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A Blog About Creativity
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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.
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.
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?