We were lucky to catch up with Dustin Williams recently and have shared our conversation below.

Alright, Dustin thanks for taking the time to share your stories and insights with us today. Are you able to earn a full-time living from your creative work? If so, can you walk us through your journey and how you made it happen?

The journey to becoming a full-time musician has definitely been a long one, and truth be told, I still feel very far away from my goals sometimes. If I’ve learned anything from this career, it’s that we must constantly shift gears to balance our needs and desires, and that we are always at the mercy of the random chaos of life.

My first experiences as a freelance player started in the studios and venues of Atlanta and Nashville when I was about 17. Most of those first opportunities came from a handful of friends I made during my late high-school years playing gigs and recording with my original bands. Honestly, the network aspect of getting gigs hasn’t changed much, at least for me. Most of my work today still comes from word-of-mouth through friends and colleagues in the Atlanta scene.

When I was 20, I was lucky enough to embark on my first tour which happened to be Vans Warped Tour 2012. Most first-time tours are much more DIY, usually a collection of small club gigs in a dinky old van. We certainly had the latter, but we were playing much bigger shows and had much better food to eat. That said, it was no joke! Fourteen hour days in 100+ degree weather, trying to spread the good word of our band, sell our merch, and convince people to come see our daily 30 minute set. After all that, we’d be lucky to get a luke-warm shower, and then it was time to drive to the next city overnight, sleeping in the van as we took turns at the wheel. And that doesn’t scratch the surface! I have a seemingly endless amount of stories about those two months, but the point is that despite that incredible opportunity, it didn’t lead to becoming full-time right away. There were many more years of grinding and balancing multiple day-jobs before I could finally focus on music full-time. Even then, the big leap-of-faith into this career was not an epic moment of being on a huge stage or a popular record. It was a simple conversation between me and my band mate Parry, concluding with the realization that if we were going to make this thing happen, we had to fully commit to it and hope for the best.

A decade after that first tour and hundreds of gigs and sessions later, here I am still chipping away. I’m not sure if there’s really anything I would change about those years though. It’s easy to look back and wish you did or said something differently, but that’s what got me here. I probably could have worked even harder, and I definitely could have been more vocal about how I felt at times. Regardless, those lessons were vital in shaping me into the person and musician I am today. For better or for worse.

As always, we appreciate you sharing your insights and we’ve got a few more questions for you, but before we get to all of that can you take a minute to introduce yourself and give our readers some of your back background and context?

Like many others, I grew up in a solidly middle-class suburban family in a decent part of town with good schools and a diverse community. I’m a privileged dude, no doubt about that. Both of my parents were musical and always had great taste in bands and artists. My mother worked as a touring singer and stage actor in New York in the 70s, and was involved in the television and radio industry through the 80s. My father played piano in church as a kid and continued to play as a hobbyist during my childhood. My sister also took piano lessons and performed in choir at school. Needless to say, music was highly appreciated in our house, and it didn’t take long for me to show an interest in playing. I spent a lot of time at the family piano plunking out choppy versions of movie themes or other melodies I would hear, but I never really committed time to serious practice. I even tried clarinet in elementary school, but hated it and quit after less than a year. Eventually, around age 13, I started to listen more actively to music, and after hearing bands like Led Zeppelin, The Beatles, Black Sabbath, Iron Maiden, and Sly Stone, I became entranced by the bass. I begged my parents for a bass guitar and when I finally got one, I spent the entire summer between 7th and 8th grade playing every single day for hours on end.

By the time school started back up, I was just decent enough that I could play with some friends. As I’m sure many will attest, everyone always needs a bass player and there’s usually not enough of us. And so, as you do, I spent the next 7 or 8 years playing with as many bands as I could and getting involved with various music programs in school and elsewhere. It was, and still very much is, an obsession. It was a perfect combination of my unquenchable thirst to play, and a heavy demand for bass players in the music community. It hasn’t changed much since then; I still say yes to just about any offer if it makes sense and is rewarding in some way.

These days I spend most of my time working as a freelance bass player, studio rat, and music teacher. Talent or skill in the arts is pretty subjective and I don’t think I’m anything particularly special as a bass player, so I honestly believe that most of my wins have been a result of two key factors: Reliability, and what many musicians refer to as “The Hang.” As far as the former, I just do my best to show up on time, prepared, and ready to work. It’s amazing how often people screw that part up (including me in the early days). There’s no shortage of flakes in this industry.

“The Hang” is where a lot of people stumble. Wether you’re touring or working in dark, cold studios, there will be a metric fuck-ton of down time. Seriously. SO. MUCH. And that’s where the real conversations happen. You get to know people more intimately, figure out what makes them tick. The music industry is filled with a lot of ego, and I think most of that stems from insecurity and fear of failure. It’s damn expensive to pursue your dreams and it’s exhausting on every level. Your art is like your child. It’s a pure expression of your mind and soul and it’s scary to share that with others. Being criticized for that art can feel very personal. My point is, people have many ways of dealing with those feelings and how you choose to handle them can make or break a project. If you want to avoid being “that guy,” you have to be very mindful of the things you say and do. I’m not suggesting that you have to hide who you are. But if, for example, you are a more opinionated or vocal personality, take a moment to think about what you’re saying. Is it objectively helpful or productive? Are you offering solutions? Instead of saying “I don’t like it, do something different,” maybe you could try “That isn’t quite the direction I envisioned. Do you mind if we try *insert alternative idea*?” It’s not perfect, but it keeps the door open.

I try to be easy to work with and I’m pretty adaptable to most situations. I don’t need a fancy hotel, a big tour bus, or 5 star meals. Besides the fact that it’s just not realistic, most people don’t get that on a regular basis. I’m not saying you should settle for scraps and meager pay, but as the saying goes, “You gotta pay your dues.” The mentality of being a bass player is one of team work, dependability, consistency, and restraint. Be a good listener, be prepared, and be the glue that holds everything together. Turns out, these are useful skills in every aspect of life.

My other biggest passion outside of music is cooking. I grew up in the home kitchen and working in restaurants (the latter of which I’m sure many musicians can relate to). With that in mind, I like to think of a band or creative team like a kitchen staff:

The Band Leader is the Head Chef – They call the shots, design the menu (set list/arrangements), and set expectations

The Melodic section (vocals, guitars, horns, etc) are the Sous Chefs – They have to deliver quality food, adding spice and flavor to the core ingredients.

The Rhythm Section (drums, bass, keys, etc) are the Prep Cooks and Dishwashers – They offer consistency and essential support. You may not always realize they are there, but you’ll sure as hell know when they aren’t.

Is there something you think non-creatives will struggle to understand about your journey as a creative? Maybe you can provide some insight – you never know who might benefit from the enlightenment.

I don’t believe in the idea that there are naturally non-creative people. I think being creative is a core aspect of being human. It may be expressed in subtle ways, and for a lot of people it may have even been trained out of them for one reason or another. That said, I think some folks have a hard time understanding the immutable need to express oneself and fight for a passion, even at the risk of financial, mental, and emotional instability. I think we often get too caught up in the future and the “what ifs.” And that’s coming from a guy who believes firmly in Murphy’s Law (always bring a spare bass and extra underwear you silly goose)!!

Jokes aside, I think people are afraid to be vulnerable, misunderstand, or straight-up rejected. And that’s totally valid. One could even argue that it’s rooted in our primal survival instinct. “Don’t be other, or you’ll be kicked out of the village and starve to death!” You know, monkey-brain shit. And again, that’s understandable. Most of us need acceptance and human contact, and that fear of loneliness is palpable. But I’ve seen way too many people give up on something they love or not even try in the first place just because of that fear. It’s heartbreaking. My family was torn apart in my teenage years as a result of that kind of dread, and while the circumstances of that incident were not related to music, the causes were most certainly rooted in that same base fear. That’s a story for another time, but the point is that life is too short and way too unpredictable to spend it asking “What If?” Do I want complete stability and consistency? Absolutely. But everything I hold dear could be gone tomorrow, and I refuse to spend the rest of my life doing something I’m not passionate about.

Is there mission driving your creative journey?

To be completely transparent, my motivation is largely selfish. I just wanna play music with awesome people who are empathetic, intelligent, and positive. I want to make cool sounds on my bass and hear my friends shred the gnar on their instrument! Of course I want to inspire other people to be themselves and to “do the thing,” whatever it may be. That’s one reason I enjoy teaching in addition to performing. There are a lot of kids AND adults out there who need that support and reminder that “it” is possible. We’re lucky if we get 75 years on this planet, don’t waste that time.

That said, I have started to think about what is next for me and how I’m going to spend my 30s. I used my teens and 20s to develop my craft and find out who and what I wanted to be. Now I’m feeling that itch to give back in bigger ways. I’m not sure what that looks like yet. Maybe starting some type of free support group or shared collective to encourage more creative expression and connection. I don’t know, sounds a little cliche when I write it out. If anyone reading this has any ideas, I’m all ears! What does the community need? What do YOU need? At some point I’m sure I’ll figure it out.

Contact Info:

• Website: jammcard.com/dwillibassman
• Instagram: @dwillibassman
• Other: Check out my Musician’s Podcast: Sex, Drugs, and Disappointment (available on all streaming platforms, @sddpodcast on social media)

Image Credits
Title Picture and Blk & Wht Picture: Cody Moungkhoune (@lone_tiger_productions) Red Jacket Picture: Jen Jones (@jenniferklask) Blue Shirt Picture: Nicholas Jude McElroy (@njphotoatl)