Raghu Dixit talks about the day when a record label told him he was not good-looking enough

Last week, a Princeton professor’s resume of rejections went viral with twitterati embracing it as ‘inspiring’ and ‘brilliant’. The idea, he said, was to put life’s failures in perspective so they don’t overwhelm us. TOI asked contemporary folk musician Raghu Dixit to draft his own bio-data of bad times.
8-9 labels turned me down

1999: I quit my job as a research assistant in a pharma company in Belgium, called up record labels in India, and hopped on a flight to Mumbai. I was going by some positive reviews I had got for a radio show done in Belgium. When I met the labels, most of them didn’t even remember giving me an appointment. Those who did, rejected me saying that my music wasn’t saleable. My demo, which featured me playing the guitar and singing along with a violinist, got rejected by eight to nine labels. After a week, I found a job in Bengaluru to make ends meet — as a technical writer for a software company. With my savings I bought a computer and began learning recording.



Tried, and tried again

2000-2005: Every few months I’d record new songs, tweak old ones, and send a revamped demo to record labels only to never hear back again, or get the same old replies. A certain Bengaluru studio showed interest, but it was shortlived. I later quit my job and focused solely on music — live music, jingles, even employee motivational tracks for corporates. It was really frustrating to chase an agency for six to seven months for payment.



No talent, no looks, I was told

2005: My lowest point came in 2005. I was supposed to meet a major record label with a very strong demo. I was made to wait for five hours in the lobby. Eventually, I was told that the guy who was supposed to meet me was on leave. The substitute, a woman, told me she would give me only five minutes. When I handed her my demo, she mocked me: “Neither is your music saleable nor are you the sort of good-looking guy I could place on a poster.” It was like a slap on the face. I broke down outside the studio. I remember bawling like a child on Linking Road, thinking: “This is it. It’s over.” But in about five minutes, I got a call from a friend about a live gig at a Bandra club. I went there thinking it would be my last show. Little did I know that Vishal Dadlani would be sitting in the crowd. I was discovered that day. The rest is history.