A Sense of Wistfulness

With Dave Goldberg’s sad passing last night, I’ve been watching the tweets come up over Twitter as those he knew, and those he didn’t express their pain and condolences. It’s surreal that life is something fleeting, and that we go to bed (mostly) never considering the fact that the world could (and does) change drastically around us as we sleep.

It’s a nice sunny day here in Atlanta, and by all accounts was a good day when I awoke this morning. But the realization of the pain that people are in over Goldberg’s passing brings to light (for me, at least) an emotion that I try not to entertain all that often: wistfulness.

I try to keep it at bay because it feels almost like a sense of looking back; a sense of wishing that something was different in the past. Many times it’s in reference to something that was way out of my control, and thus took place as it had to. But the point remains that on days like this where the sense of change is so immediate and stark, I can’t help be entertain just a few wistful thoughts, and reflect on what they mean at their deepest cores. I imagine those closer to Dave than I was are doing and feeling similarly today. Sometimes all one can do is look to one’s support system to reassurance, and try to forge ahead, however painful it might be in the moment.

Writing Just to Write

It’s been a busy week, and some of the posts I put up over the past few days have been pretty intense. But not every day is a diehard battle, and it’s nice to have a moment to write in what feels like a respite from the storm. It makes the writing feel deeper, and not so urgent. The deadlines can get old after a while, and the “every minute counts” mentality is adrenalizing, but exhausting thereafter.

I love the energy I get from writing a piece that addresses something specific, but I love these more amorphous, ambiguous posts just as much. The specific pieces can create a “mill” feel sometimes, and in the moments when I find myself able and free to write about anything (or nothing), I feel able to recharge for the next focussed piece. It sounds perhaps more poetic, but the benefits of writing just to write greatly outweigh the drawbacks (if there are any). I’ll find more specific topics to cover over the weekend (in fact, I have a list), but for now I’m content to simply sit at my computer and see what flows onto the page.

Music Startups Succeed Because of Passion, Not in Spite of It

The Lead-up

Full disclosure: I am a music startup founder. 

Right now my earbuds are in, and my music is turned up so loud I can feel my spine shaking. Not because I’m angry or sad, but because I’m determined. I’m determined to put to rest the jaded notions that surround music startups, even if it takes me more than one post to do it.

I read an article on Medium today that postulated that part of the problem with music-tech startups is the passion which those music-tech founders have for their products or services. The piece concluded with this sentence: “Passion is great, but in the end, it often fades.” False.

The article, though written I’m sure with the best of intentions at shining a light on the challenges of music startups in the tech arena, is fraught with generalizations and assumptions, none of which are good to have for an objective point of view. The piece referenced a talk from Google User Experience Researcher Tomer Sharon, using it to bolster the premise that “music startups go at it about all wrong” (of course I’m taking some creative license here, but that seems to me to be the basic paraphrase of the piece).

In his talk which the piece points to, are six main points about executing the wrong plan, and how this dynamic seems to plague numerous founders. By the author’s own admission, the talk wasn’t music startup-focused, and the resulting analysis is just a serious of personal views. The application of these points to the large deadpool of failed music startups is understandable. After all it makes sense to look at a slew of failed projects and calculate the correlation and causation of their respective deaths. However, the piece takes too much latitude in my opinion, and shines a shadow on all future music startups for the sake of bolstering a (misleading) argument in the present.

Statement admitting most everything that follows is personal opinion.

Statement admitting most everything that follows is personal opinion.

The (Asserted) Problems and the Responses

Here are my responses to the six points in the talk, and subsequently in the article (the asserted points are paraphrased for the sake of simplicity:

Asserted Problem #1. Founders assume that their personal struggles are mirrored by a larger struggle that the world needs a remedy for (which the author admitted is something that does happen). Further, most people don’t care as much about music; most everyone besides you and your music friends is essentially a casual listener, and thus an insignificant statistic and/or demographic.

Statement asserting that mostly no one cares about music.

Statement asserting that mostly no one cares about music.

Response #1. In many areas, and in music as well, there are problems that avid fans/users identify that other, “more casual users/listeners,” might not identify until they can see an improvement (the proverbial before and after picture). Not every identification of a problem can or needs to come from a “casual” user. Sometimes it takes a trained and experienced eye to understand and be able to identify something as broken and to be able to innovate a way to fix it.

This has nothing to do with the passion that music startup founders have for music. It has to do with their ability to dissect an industry that they have come to know better than most, and be able to see room for innovation within it. The generalized statement that “most people don’t care as much about music as you do” is misleadingly false.

It first assumes that one (the founder) cares too much about music, or is in same way too in love with music so as not to be able to strategize accordingly. Secondly, it presumes to know what the music founder has in mind for an innovation, and already moves to the assumption that such an innovation will fail. And lastly, it presumes to generalize peoples’ unique affections for music without citing any real statistical proof.

People do care about music—in fact they care a lot. That’s the reason that Napster was such a snafu in 2000, and the reason that the music space will be the next crowded arena as numerous companies try to cut a niche in the space. People do care, though with each person at a varying degree, how can one possibly know that “most people don’t care as much as you do[?]”

Asserted Problem #2. Startup founders seek validation from friends and family, who tend to be biased.

Response #2. This is a problem that all startups face, not just music startups. The piece’s assertion that founders of a music startup essentially only congregate with similarly “music obsessed” individuals presumes to know the particular group dynamics of every music startup founder.

Statement asserting that "music people only congregate and seek feedback from other music people."

Statement asserting that “music people only congregate and seek feedback from other music people.”

I am a music startup founder, but my social circles are filled with people who populate the music, tech, theater, science, medical, and legal fields. Therefore, to reduce my social circles down to individuals who “think like I do” is fairly pandering and presumptuous.

Asserted Problem #3. Listening to users rather than observing their behavior can lead to disaster, as it can lead to building something people say they want, as opposed to something they will actually use.

Response #3. Much like point #2, this is a conundrum that plagues all startups, not simply music-related ones. Therefore, it should be relegated to the list of startup mistakes to avoid, not used as a reason to forego building a music startup.

The author’s use of the company Jukely as a buttress for the argument actually brings into question the author’s own view of the music industry. The analysis is filled with wild generalizations like “[t]he live music audience [is mostly] made up of people in their twenties” and that “many people [can’t stay out late and see music because] they have a career and kids to think about.”

Statement asserting that the only relevant music-goers are in their twenties.

Statement asserting that the only relevant music-goers are in their twenties.

Statement presuming to know the career and family dynamics of music-goers.

Statement presuming to know the career and family dynamics of music-goers.

The former is false because it’s a gross generalization (and assumption, for that matter), of the age-range of all music-goers everywhere, failing to take into account different music scenes, tastes, geographical dynamics, or any number of other factors. The latter is negated (and thereby false) because it presumes to know the intra-familial and career dynamics, realities, and responsibilities of all music-goers everywhere. As a result, the whole analysis can’t be put forward in any sort of objective way, and must therefore be taken as a matter of opinion, not a matter of fact.

Asserted Problem #4.  Most music startups don’t test their riskiest assumptions.

Response #4. This entire point negates itself because it purports to know every assumption that every music startup has, and every failure that came as result of ignoring those assumptions. Again, gross over-generalization is the culprit here.

In the midst of arguing point #4, the author makes a bold statement that I can personally bear witness to as wholly false. The author writes: “The other risk startups take when entering the music space is that they simply don’t know anything about the music business.” I am a music startup founder, and I have spent nearly a decade in the music industry.

Statement asserting that music startup founders know nothing about the music industry.

Statement asserting that music startup founders know nothing about the music industry.

Though the author does make a good point—that the “launch first, ask questions later” approach isn’t suited well to the music industry—the point is negated by the assumption that all music startup founders are simply overzealous music fans with no understanding of the inner workings of the music business. I for one take offense to that.

I was in a band in high school, and after graduating, took a gap year before college, during which I was a music journalist. I continued my journalism well into my college career, even as I simultaneously ran a radio show and conversed with artists daily. In fact, I had press access at Warped Tour in 2012 precisely because of the connections I’d made and things I’d learned during my tenure as a journalist and DJ. All of these experiences and understanding are what I draw on every day to help formulate the best decisions for my music startup.

Me on my show, Underground Takeover

Me on my show, Underground Takeover

Me with: Those Mockingbirds (top left), Bloody Diamonds (top right), The Steppin Stones (bottom left), Sunshine & Bullets (bottom left)

Me with: Those Mockingbirds (top left), Bloody Diamonds (top right), The Steppin Stones (bottom left), and Sunshine & Bullets (bottom right)

Me at Warped Tour 2012, with: June Divided (left), The Nearly Deads (middle), Might Mongo (right)

Me at Warped Tour 2012, with: June Divided (left), The Nearly Deads (middle), and Mighty Mongo (right)

Asserted Problem #5. Music startup founders become obsessed with can I build it, and lose sight of should I build it.

Response #5. Again, this is a problem that all startups must contend with. It seems that the author takes the most general points of avoidance made to most and/or all startups and sets them up as tools to bolster an argument that takes aim at music startups specifically. But in reality, if these are simply more general avoidances (seeing a pattern here?), then they have no place in this argument anyway, and are thus negated by their own generalization.

Asserted Problem/Response #6. The author actually doesn’t actually make a point #6. I assume it was meant to be taken or gleaned from the concluding paragraphs, but all that is left at the end of the piece is more generalizing. Statements like “[t]he music tech business is a graveyard littered with startups that seem cool at the time, [but no one wants or needs]” and “[the music founders] all went to SXSW, and lit some money, and crashed and burned a few years later” are more presumptuous than perhaps anything else in the piece.

Screen Shot 2015-04-30 at 8.14.56 PM

Statement asserting that music startup founders just go to SXSW and build companies no one wants.

The former of the statements asserts that no music founder could ever possibly create a music app or service people want/need, and the latter elevates SXSW to the pinnacle of godhood in the realm of music festivals. Yet if the author was familiar with the trends and grumblings that go on below the surface, then it would be understood that SXSW has in fact become sour to many independent music fans in recent years, as it leans further towards a mainstream agenda.

The last paragraph in particular is annoyingly pandering; its tone and diction betray a bitter and jaded writer using generalizations to bolster arguments of arrogance and assumptions.

The Last, False Sentence

Which brings us back to the last sentence yet again: “Passion is great, but in the end, it often fades.” Clearly the author is surrounded by other jaded personalities who forgot (or perhaps never knew) why most people get into the music business in the first place. It’s not about being the next Led Zeppelin or being rich and famous (though it’s fun to entertain fantasies); it’s because our passion is visceral—a part of us that we can’t turn off and on at will. It just exists as a nagging need, like the need to breathe when we wake up in the morning.

Passion can transform or ebb, but it rarely fades in the way that the author asserts it does. In the end, many of us in the music industry chose this business not because we wanted to solve some major problem (not at first); we chose it because it speaks to us in a way few other things do. That passion doesn’t fade. If anything, it gets stronger with every subsequent experience.

The Secret’s Out: Secret’s Dead

The Background

So it was announced today that Secret is shutting down. Part of me is completely shocked, and another isn’t all that surprised. Secret has had a lot of problems over the last year and frankly, I haven’t seen them do anything to fix any of them.

The old Secret logo

The old Secret logo

Secret blew up last year at SXSW and was everywhere after that. I’m serious, you couldn’t get away from the damned thing. Along with Whisper and Yik Yak, Secret made anonymous messaging handy and fun. Secret screenshots and threads showed up on Facebook and BuzzFeed and essentially took over spring of 2014.

The Fuckups

  1. Yet, like Yik Yak did, Secret encountered a lot of criticism over the issue of cyberbullying. As far as I’m concerned as a spectator and casual user, Secret never really addressed any of these issues. Cyberbullying continued to plague the service (at least that’s what I heard from other users), and I never really saw any major PR campaign by Secret to really dispel any of the criticism. In my opinion, that was their first major mistake.

    Screen Shot 2015-04-29 at 6.54.42 PM

    Criticism of Secret’s cyberbullying; courtesy of TechCrunch

  2. Then in December of last year, they made their second major mistake. Secret completely “redesigned” their entire interface. The app was redone from top to bottom. Here’s why the word “redesigned” is in quotes: they didn’t redesign anything, they just copied Yik Yak. No, they weren’t “inspired” or “influenced” by Yik Yak—it was just a shameless, lazy, total ripoff clone. And I wasn’t the only one who thought so.
    New Secret Redesigned Logo (left) and Yik Yak Logo (right); photo courtesy of TechCrunch

    New Secret Redesigned Logo (left) and Yik Yak Logo (right); photo courtesy of TechCrunch

    New Secret Redesigned Best/Hot Page (left) and Yik Yak Page (right); photo courtesy of TechCrunch

    New Secret Redesigned Best/Hot Page (left) and Yik Yak Page (right); photo courtesy of TechCrunch

  3. If their second major blunder set the stage, their third and final misstep locked in their fate: they really didn’t do anything about the criticism they got for essentially cloning Yik Yak’s layout and design. I don’t know if Secret’s leadership just kept hoping the backlash would go away or just didn’t care, but their inaction signed their death warrant as far as I’m concerned. Frankly, after such a series of serious blunders, today’s news isn’t as much of a shock to me as it might otherwise have been.

What They Should Have Done

Here’s what I think Secret should have done over the last year:

  1. They should have acknowledged and met criticism of cyberbullying head-on. They should have addressed it and appeared to take it more seriously than they did. They should have dumped major amounts of money into both looking for a cyberbullying-solution, and a massive PR campaign to set themselves apart from their anonymous messaging peers. The PR campaign should have centered on the fact that cyberbullying was their top concern, and that they weren’t hiding from or shirking responsibility; they were facing the problem head-on. This would have endeared them more to their userbase and the public, and possibly could have served to give them a leg up on their competition in the space.
  2. They should not have shamelessly cloned Yik Yak’s design. It was painfully obvious to everyone (even non-users), and pretty much tarnished their reputation. They came across as having no vision for their company, and as preferring to copy one of their competitors rather than do the hard work to underscore and highlight their unique qualities. The major redesign had to cost a pretty solid amount of money. I would have used that money instead for the cyberbullying problem, and put it towards the solution and PR campaign outlined above.
  3. This is the biggest kicker: they should have pulled back the “redesign” within a week and admitted their huge mistake. People understand and respond to others who act in humble and human ways, even if that means sometimes making mistakes. By not admitting their major blunder, Secret pretty much alienated the rest of their userbase.

Here is word for word the statement I would have released if I was Secret’s CEO:

Earlier this week we made a huge mistake. Our redesign did not convey the message we wanted, and we have decided to revert back to the original Secret for the moment. We do not want to be anyone other than who were are, and we know that our next step forward will better convey our vision for what we know Secret can be. Our next step will act as a tribute to our past even as we embrace our future. We never want to lose the unique qualities that make Secret so special, and we will go back to the design-board so we can better convey those qualities which we love so much. This is not the end; just a little bump in the middle. Our next step forward will be our best yet!

Unfortunately, I did’t see any release statement like that from Secret.

Why Are They Giving Up? Where’s the Fight?

That is all that it would have taken to convey to me that the people at Secret are human and have the best intentions. It would have confirmed for me that the leadership at Secret is committed to succeeding as themselves, and not trying to as someone else. Unfortunately that wasn’t the case, and now Secret’s hitting the deadpool.

What must be the most bitter pill to swallow for investors is the question of “why.” If I was an investor, knowing that Secret still had ~$35M in the bank, I would be wondering why they don’t just pull back and regroup. Where’s the fight? They have the funds, the (somewhat) intact userbase, the reputation, and the manpower, so why are they just throwing in the towel? That must be the most disappointing question for everyone involved to be struggling with right now. I know that’s what would be going through my mind as I cleaned out my desk.

Artists Live On

It always sucks when bands break up and artists move on to new projects. As music fans, we find ourselves so drawn to some artists because they speak to us on such deep levels. We them as extensions of ourselves, which makes their breakups all the more palpable and disappointing.

It’s an unfortunate reality of being in the music business that I’ve experienced this more times than I care to count. Many nights a band will come on my playlist, and I’ll find myself thinking, “damn, if only they were still putting out new material.” It’s a yearning for more of something that you love, and a deep desire to see what other creative heights they’re capable of reaching.

And yet, through others, these artists live on. I went to an event tonight at my brother’s high school, and found myself talking to a couple of his friends who shared my music taste. When I asked one of them if she’d ever heard of a few particular bands, she told me no, but that she’d be interested in hearing them. Later, after I got home, I had my brother send her a link to this band’s music video from a few years ago. According to my brother, she loves it and is asking how she can get her hands on the full album.

Things like that remind me every day why I continue to do this, even when some of my favorite artists break up and move on to new things. There is always a new audience, up and coming, curious and hungry for something they’ve never heard before. That sort of curiosity and enthusiasm is one of the reasons I love this industry so much. This music never dies. It continues to play and reach new people every day, who are eager to hear it, and pass it on. Introducing someone to something they’ve never experienced before, and see their eager grasp for it—there’s no thrill like that. Man, what a rush.

The Major Labels Are Not Reestablishing Their Dominance

The Misleading Statement

A couple weeks ago, Forbes ran an article detailing how the major record labels were taking their “revenge” on the current landscape by making “strategic partnerships” with music services to reestablish their dominance. This was a very bold statement. Here’s why it’s misleading, and essentially false.

The major record labels (the Big Three, Warner Music Group, Universal Music Group, and Sony) are indeed striking deals with music services like Spotify, Rdio, and SoundCloud, but these deals don’t signal what the article asserts that they do. The reality is that the majority of the label-service partnerships revolve around licensing rights and royalty payments, an already broken system that will continue to feel squeezing pressure as we move further into the digital age.

(click photo for larger preview)

What the major label industry really looks like; The Big Three

What the major label industry really looks like; The Big Three

The article focused on the labels’ calculated move to reassert their control as gatekeepers by using their access to artist content as a leveraging technique. This is true, and is completely expected; the labels are doing what they can to hold onto what power they have left. But the reality of the situation is that this isn’t a new move; it’s a rehashing of the same dynamics that the labels have relied on for years. This is exactly why they’re not “taking revenge” on anything or anyone.

The Ironic Voodoo of Ignoring the Middle

As much as they would like to believe they still hold the power they once did, the major labels need to acknowledge that their ability to deem music as “good” or “sellable” is essentially irrelevant in the grand scheme now. It’s lost a certain sheen of relevance because they’re no longer the only deciding force out there to dictate the music the gets made or played. Now, the power of choice and reach comes to and from anyone with an internet hookup and a laptop. Ergo, though they may try to deny it, the major labels are gatekeepers no more.

So here’s where the ironic voodoo comes in: major music streaming services like Spotify and Rdio sign licensing deals with the major labels because they think that’s the only way to survive in the music landscape, and the major labels license their music because they essentially see no alternatives at the moment. Simultaneously though, both sides ignore those artists who fall in the middle: the independents (who, by the way, make up a massively growing market). Thus they are dismissing today’s independent artists who might be major underground sensations tomorrow. SoundCloud used to be a happy place for the independents. Then even that changed when they signed a deal with Warner and began seeking out deals with the other major labels.

The Punch: The Percentage Dynamics People Ignore

I wrote here why independent artists will eventually begin to move away from SoundCloud. What I didn’t focus on at the time, and precisely what the Forbes article glazed over, are the percentages of these streaming companies that are owned by the major labels. Beyond my argument regarding SC and Warner, the Forbes article noted that Warner owns 5% of SoundCloud, which it acquired in the streaming service’s latest funding round (and also which it acquired at about a 50% discount from what other investors paid).

That’s not all though; all of the Big Three collectively own about 10-20% of other streaming services, such as Spotify and Rdio, as well, and Universal jumped on a 13% stake in Beats before Apple snapped them up. (And this doesn’t take into account all the “360 deals” that are taking place).

Thus, we have the major labels, who control the licensing that these streaming services depend on, owning parts of the streaming services themselves. Essentially they can bully the services into driving towards what’s best for their artists with the power to pull their licensing from said services if they don’t comply, thereby draining them of their lifeblood. Doesn’t sound like a pyramid scheme to me at all… Oh wait, yes it does.

(click photo for larger preview)

Major Label Percentage Ownerships of (some) Streaming Services

Major Label Percentage Ownerships of (some) Streaming Services

Here’s what it means in the bigger picture: the major labels are gobbling up these stakes to preserve their roles as the gatekeepers of the musical landscape, and to possibly make a grab at the distribution arm for their music. Despite the fact that this is working for them for the moment, it most certainly does not mean that they’re reestablishing their dominance over the music landscape. This matters for two main reasons:

  1. It underscores the reality that the labels aren’t really coming up with any new tricks; they’re just rehashing the same ones again.
  2. It proves that assertions of “equal opportunity” for independent artists on streaming services like Spotify and SoundCloud are basically false.

Why Warner Now Holds Leverage Over SoundCloud

With its 5% stake in SoundCloud, Warner will clearly attempt to steer the service’s vision and attention towards the the artists it represents, and whose interests it has at heart. Why would it not? That’s exactly what I would do. It’s not personal for Warner, it’s just business. But what it means for independent artists on SC is something much bigger: that they will no longer be the focus of the service, and again will need to contend themselves with scraps of attention after the major label(s) is (are) done feeding.

Look at it from the point of view of Warner: why would they contribute to SoundCloud’s latest round, snapping up 5% (even at a 50% discount) if they weren’t going to leverage that to their advantage? The point is they wouldn’t because they’re going to do exactly that.

soundcloud_logo

SoundCloud logo

Now that Warner has control (to some extent) over the new distribution channel, SoundCloud, as well as the music that SC wants to license (i.e. the lifeblood of any music service), it holds all the leverage in the relationship. Essentially if SC doesn’t steer its model towards what would benefit Warner’s artists, Warner can decide not to renew its licensing agreement with the service, thereby cutting out SoundCloud’s feet from under it. And the same is true with the other labels and streaming services. The labels are worming their way into controlling not only of the material for distribution (the music), but the distribution channels as well. As a result, we end up with the same concentrated power dynamics and gatekeeper power-plays as we had before.

Squeezing Models of the Past

Yet, easy though it may be for the major labels to dig into their deep pockets and purchase stakes in these streaming services hoping to once again gatekeep the music landscape, it is nonetheless not the same game they are used to playing. It’s now much easier for any music startup to get into the streaming or downloading service—and thus become a new source of distribution for artists. This means that the probability for the major labels to bottleneck and control the distribution channels is actually much smaller, particularly when it comes to artists and services that don’t focus on major label content, but rather independent dynamics.

For all their “strategic partnerships” and licensing/royalty practices, the major labels are not taking revenge or “reestablishing their dominance” over anyone. They’re still playing catch-up, and will continue to do so as long as their business model revolves around the obsolete (and completely unfair) royalty paradigm. Realistically speaking, the majors are playing a losing game: they’re no longer essential for artists to find fanbases or have exposure—the internet’s taken care of that. Independents can now crowdfund themselves, as well as make their own way in the live arena sans any “360 deals” with labels.

Perhaps the most telling part of the Forbes article came in the last sentence. One phrase pretty much summed it all up: “By looking forward, while squeezing the models of the past…” The rest is irrelevant. Even Forbes knows that the major labels’ models are outdated and like squeezing water from a stone. That begs the question: if they know, and we know, why don’t the major labels seem to get it?

Rediscovered Appreciations

I went to see my brother’s semester high school play tonight. The performance was a mix of musical theater numbers and spoken word pieces spanning a number of genres. With only about 12 students participating, I was impressed and intrigued by the amount of work each student had to put in to cover multiple characters.

Yet as I sat in the dark theater, what really started occurring to me between numbers from Rent and Fiddler on the Roof was just how much I knew about the musical theater pieces; and how much I didn’t know.

Though I’ve always loved creative sorts of things, I was never much one for musical theater. I never hated it—but I never loved it. I was always somewhat ambivalent, happy to enjoy the music I liked, and dismiss the parts that bored me. Tonight, however, some of those same pieces that I may have dismissed years earlier came back to me in a different light. And even ones I’d liked before—somehow I found myself rediscovering an appreciation that seems to have been dormant for some time.

I suppose that we never know what exactly we like and don’t like because those things can change so drastically and so rapidly. Appreciation for something is a process just as much as is the production of it. Sometimes—as with that production—that appreciation can take years to develop and catalyze in a way that becomes concretely apparent to us. In that time, many times we pay it no heed. But at the moment that it becomes clear in an instant, it seems to have come out of nowhere. Perhaps it’s not that it came out of nowhere, but that it took more time to realize something’s potential and worth.

Too Much of a “Personal Journal”?

As I write more and more of these posts, I’m noticing that they’re becoming more personal. Of course there are still those posts which are more hard-hitting news-wise, but still some days I find myself tackling new subject matter like philosophy, history, sociological experiences, and even writing in general. Though I might have resisted this trend in previous years and dismissed it too much as “personal journal” dynamic unfit for a public blog, it seems more appropriate now than ever.

When I zoom out and look at the big picture dynamics at play, I can begin to see trends at play I might have missed upon my previous dismissals. Things begin to play out in new contexts, and as thought processes are laid over one another, they begin to underscore details that otherwise might have gone unnoticed.

We can’t be trained to think like this initially, no matter how much we wish we could be, or how much we try. This thought process and worldview is only something that comes from the experiences that time gives to us, and our motivation to place those experiences over one another and look at the picture which they reveal when we do so. Bigger pictures appear every day, and if we have the right set of lids up to look at them, I’m beginning to understand the broader dynamics and trends which we will be able to discern.

When Your Fingers Bleed

I’m not a particularly amazing guitarist. I’m not horrible, but I was never going to be a virtuoso. But that never stopped me from shredding until my fingers bled.

I’ve picked up and put down numerous guitars over the years, and even a bass guitar every now and then. I knew I was never going to be the next Eddie Van Halen or Slash, but I still loved the feeling of a guitar slung over my shoulder. Just an artist’s comfort zone, I suppose.

I’ve indeed had nights where I play a riff over and over until I can’t feel my fingers anymore—just the tingle of what it feels like when you can feel the numbness coming on. Many days I’d find the tops of my strumming-hand fingers rubbed raw from hitting the strings on the downstroke. Some nights the skin was so raw and red that they bled a bit.

Perhaps some could say that my technique is faulty and that I’m doing myself a disservice, but in the end I love the feeling of that tingle when I put the guitar down. I love the struggle—the battle—to come out on top, even if I take some hits along the way. In some pseudo-masochistic way, I consider those raw fingers and numb hands the cost of being a part of the music fold. That’s the cost of being so drawn to something, you couldn’t walk away if you wanted to. Like a moth to a flame, those little cuts are the burnt edges of my wings.

I love the feeling of the calluses and the slightly metallic scent on my fingers after. Sometimes it’s not the worst thing in the world when your fingers bleed. On some nights, after you’ve struggled and fought through a song until you hear it right, it just feels right.

A Little Struggle

The goal to write every day isn’t as enchanting as it was a few weeks ago. On days like today, its become a struggle just to complete a post.

Yet I don’t think this is because of writer’s block, or because writing every day is a burden on my schedule. Rather, I think it’s because writing every day has become so easy that it contributes some days to a feeling a languid procrastination; a thought process of: I’ll write later in the day, and it’ll be fine.

It doesn’t make me lazy to decide to write later in the day; some days it’s been the only time I’ve had a moment to collect my thoughts. But I am realizing that the urgency of putting pen to paper (so to speak) dwindles some days by the evening time. In so many ways, I need “the struggle” to keep pushing words out because the urgency becomes about the goal I’ve set for myself. I’ve become so entrenched in what I’m doing, that I don’t want a day to pass without finding a moment to write.

This struggle isn’t something that I run from, though. It seems to provide just the right amount of flame for me (at least in current moment). I’ll see how things progress, but for now, the struggle aids me in completing my goal every day. Maybe a little struggle is a good thing.