Success

I Wanna Be Great At Something

Raised in the South as a male child of parents who grew up during the Great Depression, I was pretty clear that I was expected to get a “real” job, be successful at it (whatever that meant), and of course be financially secure. I never really questioned this until I was in graduate school in computer science and began to lose my commitment to pursuing a PhD. Was I really that interested in computer stuff? Was this it?

After a ludicrously inept, short-lived and unsuccessful attempt to figure out how to make a living as a musician, significantly fueled by a long and chronic lack of confidence in my musical abilities, I got a “real” job in “data processing”. I had to wear a suit and tie (suit, not just jacket and “slacks”) and show up at 9am sharp (sharp!). Once I got this job my father proclaimed “Guy Jr. you’re on your way.” I can still hear his voice in my head.

Still trying to please my father
Make something of myself
One voice saying why bother
The other says watch yourself
And I know
He’s never gonna be pleased
And if I can’t shake him
I’ll never be at ease

Those lyrics are from another song I wrote a few years ago – I need to release a proper recording of it at some point. But clearly these thoughts have been with me for a while. A very long while.

I Wanna Make a Mark

I didn’t last long in that “real” job, and after a bumpy stretch I eventually landed in another “real” job that was more my style – no set hours or dress code, interesting work, great people, etc. By finding my own way I was “on my way”, I guess. So in the end it seems that I have achieved what my parents had always hoped: a “real” job, some success, financial stability. Yay.

During the last couple of years of my “real” job, I struggled a good bit. I think I lacked the requisite “fire in the belly”. My oversimplified diagnosis is that I was burned out. I prefer that over thinking that I wasn’t good enough or smart enough. And yet, although I left that job with a feeling of being burned out, what was supposed to be my next move? Get a “real” job, of course.

So I spent some months trying to find such a job that I thought I would enjoy and would be good at. And, in the midst of failing to find such a job, I had a radical thought: I should retire! Maybe the money part could work. My unfailingly supportive wife and family were down for it. And what I would do next was crystal clear: start a band.

It Can Be Anything

I had always played music all along the way, despite my chronic lack of confidence. I used to describe music as a “disease”. It’s not the most appealing metaphor, but incurable disease does capture a couple of salient things – it’s always there, and it won’t go away.

So I picked a couple of songs I had written over the years and plunged into writing new ones. I made home demos of the songs, arranging all the parts. I hired a band, and we played some gigs in NYC. I had never been completely responsible for the music before, much less fronted a band. So I also got to attack my low confidence demons. What joy! It was exhilarating, exciting, fun, rewarding, magical.

And….of course I also had some serious expectations. Can you guess? “Success”. Financial stability (or in this case, at least it should pay for itself – renting rehearsal studios and paying the band).

WTF?!

The success part has really not happened (more on this in a second) – I/we have failed to attract a fan base beyond some family and friends. And the NYC clubs won’t rebook you if you can’t bring in an audience. (In a post a while ago I said that we have a “customer acquisition” challenge.) I spent a bunch of money running ads on Facebook in a failed attempt to find an audience. It doesn’t appear to exist. I have thought a lot about why. I’m an old white guy whose music doesn’t fit clearly in a typical genre. The music is dated. Folks my age aren’t interested in new music. Folks my age don’t go out to clubs. I like to think it’s not because the music is crap, but …

And of course this undertaking hasn’t paid for itself; paying for rehearsals and gigs costs too much for me to justify continuing to pour money into something that all too often feels like a vanity project. So the band is on hiatus. I miss playing with the band. I miss playing in front of people.

Just Wanna Knock It Out of the Park

Yet I keep writing songs, arranging and recording them, and putting them up on the streaming services for the handful of folks who listen. I do secretly hope that one of them will go viral, or that Spotify will choose one for a playlist, or something. But I just keep on keepin’ on anyway – after all, it’s a disease. And I LOVE it. I love all of it. And that’s success, innit? Every day I suggest to myself that, in fact I am succeeding at this. Success! And yet … (click on the image to listen)

One of that handful of loyal friends who listen to my music recently emailed me this:

Your previous few posts and songs have caught my attention - Inaction, because it’s a powerful concept; and Ennui, because you captured what many of us of a “certain age” are going through in these troubled and fractious times.

Well, that makes it all worth it, doesn’t it? So, to all of you who do listen, THANK YOU. I know it doesn’t need to matter, but it does.

I do hope I’ve knocked it out of the park, finally. If not, there’s always the next one. Shortly I’ll be releasing another new song that’s a kind of companion to this one, some musings about what happens when you never do the thing you really really want to do. In the meantime, thanks again for listening.