"Classically trained pianist Kimberly Sterling has made her mark as a highly regarded cabaret and pop songstress, entertaining audiences in both concert and nightclub settings throughout North America. Reviewers have noted that 'the lithesome, dark-haired performer exudes elegance and sophistication in her interpretations of songs from contemporary artists as well as the great American songbook.' Recently returned from extensive touring, she appears on a regular basis at a number of venues in the greater metropolitan area."
My manager, Brian Scott, had asked me to read through this brief bio last summer and make some updates in it. So, it's probably a good place to begin this story. You see, looking the blurb over, I realized it had been almost eighteen months since I had performed anywhere outside of a 100-mile radius, and in fact even the gigs nearby were getting fewer. And at 29 years old, that's not where you want to be in your career.
Thumbing through a few recent clippings in my scrapbook, the only additional quote I could come up with was a brief mention in a local weekly that referred to my song stylings as "sexy and alluring," so I sent that to Brian along with the comment that the reviewer was a college student who interviewed me briefly before the show and spent most of the time staring at my tits. Of course that wasn't the first time that's happened. I'm 5' 7" tall, weigh 131 pounds, and have what could be described as an hourglass figure, 36-26-34. That means I've gotten used to being looked at a certain way by some club managers, other musicians, oh, and of course, my audience.
But not Brian. He's been my agent for over five years and he's really helped me grow as a cabaret and concert performer. He's encouraged me to get additional voice lessons and take dance classes to make me more comfortable moving on stage. And through it all, he has been my greatest supporter.
An old-school manager with long-standing ties to the smaller clubs and local concert halls, he's found work for me as a solo performer in cabarets and hotel bars as well as putting me together with combos or larger groups to play mid-sized auditoriums and the occasional concert hall. He even briefly had me on tour opening for a major national act. He knows how to sell my looks and youth to the bookers and club owners while managing most of the time to hide that from me. Of course, as a struggling artist, I want to be appreciated solely for my talent, but I've come to understood that being an attractive woman with a good figure is an asset, not a liability.
A fateful meeting
The request from Brian to update my biography had come in advance of a meeting that he had suggested. It had been almost a year since we'd seen each other in person and he thought it would be a good idea to talk. In a moment of panic, I thought that he was going to drop me as a client, so I asked him straight out if I was in trouble.
"Not at all." He responded. "Just thought we should get together to go over the pictures from your photo shoot last week. Plus there are a few other things I've been meaning to run by you. Does 11:00 on Thursday work for you?"
"A little early for a musician," I wrote back, feeling relieved. "But for you, anything."
When I arrived at his office later in the week, we exchanged a few pleasantries, with Brian asking about the health of my parents while I congratulated him on his daughter's recent graduation from college. But then he quickly directed me to a table in an adjoining room where we could get right down to work. I could see that he had already spread out a number of the pictures from the recent session he had commissioned for me.
I was eager to show that I was open to any ideas he wanted to discuss. So when Brian began by thanking me for spending the time with the photographer despite my initial reluctance, I jumped right in with an apology.
"I just want to say," I offered, "that I know I was a pain about doing the photo shoot, but you were right." Pointing to some of the pictures, I said, "The session was great and I definitely like the results. I understand how important it is to get some new material on my website and Facebook page and I hope these will get a little more attention."
"I think they will, Kim," he responded, seemingly encouraged by my attitude and openness. "I'll also be including those pictures in the standard back-up material we send out with any press release for your appearances. With these new shots, there's a greater chance some of them will end up in a paper or online." He then continued, "These five I think should all be on your website and part of our press kit," he said, pushing the pictures forward.
They, of course, included the ones that I had found particularly embarrassing - I was posing in an elegant and revealing backless gown that was on loan to the photographer, who had persuaded me to try it on. Two of the shots were taken from behind, and the oval opening went all the way down to the small of my back. "You know you can almost see my butt crack in that one," I said, pointing to the first picture Brian had pushed forward.
"Almost, but not quite," said Brian, "and that's exactly what we should be after. Sexy and sophisticated," he continued, sliding the next two in front of me.
For those, I had worn a black dress that was much shorter than anything I wore when performing, and the photographer had posed me on a bench facing the camera with a piano behind me. My legs were stretched out in front of me, with two thirds of my thighs on display. The scoop neckline showed more cleavage than I was usually willing to reveal.
"Both of those, I suppose," I added, realizing I had lost the battle before it had even begun.
Brian nodded, and we both said in unison "sexy and sophisticated," with a bit of a laugh.
"Bottom line," he said, "I've been letting you down, Kim. Your bookings have been slipping, and I should have had this conversation with you a long time ago."
The bluntness of his statement took me a bit by surprise. It's not that I hadn't noticed my declining income over the last year; in fact, I had concluded that I was doing something wrong - either not adjusting my repertoire to match the shifting tastes of the public or somehow slipping in my performance. So I was grateful for the opportunity to share these concerns with him and to signal that I was open to considering anything that could be done to get me more work.
"For starters," he said, launching into what I quickly realized was a well-rehearsed speech, "we need to change your image, your stage persona, if you will. I'd also like to broaden your song choices, but first we should rethink the story you tell about yourself in your performances."
