thief of joy

As much as I eschew clickbait, I do still see those absurd headlines attempting to conjure clicks and engagement. The one I happened across just before writing this entry was about how Taylor Swift is the cultural heir (for lack of a better term) to what Bruce Springsteen has cultivated over his decades of writing and performing. I don’t really care what that article says, but I know enough to be able to acknowledge that Springsteen can do no wrong in most older music fans’ eyes, and that Taylor Swift is a polarizing character because she’s seen to have not ‘paid her dues’ yet for some bonkers reason. Hence… the clicks.

Chock it up to chauvinism, generational baggage, or whatever you want in order to justify the old guard’s disdain or distrust of Taylor Swift – but the fact is that this is not how all of this works. It’s not a royal bloodline in the monarchical sense – but proposing it might be a royal bloodline does serve to upset people who might not realize the bullshit factor in these types of comparisons.

Comparison. What a bitch.

Comparison is the thief of joy. It’s been said so many times that it’s almost meaningless when we hear it, but the distraction that comes with comparison can derail so much greatness. The amount of alcohol I’ve ingested, the amount of bad food I’ve eaten, and the amount of drugs I’ve done pale in comparison to the distraction I’ve put in my own way through being concerned with what other people are doing, and what successes other people are seeing from their efforts.

“This peformer is ___ years younger than me”
“That video has ___ more views than mine”
“That band has ___ more people at their shows than me”

… all of it distracts from what it truly important in my life – which is: am I engaging in my purpose?

None of that shit matters.

What I’m doing matters.
But… What I’m doing doesn’t matter to you – or at least it shouldn’t – partly; if not completely, because it brings about a sense of fear, and fear doesn’t live in the present moment… it lives in the future.

That brings about another thought which might seem to come from out of left field, but I think it relates. That is the potential role of A.I. in art and music as the future comes hurtling toward us.

It was recently put to me that with the advent of companies buying up the catalogued works of Bob Dylan, Dee Snider, and other song cafters of the 20th century and the growing ‘threat’ of A.I.’s presence in the arts are linked, and that these catalogues will be fed into A.I. machines for the purpose of creating more Bob Dylan (and others’) records long after the death of artists like him, and that “this is what we’ll be competing with in the future.”

I have to say that if this is remotely true, I won’t be competing.
It won’t be a competition.
If there’s a market for computer generated music, it’s likely going to be in genres of music that are inherently perfect. Recordings that have been engineered to a point of soulless perfection will be under threat of being undercut by machines that can do it faster and cheaper, and that don’t come with the flawed human elements of coping with addiction, trauma, stress, and all the other things that make art a reflection of humanity.

There will be no competition because there will be no comparison. If anything, it’s just as likely that value on human performances – flawed, imperfect performances – will increase, because it is real and relatable… and because as close as these things can get to being authentically human, humans still have a gut instinct that tells them when something is ingenuine, or outright bullshit.

If anything, my skills will be even more specialized as less people are actively doing them live and in-studio.

… there will be no comparison.
And my joy in performing my craft will stay intact.

reasonable being

I’ve spent a lot of time in my life, as we all do, erring on the side of what is reasonable. Within reason. What can be reasoned with. And as much as I would consider myself to be a reasonable person, I’m not so sure that ‘being reasonable’ is something to strive for so much as it is a basic expectation. We’re all familiar with the turn of phrase “be reasonable” when attempting to quell an emotional situation because it is understood that a more moderate response to any situation implies a readiness to compromise, or in many cases, act professionally.

So allow me if I may, to substitute a less flattering synonym – the kind of thing that might be lost in a reasonable scenario, and gauge response: Lukewarm.

“I’m going to need you to be a little more lukewarm” and “You’re coming in hot, and I need you to tone it down to a lukewarm level” don’t inspire the same agreeable nature – as a matter of fact, in conversation, you might just as well try to halt an argument by piping up with “I’m going to need you to stop giving a shit” and see how the rest of the conversation goes.

Okay – now to leave figurative and broad-stroke notions behind… this is not a one-size-fits-all conversational response, of course. As I read the above statements I feel myself going from an advocate for ‘being reasonable’ to the other end of the spectrum, cheering on the (here, fictitious) impassioned underdog because in many, many cases, rational thought is the enemy.

Passion. That is what we want in our lives, and that is what makes life worth living. Pursuit of goals, both tangible and intangible, is the stuff of a life well-lived and if I’m being brutally honest with the man in the mirror (and in spite of my own chill demeanor with most things) being reasonable in times of high emotion is a disservice.

Should I have reasonable goals for my artistic expression, or should I push the limits of that expression to new heights and new realms? Should a theatre experience or a musical performance leave you feeling content and unmoved?
Is the sky the limit, or is the limit the sky?

This is not intended to be a criticism of the moderately successful or the passively motivated so much as it is a critique of self, and the lukewarm nature with which I’ve treated myself and my aspirations. The truth is that when I look deep inside, I have unreasonable and unsustainable desires and the sick & sad truth of it is that upon talking myself down – talking myself into being reasonable – I developed my very own coping mechanisms and distractions in order to keep myself in line, I developed unreasonable and unsustainable means of suppression of myself, by way of periodic and problematic alcohol and substance abuse, and and a highly transferable addiction to binge eating.

As much as I’ve been dealing with my problems head-on for the past few years, it’s at this point that I have no issue stating publicly that I have only begun to scratch the surface, and that the answer I am slowly brushing the debris away from is completely impassioned and unreasonable. I understand now that I am a creator, made in the image of the creator, and that I am NOT the most powerful being in my first-person-narrative of life experience…

… because to say that I am the main character in my story, just as you are in yours… and to say that there is no greater force than me, but to also know that I cannot control myself around a bottle of bourbon, or a box of donuts – then I must also acknowledge that the greatest force in the world is that bottle of bourbon, or that box of donuts, and that I am at best, 2nd place.

It’s clear then; that I must be humbled.
Humbled in the presence of donuts and whiskey, and anything of greater power than these things.
But I can be humbled and impassioned. I can be humbled and have unreasonable goals of self love, unreasonable goals of recovery, and unreasonable goals of reaching as many people as I can with my music, my art, and my writing.

So as much as I will be “be reasonable” when the occasion suits it… I hope to transcend the idea of a “reasonable being.”