Craftsmen and Singular Passions
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Music is absolutely essential to my life in the way that anything could be without actually being in the same category as food, shelter, etc. Some people are really into sports, or food, or cars, so on and so forth. Many people, if not everyone, has something that just means more than other things. Music is that thing.
I am a harsh critic. That is what I hear, anyway. I prefer to think of myself as a bell curve critic. I dislike those people that just hand out max ratings (5/5 star) for everything that slightly tickles their fancy. It doesn’t mean anything at that point. There are plenty of them, the “Default 5” people.
For me, a 1 star song is one I should listen to again, as I might want to delete it. It passed the first listen, but I’m not sure. A 2 star song is one that’s good enough to keep but I don’t want it on my MP3 player. I’ll listen to it at home from time to time. A 3 star song is a good song. I’ll bring it with me. A 4 star song is really good, a gem in the rough. I’ll probably go looking for this song a fair bit. A 5 star song is legendary.
To date, having listened to – well who knows how many, actually, – throngs of songs, I’ve only 18 songs that have earned 5 stars.
There were some that rose through the ranks very rapidly, an ‘instant classic’ if you will, such as: ‘All Time Low’ by Nine Inch Nails. Others I finally promoted begrudgingly, as if I finally admitted what I knew all along. The Final Fantasy VII String Machine (Corel Prison OCRemix) by FFMusicDJ is a good example. I’ve listened to it repeatedly, as I do all of my 4 Star songs, but that one in particular just deserved it. It wrested the 5th star from me.
Harsh critic.
Rarely do I not have music playing. Should you ever walk in* and it is quiet, feel free to ask what’s wrong. In fact, I encourage it.
As a being with very limited sensory replication abilities (discussed elsewhere) music enables me to do things that I think normal people can do normally – daydream, imagine, pretend, feel, experience.
With all this said, I think my dream job would be the owner and primary DJ of a moderately successful club on a moderately visited beach. I wouldn’t want to be too big, nor be on a place that’s a tourist trap. Too impersonal, too much hassle, not the lifestyle I would like.
Big enough so people would say “Go check this place out, you’d really like it” and it works that way.
Maybe have a pier over the water, and a decent amount of tap handles.
I would love to be able learn all the ins-and-outs of live performances. I would love to be able to handle crowds. I would love for people to be happy at things I do, even if for a couple hours. A brief venting of pressure.
I would love to be able to talk music with you. Much like the aforementioned tap handles, I really can’t. I had to pull up my 5 star playlist. I knew I had few, but still had to look. I can’t sit and talk artists, albums, and history. Especially when put on the spot. I can’t go to a record store and flip through and go “oh yeah! these guys, I liked this record – reminds me of these other guys” and journey down a happy rabbit hole. At best, I do that here, in my office at my computer. See my discussion on resourcefulness.
Resourcefulness isn’t memory. Resourcefulness isn’t continuity.
I can tell you how much I have enjoyed certain types of Industrial, Metal, as well as Drum and Bass only insofar as some of the things I’ve been exposed to and have made a lasting impression on me. I regularly go into my library and play songs I’ve previously rated and understand why I rated them as such but don’t really remember listening to it.
That would make for a great set of job skills right there. 11:30, friday night. Taps are flowing, the pier is fairly crowded and the floor is packed. I’m up there – drawing a complete blank. I’m anxious, don’t really remember how to work the gear and I have no idea what music/samples I’m looking for.
I’m a spectator instead of an active participant, and I’m constantly upset by that. I have a strong work ethic, and I am in a hamster wheel just exhausting myself. I’m not sure if the brick wall with all the stains from me bashing my head onto it is worth cleaning any longer.
I think of people who have singular passions. People who are craftsmen in their fields. Heroes of mine, per se. I think of: Rodney Mullen the skateboarder, Magnus Nilsson and Rene Redzepi – chefs who do far more than just cook, George Carlin and Jon Stewart – people who we weren’t supposed to take seriously showed us that those we were have failed, Burton C. Bell and Trent Reznor, musicians who do more than just show up and play their part in a band, and the brewmasters at Stone and Singlecut.
These are people who have (or had, RIP George Carlin) a vision for things, a grand idea, and pursue it with passion. Rene Redzepi literally was given the Best Restaurant of the Year award and promptly told people to fuck off. He doesn’t play the fine cutlery and fancy suit games. You can see Jon Stewart’s heart pouring out through the TV when he speaks. The satire makes you laugh and wince. Then it hits you. Trent Reznor’s visions permeate through everything he does: his stage presence, his music, his cover art – all of it. Singlecut’s beers are just that damned good.
I want to be like that. I am angry I’m not like that. I’m angry I can’t be like that. I would love to have a reputation for a quality craft. I would smile at night, knowing I am doing something well and people look forward to what I do in some meaningful way.
I think craftsmen are underappreciated today. When you have a few moments, pull up a video of a Japanese noodle master preparing a meal. Just watch. The practiced precision. All masters make things look easy.
I’m not good at anything, other than being taken advantage of or taken for granted I suppose. Neither of which are good resume points.
When one has little memory, one has nothing from which to build. No foundation. No growth. As such, I’m stuck on the most basic of entry level tasks. I can only do what I can pick up at that moment. I am largely bound by things I can start and finish in one sitting. I simplify everything by necessity, and am almost incapable of more complex things beyond what I learn there on the spot. I learn quick, which is often my saving grace, but then it’s gone.
Imagine any master craftsman being unable to progress past entry level tasks. Through the tears, the drive, the pain – the inner mental reset button is unwillingly pressed. Frequently.
Resourcefulness only gets you so far.
So here I am, listening to my music and dreaming of a different life. A life where not only I am capable of accomplishing what I am driven to do, but I am appreciated for doing so.
The song ends, and I’m back here at my desk. Where I check my phone and realize I’ve received but one phone call all week. I provide nothing of value. There isn’t anything to appreciate.
Art? Music? Writing? I’m on the wrong spectrum of emotions for all that. No audience.
The next song comes on. I can again put down the unfortunate reality wherein whether I want to share big concerts, or I can’t walk and I need help it doesn’t matter.
I’m alone and I can’t even just hide in my work like other people do.
*Note: I couldn’t even type that without laughing.