I’m a 27-year-old single father, aspiring hip-hop artist, Uber driver, social media marketer, and clothing brand rep. If I were born in the 1600’s, you might call me a renaissance man. If the term weren’t abused by 20-somethings peddling shitty carbon copied lifestyle blogs, I’d call myself an entrepreneur. I’m the 21st-century version of a waitress in Hollywood waiting for a break. Or as my cousin called it when asking me to write this piece, I’m a gig economy rapper. I’m pinching pennies while chasing dreams.
I’ve been recording and releasing music for almost 10 years under the name Acoupstix (YouTube it, Facebook it, Instagram it, I’m on Spotify, my mixtape is fire). It started with dorm room-produced mixtapes on file-share websites and has manifested as studio-recorded albums on your streaming platform of choice. I went from freestyling at house parties to opening for artists like Hopsin and Dead Prez. 18-year-old me would be jealous and impressed of where I am now. That’s the kind of perspective that keeps me driven in the modern music industry where a child can play Coachella just for yodeling in a WalMart and rappers become famous for not being able to rap very well.
The aspiring rapper life is a struggle and a hustle. The struggle comes in balancing your time and maintaining your enthusiasm. If I end up spending 30 hours in the studio working on music, I’m not going to have enough time clocked into Uber to pay the rent. If I get too hooked into chasing the cheese in the Chrysler, I won’t have the energy and time to work on my craft. When you factor in the non-negotiable time with the offspring, it’s almost like playing the game with a time handicap.
At least, that would be true if driving for Uber wasn’t also an opportunity to promote my music. The best thing about Uber, not to sound too creepy, is that the passenger has no choice but to sit in your car until they get to where they’re going. That means if I pull up and you’re under the age of 40, I’m going to play my album and you’re going to listen to it. I believe there is a certain objective quality to my music. I’ve had enough experiences in my car with people who don’t like hip hop music enjoying my album that I don’t even get worried about offending someone.
That’s the hustle. It’s not really so much about making money but more about gaining fans and people’s attention. If you can find an avenue that can make you a little money and help you get fans, you’re doubling up your time. When I get to look at my job as also being a tool for my dreams, it makes driving strangers around more worthwhile.
Another layer of the lick is the infinitesimal amount of money I make streaming my own songs for passengers who are paying me to drive them around. I don’t say “infinitesimal” as a way of sneak-dissing platforms like Spotify, Tidal, or Apple Music; the reality is the amount per play really is less than a penny. However, given the fact that iPod spins and SoundCloud plays have yet to get anyone paid, and people won’t take you seriously unless you appear to be on the same level as the bigger names, being on the platform and picking up pennies beats the alternative.
Plus, in the age of apps, there are a variety of avenues that allow independent artists to easily get their music on streaming platforms. When presentation and ease of access is everything, especially in the age of smartphone music, I don’t mind the small payoff. And it’s not nothing: every 2-3 weeks after collecting another hundred or so plays, I can buy some pancakes, eggs, and bacon with my Spotify payment.
All that said, it’s easy to look on lustfully as every “Lil” Rapper gets their moment in the sun and collects a decent check from it. It’s easy to begin questioning whether it’s even worth it when seemingly there isn’t an avenue for your style and there are 10 million people out there with a fire mixtape they want you to listen to.
I can’t spend too long harking on the pitfalls of the modern music scene, though, as I’ve largely benefited from the shift in the paradigm. The front-end cost of producing music in the modern era is a fraction of the cost you would have been looking at back in the “good ol’ days.” Not only that, but I have access to millions of people at the push of a button. Most of the fans I have wouldn’t have been able to discover me if we were all born 10 years earlier.
Ultimately, even if I never make it to all the places I want to go with my music, I can die happy knowing I continued to create music. When my daughter was born, I tried out giving up on my dream for her sake. I learned the hard way that giving up is never worth it. Plus, the only real consequences of living life are the memories you leave behind in other people. I’d rather be remembered for a couple dope bars and persistence than being practical.
So I continue on with 630 am wake-ups to pack my daughter’s lunch, which leads me to my 9 am studio sessions. I continue with 12-hour Uber days, culminating with live performances downtown. I scout for beats while driving around strangers. I write 4 bars between drop off and pick up. I bump my album for those who ask and for those who don’t. And when people ask me what I do, I tell them I make music.
Jordan “Acoupstix” Carreno is a 27-year-old dad and “gig economy rapper” from St. Petersburg, FL.
