solos. Zappa hired him  immediately. 

Zappa taught a generation of musicians that limits in art are usually imaginary. 

Humor With Teeth 
Yes, Frank Zappa was funny— but his humor was never casual. It was pointed, satirical, and often uncomfortable. 

Zappa used absurdity as a diagnostic tool. His targets weren’t individuals so much as  systems: political, religious, corporate, and cultural. If people were offended, that didn’t  concern him. Offense was often proof of contact. 

Frank Zappa was dangerous— to lazy thinking, lazy music, and lazy culture.
— Elvis Costello

Under the jokes was always a serious question: Are you paying attention? 

Ownership Equals Freedom 
Long before “Artist-First” became a marketing phrase, Zappa lived it. 

He fought record labels relentlessly. He built his own companies. He controlled his  masters. He used touring strategically— not as an end in itself, but as a way to fund his  studio work and remain independent. 

He had absolute integrity. Frank did exactly what he believed in, no matter what it  cost him. 
— Bruce Springsteen

Zappa understood something many artists still struggle to accept: creative freedom without ownership is temporary. 

When the Artist Shows Up for the Culture 
In 1985, Zappa testified before the U.S. Senate against the Parents Music Resource  Center’s proposed censorship guidelines. Calm, prepared, and devastatingly logical, he  dismantled their arguments piece by piece. 

That moment— and why it still matters— is examined in a companion article in this  issue. In the context of Zappa’s life, it wasn’t a detour. It was a continuation. 

Frank Zappa was about musical freedom, intellectual freedom, and personal  responsibility. 
— Neil Peart Z

Zappa believed artists didn’t exist to be protected from ideas. He believed artists existed  to confront them. 

Influence Without Imitation 
Zappa didn’t create a genre. He created permission. 

His influence doesn’t show up in clones. It shows up in courage— in artists who refuse  simplification, who value structure and intelligence, and who insist on saying something real. 

He was a complete original. There was no genre he couldn’t dismantle or rebuild.
— Pat Metheny

Frank Zappa was a genius. He saw things clearly when most people didn’t even know what they were looking at. 
— Miles Davis

What Today’s Music Artists Can Learn from Zappa 
The Zappa lessons are simple— and demanding. 

Treat music as a craft, not a lifestyle. 
Respect intelligence— yours and your audience’s. 
Own what you create whenever possible. 
Question authority, including your own assumptions. 
Never confuse popularity with truth. 

Frank Zappa wasn’t trying to save music. 
He was trying to save thinking. 

And for artists intent on building a meaningful, independent, and enduring creative life,  that may be his greatest contribution of all. 

__________  

Zappa on Zappa In His Own Words 
Frank Zappa didn’t explain himself to be liked. He explained himself to be clear. Taken  together, these quotes form a kind of self-portrait— sharp, funny, disciplined, and  uncompromising. 

Use them individually… or let them stand as a chorus. 

On Art, Music, and Creation 
Art is making something out of nothing and selling it. 

A real musician is somebody who can hear what he’s playing before he plays it. Music is always a commentary on what’s happening. 

Information is not knowledge. Knowledge is not wisdom. Wisdom is not truth. Truth is  not beauty. Beauty is not love. Love is not music. Music is the best. 

On Thinking and Intelligence 
The mind is like a parachute. It doesn’t work if it’s not open. 

People who don’t think for themselves are slaves. 

There is more stupidity than hydrogen in the universe, and it has a longer shelf life. Without deviation from the norm, progress is not possible. 

On Freedom, Authority, and Control 
The illusion of freedom will continue as long as it’s profitable to continue the illusion.  When it becomes too expensive to maintain, they will just take down the scenery. Government is the entertainment division of the military-industrial complex. You can’t be a real country unless you have a beer and an airline. It helps if you have  some kind of football team, or some nuclear weapons, but at the very least you need a  beer. 

On Culture and the Industry 
Most rock journalism is people who can’t write interviewing people who can’t talk in  order to make records for people who can’t read. 

Show me a sane man and I’ll cure him for you. 

Frank Zappa didn’t want followers. 
He wanted thinkers. 

And... he got them. And... he's still getting them. 

• Feature— The Day Frank Zappa OutThought Washington 
When the U.S. Senate Met a Free Mind. 

In September 1985, the United States Senate gathered for hearings that were supposed to be simple. Predictable. Safe. 

Rock music lyrics were on trial. 

The Parents Music Resource Center— led by politically powerful figures including  Tipper Gore— arrived armed with lists, video clips, and moral certainty. They had  already decided the verdict. Popular music was dangerous. Lyrics were corrupting  youth. And the government needed to step in. 

They expected compliant musicians. 
They expected defensiveness. 
They expected fear. 
What they didn’t expect…was Frank Zappa. 

The Rock Star Who Refused to Perform 
To most Americans, Zappa was an oddity— an eccentric rock musician with strange  album covers and stranger song titles. Someone easy to dismiss. Someone the Senate  could scold. 

But when Zappa sat before the Senate Commerce Committee, the room changed. He didn’t shout. 
He didn’t posture. 
He didn’t crack jokes. 
He thought. 
Calmly. Precisely. Relentlessly. 

Zappa dismantled the PMRC’s proposal piece by piece, warning that their rating system  was nothing less than a backdoor to censorship. He compared it memorably to “treating  dandruff with decapitation.” 

Senators shuffled papers. 
Questions faltered. 
Prepared speeches collapsed. 

The musician knew constitutional law better than many of the lawmakers questioning him. 

This wasn’t rebellion. 
This was Frank Zappa doing homework. 

This Was No Accident 
What happened in that room wasn’t a surprise to anyone who truly understood Zappa. Born in 1940, Zappa spent over three decades proving that music could be brilliant,  complex, hilarious, uncomfortable, and dangerous— sometimes all at once. During his  lifetime, he released 62 albums, creating a body of work that refused to stay in one genre or obey one rule. 

From the jazz-rock fusion of Hot Rats, to the commercial breakthrough of Apostrophe  ('), to the dystopian satire of Joe's Garage, Zappa demolished the idea that art should be  easy—or obedient. 

But his music was never just sound. 
It was thought. 
It was defiance. 
It was the belief that no authority gets to decide what art is allowed to be. 

The Industry Couldn’t Contain Him 
Radio stations wouldn’t play his music. 
Record executives didn’t know how to sell him. 
Critics called his work too strange, too difficult, too much. 
So Zappa did what free minds do. 
He built his own labels. 
Controlled his masters. 
Ignored trends. 
And somehow— astonishingly— built a devoted audience without needing approval. 

While others chased hits, Zappa chased ideas. While others slowed down, he  accelerated, producing music at a pace that exhausted musicians half his age. 

A Laboratory Disguised as a Band 
Zappa’s live bands became legendary— not for spectacle, but for fearless precision. 

He recruited musicians who were virtuosos and then pushed them beyond comfort: Terry Bozzio 
Jean-Luc Ponty 
George Duke 

Adrian Belew was Steve Vai. 
At 17, Vai sent Zappa a flawless transcription of one of his most complex solos. Zappa  hired him immediately. That mentorship helped launch one of the most influential guitar careers in rock history. 

Zappa taught Vai— and countless others— that limits in art are usually imaginary. 

The Testimony That Outlived the Hearing 
When the PMRC hearings ended, warning labels eventually appeared on albums. 

But Zappa’s testimony became something more enduring. 
Law professors taught it. 
Free-speech advocates cited it. 
Artists shared it like scripture. 

The man dismissed as a novelty rocker had delivered one of the clearest defenses of the  First Amendment ever spoken in a Senate chamber. 

Zappa made one thing painfully clear: 

Free speech doesn’t exist to protect speech we like. 
It exists to protect speech we don’t. 

A Life Built on Distrust of Authority 
Zappa’s defiance didn’t come from ego. 
It came from experience. 

An unjust arrest in his twenties permanently shattered his faith in institutions. From then on, he trusted evidence over authority, thinking over obedience. 

He never claimed to be right about everything. 
He never asked anyone to like his music. 

He asked for only one thing: 
The right to create— without permission. 
And he defended that right for everyone else. 

After the Silence 
When Frank Zappa died in 1993, at just 52, the world lost one of its sharpest minds. But his work didn’t fade. 

Today— more than thirty years later— his music still sounds unclassifiable. Jazz-rock.  Orchestral. Satire. Guitar epics. Political commentary. Experiments that still feel ahead  of their time. 

His Senate testimony still echoes in debates about censorship. 
His compositions still challenge musicians. 
His philosophy still reminds artists that compromise is optional. 

What Frank Zappa Proved 
You don’t need permission to be brilliant. 
You don’t need approval to think freely. 
You don’t need authority to create meaning. 

Frank Zappa challenged the music industry. 
He challenged the government. 
He challenged audiences. 
And in doing so, he changed what was possible. 

Decades after his last note, he remains exactly what he always was: A free mind. 
A genre of one. 

And living proof that the bravest art is made by those who refuse to be told who they’re  supposed to be. 

__________  

This piece was originally published by HistoryBox on Facebook 

____________________ 

P.S. from PS— Practice Your Independence 

Reading this issue alongside Zappa is a good reminder that real careers aren’t built by  playing nice— they’re built by being clear. To thine own self be... . 

Zappa didn’t wait for approval, chase trends, or pretend the business was something it  wasn’t. He understood the system, challenged it when necessary, and most importantly,  kept control of his work and his direction. 

That spirit runs through this issue. Whether we’re talking about platforms, payouts,  ownership, or audience relationships, the Music Artists who last are the ones who take  responsibility for the whole picture— not just the art, not just the numbers, but all the  choices in between. 

The takeaway we offer you is simple: independence isn’t an attitude. It’s a practice. 

As John points out in his editorial, it’s also one of the most important things you’ve got  to be really good at if you want a career that lasts. 

Until we speak again... 

Thanks for reading. Give us your feedback.

And PLEASE, if you've got any Singer Songwriter friends, pass the AMP on, because... It’s Time... for a Change. Big Time. Past Time...