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A Blog About Creativity
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Don't Tell Me How to Be Happy
There are a whole lot of people out there telling me what would make me happy. Trouble is, most of them are also trying to sell me something, so it’s with a healthy dose of skepticism that I listen to their advice.
Your Idea Is Not An Accomplishment
I have a habit of writing things down. Lots of things. everything, actually.
Part of the reason is that I’m scatterbrained. I’m bombarded by a constant internal cacophony of ideas and thoughts that have nothing to do with one another—songs, jokes, movies I want to see, blog post topics, etc. They tend to happen at inopportune times, like when I’m having a conversation with a friend or while I’m driving on the freeway. At home I write thoughts in a notebook or on my computer, away from home I write them in my phone. (I hate typing on phones, by the way, and this is only exacerbated by the fact that I am the last person on Earth who hasn’t upgraded to a smart phone.)
Artistic Naiveté
For anyone who’s living a life of creative pursuits, being realistic about our chances of making it to the next level isn’t something that we generally take into account. Like I said in my post about the romance of the ideal a few months ago, most of us tend to live life with our heads in the clouds, and maybe one or two toes scraping the ground for good measure. After talking with a friend about the inevitable umbrella of naiveté that we musicians have to live under, I realized a few things.
There are two kinds of artistic naiveté. One is good, and one is bad.
To be fair, it could be argued that both are bad, but nobody who has devoted their life to pursuing near-impossible goals like musicians and artists is going to lock horns with me on this one. We’ll leave that to the folks who are always wondering when we’ll grow up and get real jobs. Anyway, the good naiveté is that which we use to ignore the odds of turning art into real income. I’ve been playing in bands since I was a teenager, and I’ve been spending the better part of my last five years working on developing my current band. As much as I believe in the music we’re making, as good a band as I think we are, the simple fact is that the law of averages is against us. For every band that makes a living from their music, there are hundreds that never even came close. Maybe even thousands. And being good is no more a guarantee to your success than being lucky. Being smart about your music career is a must, but that’s a topic for another day.
There's Always Someone Better
Everyone has known that one person who seems to be good at everything; specifically, the person that is better than you at everything. It even seems like the things that you’re especially good at are the things they are especially better at. If you don’t know that person now, you probably did when you were a kid, and it probably brought a whole host of emotions out of you.
When I was younger, I used to get angry and jealous of that person.
I loved drawing cartoons as a kid, and I was sort of good at it. Good enough to get noticed for it, anyway. Then I made friends with a kid who was particularly advanced at art. I was OK at copying a drawing from a comic book, but he could conjure up his own images that looked ready to be printed by Marvel. When he was around, I felt like he stole my thunder. I felt like he took away the one thing that made me stand out. Although I certainly admired his natural skill, I was also jealous.
The Romance of the Ideal
Every once in a while, we all get filled with hope for some romantic notion in our lives. It could be about a personal dream, an ideal, or, more literally, an actual romance. It’s inevitable, really, and it seems to be in our genes to romanticize and fantasize—why else would we have entire industries (the film industry for one) built around it? Most of us would claim that we want to be realistic, but there are certain moments when we don’t want to allow ourselves to let go of that romantic notion we’ve created. Usually it’s because we’ve actually seen it happen in some way, shape or form in other people. For every person who has repeatedly said that life events simply don’t happen like they do in the movies, there is someone else who has seen a real “Hollywood moment” that seemed to be plucked straight out of a screenplay.
Hard Knocks and No Regrets
As I was sitting in the Shaimus tour van in the middle of an all-day drive, I was tired both physically and mentally. I felt like a human blob–motionless all day and wondering if I was watching a small part of my young life slip away, a casualty of the road. Touring, I should mention, is often a time of extremes: the highs are incredible, and the lows can be pretty rough. I love being on the road and the tour was going quite well, but having all that time to think sometimes leads to a little nagging sensation that you may be wasting precious minutes.
We Are All Artists
Usually when I talk to people about my pursuit of a career in music, I stress that I’ve never really felt as though I was pursuing a dream so much as fulfilling a basic need. Music is something that’s always been there and, much like eating and sleeping, will always be around just begging for my attention every day. I hesitate to use terms as dramatic as “life force” when describing it, but despite the lameness, it is pretty accurate when describing creative and artistic pursuits in my life. I thrive on creating and otherwise being involved in artistic endeavors, whether it be music, drawing or writing. Even humor is a creative aspect of my personality that is stubbornly embedded into my being. Art isn’t something that I do, it’s something that I am–it happens naturally and necessarily.
Requiem for the Successful Man
That’s a quote from George Steinbrenner that I saw in an obituary on Sports Illustrated’s website today. It seemed to sum up his general attitude toward life, but it also related to the overall tone of the article: over the course of three pages, there were only three fleeting moments where anything remotely warm and fuzzy was said about Steinbrenner. Two of those moments only had to do with his money and were sandwiched between less flattering descriptions.
Sacrificing Entitlement
To follow your dreams and pursue your goals, you’ll probably have to make sacrifices. It’s generally inevitable. Ideally, you’ll recognize when you’re making sacrifices, and you’ll choose to make smart ones. I’d imagine, for example, that sacrificing some free time to work overtime hours to pay off a student loan is probably a reasonable decision one might make, whereas sacrificing spending time with your family so that you can become a Wall Street millionaire may prove unfulfilling in the long run. (Although maybe not. I’m not a millionaire, so I can only speculate.)
The Internet is the Modern Elvis
When I used to read stories of the glory years of rock ‘n’ roll, I couldn’t help but lament the lack of a “scene” there seems to be these days. When Eric Clapton would come tour America, he’d hang out with Hendrix in New York City, where they’d roam around with their guitars strapped to their backs and pop into smokey clubs just to jam with whoever happened to be around. Back in England, the bars he frequented were populated by the likes of Pete Townshend and Mick Jagger well before any of them were household names. When Motley Crue played at the Whiskey A Go Go in the early ’80s, the Sunset Strip was a community party. The whole LA music scene seemed like a big leather pants-wearing, blow-snorting family.
Don't Sweat the Huge Stuff
Life is pretty imperfect, and we should probably carefully adjust our expectations. That might come off as a bit cynical, but it’s not meant to be. Let me explain.
The Death of Deadlines
Birthdays are a lot like New Year’s Eve in that they're often a time when people reflect on the year that’s past, how they’ve grown, what they’ve accomplished, mistakes that they’ve made. Some people fret about another year that’s gone by and how much shorter life seems after every 365 days. Other people don’t think about it too much at all and just use it as an excuse to party. I think I’ve done all three at one point or another.
The Sacredness of Inanity
Social networking. A now-ubiquitous term that conjures images of Facebook, nerds, and wasted work hours. These days, it seems you can’t enjoy a useful website without having to sign in, make a profile which reflects the person you’d like to be in the cyber world, and start spending your time networking, “friending,” and generally sucking up precious minutes connecting with other theoretical people. While I don’t mind having to sign into various sites, the social networking side of things starts to scare me off; as soon as I know I can have buddies, friends, or whatever-the-hell, I think about how much work goes into it, how little energy I actually want to exert on it, and how having a small buddy list makes you look inadequate and renders the whole thing pointless. Can’t I just post some videos online without seeing the dreaded e-mail that says “jdpstudman wants to be your friend?”
Just Say No
I was talking to a friend recently about artists that you just wish would stop releasing albums, if only to preserve their legacy. The conversation started while listening to “You Better You Bet” on the radio; while it’s by no means the worst song in the world, any time I hear it I just wish the Who had stopped recording new music after Keith Moon died. They already had a massive catalog of classic hits, and fans always want to hear their favorite bands go out on top. A large element of this desire is most certainly selfish—I have no place to decide when a band should or should not stop making music, of course (unless maybe I’m in that band). But it’s not that I want the members of the Who to cease all music-making, I just don’t want any more Who albums that don’t feel like Who albums.
Your Indie Cred's Safe With Me
I've never quite understood it when people worry about their personal "indie cred." For some people, listening to a pop band that sounds polished and radio-ready is equivalent to selling their soul to Lucifer. But if you think a song really is catchy and really is fun to listen to, there's no reason to feel guilty about it. You shouldn’t have to apologize for anything. Sure, maybe you’re a devout follower of Bright Eyes, but so what if you hear a Paramore song on the radio and think “hey, that actually kinda rocks?” You’ve done nothing wrong. If someone else thinks you’re somehow less legit as a human being now, I don’t know why you’d want to hang out with them in the first place. Their approval means nothing.
The Life of a Sell-Out
Money is a pain in the ass. Even wealthy people are bothered by it constantly. I chose to pursue music in college, and among the many risks of being a musician is a huge financial one. I happily took on that risk because I never really cared all that much about money, but I did care quite a bit about making music, so it seemed like a no-brainer. But we all have to make ends meet, and the rite of passage to a creative life is to take on jobs that have little or nothing to do with your field of passion. Every day, my heart aches a little more when I’m not able to devote my time 100% to what I love to do. But no matter how little I care about money, I still need (and want) it, and it sure would be nice to have a lot of it. Because maybe money can’t buy happiness, but there is one thing it can buy: Freedom. Sweet, sugary freedom.
Big Ideas (Don't Get Any)
Who decides how much one can push their art’s boundaries? Are artists here to entertain or innovate? Or both? If you’re hoping to push the envelope but just end up in a gray area that doesn’t revolutionize but does entertain, is there a point when you should resign yourself to be satisfied with what you’ve accomplished as an artist?
How to Stop a Recurring Dream
Years ago I started having a recurring dream. Not an exact scenario, but a theme that kept popping up. I would be driving, but when I hit my brakes they didn’t work. It’s not as though the brake lines were cut, but more like they didn’t totally finish the job. I would slam them down but only slow down without coming to a complete stop. It was as if I was driving on ice and I kept drifting even when my wheels weren’t moving, though there was no ice to be found. It was an unpleasant feeling and therefore an unpleasant dream. It happened every couple months or so, which was manageable even if it was annoying.