On Gratitude...

Sunday Check-In (8/11/24)

Happy Sunday, internet friends!

This week’s photo of me with Cryptid Soup mascot Camembert was taken by my friend and drummer, Jessica.

… in the Midst of Self-Imposed Suffering

My week started out OK, but just went a little sideways. Most of it was just me being too much in my head and dealing with human emotions, which sometimes suck.

Part of the process of learning to be a creativity coach is self-coaching, and that can bring up some icky stuff. Being an artist is ultimately about making meaning, which can feel like serious business. This week’s topic in one of my courses was about self-talk and really examining how we talk to ourselves, especially at times when that self-talk is negative. The following was my response in full.

On Self-Talk

I think my self-talk is more of the complex, “bundle of meanings” kind. I have found reason to forge my own path in almost every regard of making and sharing my creative work. There is the occasional garden variety self-limiting talk, but more often it’s a broader statement about the inequity of the art world / entertainment industry or a desire to distance myself from the “right way” of doing things, which is mostly defined by rich white men profiting in some way from all of the struggling artists following their arbitrary guidelines.

I got an email this week promoting a guide along the lines of “X things to do before releasing your album”. Of course, I know that the author is just collecting emails to eventually try to sell me something, but I actually recognized and respect the author, so I jumped through the hoops for the free download anyway. The way-too-long list included things like market research and getting signed up with a distributor to get your songs on Spotify and the like. To be honest, I immediately had 2 or 3 reasons I wouldn’t be doing pretty much everything on the list. I wonder if I’m so radicalized or disillusioned that it’s pointless to even consider making money from my art. I feel like there’s an underlying low-key rage in my soul at the incessant commodification of music and art to the point that truly creative and unique work is frowned upon outside of snooty academic circles, which of course have their own elitist baggage.

My distaste for sales funnels, billionaire tech bro exploitation, and cookie-cutter pop music has ultimately led me to a folk-punk sort of ethos (but not aesthetic) of finding or making community around music that functions very differently than the mainstream. I learned a long time ago to skip the checklist and just put out albums, which is why I have 139 of them so far. I don’t feel that I was ultimately put on this planet to craft a handful of perfect 3-minute songs, discarding every less-than-perfect creation because it’ll never get picked up as background music for a TikTok video. When I listen back through my own work, every track has some inherent value or meaning or interesting sound or technique that makes it worthy of taking up Bandcamp server space. 

I definitely don’t want to be an Ariana Grande or an Elton John, but I struggle to understand why I can’t seem to elevate myself to the status of a Mary Halvorson or an Elliot Sharp. It often feels like it’s a lack of proximity to academia, not knowing the right person, not living in the right place, or some other nonsense. I know I don’t perform enough in public, but I have no interest in entertaining bar crowds or playing the 10th stage at an overbooked festival. I know most of my music isn’t on Spotify or YouTube, but I have little to no interest in helping build multi-billion dollar monopolies that devalue art and refuse to pay artists fairly for our work.

I kind of know that if I ever do arrive as an artist, it will be specifically because I got there in a way that no one else considered. To be honest I’m not sure if the negative voice is the one preventing me from following the well-defined paths or this one that sometimes wonders if my demand avoidant nature is getting in the way and that I should just do the things. 

I read another article today from Ted Gioia which wondered if the avant-garde had disappeared and should anybody care. I feel the question could be re-written to say “do people exist if they aren’t creating content on TikTok”. If you can’t find the innovative art being made in the world, then you’re not looking hard enough. Just because it’s not being played in NYC jazz clubs doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. Browsing the avant-garde tag on Spotify or YouTube won’t get you there, because the system turns every word into an immutable genre chained to its own history. “Free Jazz” ceased to be a philosophy and became an aesthetic just like everything else critics and the media latch on to. Any term codified by writers immediately kills the thing it’s meant to describe by entrapping it like a fossil in amber. “Avant-garde” will never again be about the future because it is firmly rooted in the past. Ted finally hits the mark with the realization that the avant-garde just isn't embracing the right artists at the forefront of innovation, but then again, maybe those artists realize that being embraced by a 200 year old concept is a death sentence.

So yeah, it’s not so much self-deprecating head voice as it is a general distaste of trying to actually be an artist in a society that elevates the commercial and devalues the innovative. I don’t for one second feel like the act of creating itself is meaningless or unimportant, but beyond making music for myself in my bedroom or with half a dozen musicians in a studio, it’s hard to find a clear path forward that’s not selling out or giving up. 

But still, I’m working on it.

So yeah, that was a rant

This is the form that negativity often takes in my mind, and it can spread if left unchecked. I wrote all of that on Wednesday after stewing on it a bit, and by Thursday night’s studio session I was pretty off-kilter, which made the experience not all it could have been, despite some beautiful moments. (Sorry to my fellow cryptids for maybe not bringing 100% Thursday night.)

Friday I had a co-coaching meeting with my awesome new fellow coach-in-training friend Quinn and was able to talk through things a bit. Saturday I chatted for hours with Jessica, before heading back home to review some of the 1-on-1 interviews for the documentary being filmed about Cryptid Soup and my system of harmony.

And that’s when I fully snapped out of it. Watching my queer musical friends and co-conspirators talk about their positive experiences with me and Cryptid Soup reminded me that none of that music industry or “making it as an artist” bullshit has anything to do with real life and the reason I do what I do. It’s about love for music and connection with beautiful people, beautiful sounds, and the awesomeness of being. What was I even thinking?

I am so very grateful

So yes, I am extremely grateful for my friends, for my community, for my amazing spouse, for music, for my health, for my bunch of lovely furbabies, and for people on the internet who read my silly self-indulgent newsletters. And that gratitude carries me through when I can get out of my head and remember my true nature as loving awareness.

Hopefully next time I start getting into a little funk, I can just remember to think of the things I’m grateful for. Or jump on a Zoom call with my friends for a reminder.

What are you grateful for?

That’s all for this week! Thanks as always for reading. Leave a comment (or reply to the email) and let me know how you’re doing!

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