I can't remember who made this statement, maybe Charles Barkley, but it goes something like "I'm just trying to get to the top so I can send the elevator back down." Sports is a lot like music in that if you are able to perform at the highest level, the benefits are great. You become rich. You become a celebrity. People you don't know read your blogs and follow you on twitter. Actually, this isn't exclusive to sports and music, I suppose no matter what you do, if you do it at a very high level there will be some degree of fame and fortune.
Do I want to be rich and famous? Of course I do. I'm not gonna lie. And by the way, I know plenty of musicians who have no desire to be famous, and even a few who don't want to be rich. But I've never been meager. As far as fame is concerned, to me it would be a validation that the things I have always felt important and worthwhile are recognized by a wide audience. When I was playing with Scotland Barr & The Slow Drags I knew that Scot's songs were so well crafted that it would be a great injustice to the world collective if they did not at some point achieve a wide audience. I may not be able to write great songs myself, but I think I know one when I hear it. If I were moderately famous for some reason, I could tweet or blog about music I thought people should hear and then people would hear it. Plus, it would make talking to girls that much easier. 31 and still lousy at talking to girls...
Level of fame desired: Moderate. If I could one day hope to be as widely known as Bun E Carlos then my life will have been a smashing success. I don't really care if a bunch of 14 year old girls know who I am. But to have accomplished enough in the music world to be known and respected by people in that world, would be a great honor.
Level of riches desired: Low to Moderate. I've lived on nothing for the past couple years. It's not so bad really. But I do feel like if I had just a little bit of financial success, I could set up some nice things for me and anyone else interested in making great music. I've always had great ideas, and ideas take money. The more money I have, the more elevators I can install to send back down.
Anyhow this whole getting closer to the elevator idea is something I've really been focusing on for the past couple of years. If someone were to send The Elevator back down to me, well I'd have to be in The Lobby to catch it. That's kind of what we have going on in Portland right now. The point is to be dialed in to the music scene, to have friends working toward the same goal. I don't really know how many "friends" I have. Facebook would say that number is somewhere in the upper 200s. But I can count on one hand the number of those "friends" who came to any of my shows in the last year.
An old friend of mine made a great point. He said friendships are basically a business relationship; both parties stand to benefit in some way and as soon as one of them no longer benefits the friendship ends. In a related story, I never see or hear from him anymore. This only bothers me a couple times a year, like when I hear about a birthday party or camping trip and wonder why I wasn't invited. But then again, I probably wouldn't have gone anyhow because I really have so little in common with those people now we'd have almost nothing to talk about.
It used to drive me crazy that my friends would never come to my shows. But I realized they're not bad people, they're just not that in to music. How in the world I ended up with a bunch of friends who care so little about something that means so much to me is still a mystery, but it happened. The thing is, I still identified with that crowd much more than with the music crowd for way too long. I grew up in Salem with a pretty conservative, business-minded upbringing. I never considered myself an artist. When I was playing with the aforementioned Drags, I rarely would hang out after the show. I almost went out of my way to avoid getting sucked into the art-music-culture community. This baffles me. I was a fool. Anyhow, too late now but moving forward I know what to do. Gone are the days where I would quickly pack up after a gig and high tail it to some party with a bunch of people who don't care about music.
I've never been a populist, I've always been more of a niche guy. In social gatherings I'm often found off to the side with a small click who gets Simpsons and Spinal Tap references without citation. And if someone said Dane Cook was funny, I would know that I didn't need to talk to that person ever again. But it's different with music. I used to bang my head against the wall trying to explain to people why John Mayer sucks and Ryan Adams is brilliant. Why do I care what they think?
A guy I used to drink beer with, who is actually my Dad's age, once told me why people do drugs. "90% of the time," he said, "it's not fun. But you're trying to recreate that one magical time when it was awesome." So that's why I often catch myself taking up the cause of great music. Because once upon a time there was this girl who basically liked whatever was on the radio, but I could tell that she was smart so I told her about some obscure bands. I even made a few mix tapes. And as near as I could tell it worked. She really liked these new bands. Unless of course she was just paying lip service, which I doubt since she shot down every advance I ever made. But ever since then I've thought that exposing people to The Jayhawks was a worthwhile endeavor. Even if it fails 90% of the time, when it succeeds it's High Fidelity. But a 10% rate of success does not a smart life-plan make. Better to surround myself with people who already like The Jayhawks.
So, being in The Lobby. Getting closer to The Elevator.
I feel like I'm just scratching the surface of this thing we have happening right now in Portland. But it's a great feeling. I know people who are Making It. When I first started writing this blog a couple years ago, it was because I took a long hard look in the mirror. I couldn't pay my rent, I was about to turn 29, and I had hoped to achieve some sort of financial security by the time I was 30. I evaluated all my strengths and weaknesses and was honest with myself, for the first time ever, with what I thought I could actually do long term occupation wise. The only option that made sense was Musician. It seemed the likeliest of all scenarios. But that notion was a hard sell to pretty much everyone else in my life at the time. Now that I am surrounded by folks who are making a go of it, and some who have already succeeded, it validates my notion. Call me crazy, but I'm starting to feel less like if and more like when.
And the best part is, I don't even care when when is. I'll always find a way to make the rent and the car payment and to eat, drink, and be merry. So long as I'm on the path, I'm headed in the right direction. Even if I never get there, the trip will be fun.
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