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"My parents always taught me that success is something you define for yourself — not only as a musician, but as a person"
- Sally Taylor
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Offspring of artists make their own music
By Elysa Gardner, USA TODAY - 08/02/2001
When Rufus Wainwright was a little boy, he believed the most commonplace job in the world was that of a rock star. "I thought that everybody was a musician," says Wainwright, now 27. "For me, an exotic choice would have been deciding to become a doctor or a lawyer." Instead, the son of folk-music heroes Loudon Wainwright III and Kate McGarrigle succumbed to his DNA — and his own creative instincts — and became a critically acclaimed singer-songwriter.
The lean, sophisticated songs on his self-titled 1998 debut and current CD Poses have garnered comparisons to such esteemed tunesmiths as Randy Newman and Cole Porter. "There are Polaroids of me at 3 or 4 years old, playing piano," Wainwright muses. "It was a natural progression. My parents influenced and encouraged me, but my mom especially impressed on me that you have to have your own voice. I worked on my own sound from early on."
Wainwright is one of many second-generation artists who are striving to carve out their own musical identities — and so far, he has had an easier time than most. Some may assume that having a parent or close relative in the music business amounts to instant access to a sweet record deal and high visibility, but the truth is more complicated. For every Whitney Houston (Cissy Houston's daughter and Dionne Warwick's niece), there are plenty of other well-connected aspirants who have trouble getting their foot in the proverbial door.
Christiaan and Justin Webb, the 26-year-old twin sons of celebrated songwriter Jimmy Webb, insist that having a dad who penned such timeless hits as By the Time I Get to Phoenix and Wichita Lineman did nothing to endear them to record company executives.
"We made dozens and dozens of demos," says Justin, who writes and records songs with Christiaan as the Webb Brothers. "But until we had something to write about that people were interested in, nobody cared."
Christiaan feels their relation to a venerable artist actually made the siblings more vulnerable to scrutiny. "People hold you to a higher standard," he says. "You hold yourself to a higher standard. But you'll never escape people comparing you."
The Webb Brothers' first major-label CD, Maroon, has garnered impressive reviews both here and in England, where the duo has already developed a sizable cult following. The Webbs have been trying to build up their American audience by opening shows for other artists and are planning their own tour this fall. They're used to the rock-club lifestyle, having worked in Chicago clubs and bars in the late '90s to support themselves — an experience they say informed the wry, angst-ridden Maroon.
Christiaan muses that a major misconception about the offspring of established musicians is that "people automatically assume you're wealthy — which is a fallacy. If you know anything about the music industry, you know that there are ups and downs, good years and bad years. It's been that way for my father, and it's been that way for us."
Sally Taylor, also 26, has no doubt had to contend with the assumption of wealth and privilege to an even greater extent, given that both her parents — James Taylor and Carly Simon — are household names. But when Sally decided to pursue a career in music several years ago and was "bombarded by record companies interested in cashing in on my name," she rejected the offers and opted for a bare-bones, grass-roots approach.
Taylor, whose kid brother, Ben, is also a fledgling singer/songwriter, started her own label, Blue Elbow, selling CDs predominantly via her Web site, www.sallytaylor.com, and promoting the music by touring in a van with her band. "My parents always taught me that success is something you define for yourself — not only as a musician, but as a person," says the young singer.
Of her decision not to sign with a major label, Taylor says, "I wanted to develop my music and myself before I did anything rash. And I wanted to know what went into the business of making music — marketing, promotions, publicity, manufacturing, producing — before I delegated those responsibilities to other people." Her latest release, Shotgun, is a self-described demo featuring an inserted ballot that asks fans to rate the songs. Taylor plans to rerecord the songs that fare best for her next album, adding new production.
"When I was a kid, I asked my mom if she could teach me how to write a song," Taylor recalls. "Much to my dismay, she said, 'If you're meant to write songs, you'll just figure it out.' Now I'm so grateful — because instead of setting out a picture, she gave me a blank palette and said, 'Create what you're going to create. It won't be something I would have painted, but it will be art — and it will be completely unique to you.'"
