It's impossible to meet new people without the conversation ultimately veering in the direction of occupation. While I would never use the words, "So, what do you do?", I understand that this is (usually) merely an attempt to get to know someone better and is just standard, boring banter. Discussing politics or religion is considered a taboo when being introduced to new people. It’s probably for the best. These topics should be open season, but will usually lead to undesirable consequences. Therefore, "what do you do?" has a more innocuous tone. I understand these dynamics, I just don't particularly care for them.
Admittedly, I'm not much of a group person at all. In some circles, the current version of "me" would be seen as feral, or at least undomesticated. I don't shy away from these opinions. My honesty can be brutal at times. If asked this inevitable question, I'll probably give an answer that is completely unexpected. I hate small talk, don't give a damn about my image, and frankly, I become bored easily.
This particular awkward social situation presents itself most often at gatherings. Regardless of the setting, people are usually brought together by a common friend or family member. For me, trying to find commonality with complete strangers can be an arduous task. Unlike many, I don't force conversations and I never find silence awkward. I have been accused of being standoffish in the past, but recently I have become quite fascinated by people, even complete strangers. It's just not interesting to me what sort of toil people engage in order to justify access to basic necessities like food and shelter. Do they really believe their job duties are interesting to someone they've just met? Is it nervousness?
Thinking the worst of strangers is a game I will no longer play without evidence. Still, I can't help but wonder sometimes why people talk about their job during leisure time. Sure, it's customary, but why? Am I the only person who cannot help but ask such questions internally? Maybe. I find myself being "the only" in most social situations.
I used to try to acclimate to a group. This behavior was detrimental to me in every instance of my past experience. Authenticity has improved my self-esteem, and has reduced the volume of anxious, intrusive inner monologues during social situations to a whisper (they were once a roar). So, if I'm considered "weird" by strangers or even people I know well, it doesn't bother me. I am weird. It's cool by me. I'm never intentionally offensive, but I don't put on faces either.
Vibes are something I’m sensitive to. I've found that the best method for handling toxic situations/people is making every attempt to remove myself from the negativity quickly. Sometimes, it’s not practical or even possible. When encountered with these unfortunate predicaments, I always stand my ground now (also an essential element of my healing process).
Sometimes the "WDYD" question is asked with insidious intent. It's more than small talk. The true motivation is to establish some imaginary social hierarchy. "Imaginary" being the operative word. That's when things get tricky. In these moments, I have certain demands of myself. Passivity has been a personality trait which has caused me great emotional and mental distress throughout my life. I've discontinued this practice in the interest of my own well-being. No, I do not initiate conflict, but when faced with it, I have become extremely assertive. I'm not the kind of person anyone should provoke and not expect a strong response. Respect is a two-way street.
My sensitivity to social norms is nothing new. For as long as I can remember, the feeling of not belonging has been a constant. When I reflect on the many times, I contorted my personality in attempts to fit in, it makes me nauseous. I have never once felt the freedom of total acceptance in a group setting. Well, maybe for a while back in college.
I was fortunate enough to connect with a tribe of outcasts at NCCC in Saranac Lake, NY. We didn't have much in common as individuals. What made us friends was that feeling of not belonging. Being a year older than most of my friends, I look back and see myself as the common denominator; the one who brought the weirdos together. That distinction isn't mine to officially claim though. My friends may view things differently, and that's just fine. It was never a competition. We were more about getting wasted, roasting each other, and laughing our asses off. There was an unspoken rule of “seriousness not allowed”.
Last week I was approached by a couple of young guys while playing street music (busking) on the Square in Watertown, NY. They offered me a hit from a dab pen, stating that they didn't have any money to give me. I had to decline, as taking that hit would have had dire legal ramifications. That's a different story altogether. The actions which led to my current legal situation are the reason behind my daily presence in Watertown during the week. That's an example of me turning a negative situation into a positive one. It’s what I do these days. Allowing myself to slip into pessimism would be unhealthy, so I make the most of any situation. I guess it’s training.
I describe this encounter for a specific reason. First, it was cool of those two young men to understand that street performers often get tipped. Let's face it, Watertown isn't anything like Battery Park in NYC. Second, one of them asked the question, "So, what do you do?" My answer was important. It was an admission, stated out loud, that I have never offered to a complete stranger before. Actually, I have never spoken to anyone with such unabashed honesty in reference to my current profession. So, of course, now I’m doing so on a public platform, because it sense to me.
My reply to the young man was this: "You're looking at it."
The Roots of My Passion
My short answer to the young man's question was an enormous oversimplification of my vocation as a whole. While street performance is an integral aspect of it, there are many more elements and layers to exactly what it is that I "do". Grandiosity doesn't mix well with my sensibilities. My philosophy is egalitarian. I don't brag, because I find bravado disgusting.
This is probably a big reason why I don't usually make fast friends with other musicians. Sure, I do make connections, but as with any other bond I forge with others, humility is a required trait in a friend. That's justohow I'm wired.
I have met plenty of musicians who view the art-form like a sport, or some other form of competition. To me, this is vile and disrespectful to the medium as a whole. Musician talk can involve a lot of dick waving. This is why I find the marketing aspects of music tedious and uncomfortable. I can only see and hear music as an art-form. It’s subjective. My preferences are not going to be the same as anyone else's. Who am I to claim that my music is "good"? Self-promotion is an unfortunate reality for independent artists. I accept this. I don't have to like it.
*I will offer a tip to those who made the questionable choice of reading my blog (thank you, by the way): music, writing, art, jewelry making, sculpture, poetry, etc. are not HOBBIES. They are not "side-hustles" either. When creative people work regular jobs, it's a survival thing. Please, do not ever refer to artists as hobbyists. It's disrespectful, especially coming from a person who is not creative. Not only is it disrespectful, it's ignorant. Every one of us longs to (insert creative medium here) do this full-time. Survival jobs are a detriment to creativity, without exception. Collecting figurines is a hobby. Creating original art is a vocation and a passion. Don't confuse the two.
Self-aggrandizement is a game I refuse to play, but I would like to offer a snapshot into what goes in to what I do, the estimated time it takes, and how I became who and what I am. It's strictly anecdotal. My mindset is one of continous evolution. I will never be satisfied with myself as a creator, or as a human. My only competition is yesterday’s version of me.
Inspiration comes in many forms. Everyone has influences. I’m no exception. That list expands with time and I'm pretty old. I'm still adding to it. When I hear other musicians talk about influences, they usually reference celebrities. I'd be lying if I said that I didn’t admire, and even attempt to emulate famous musical creators. It's actually what sparked my interest when I was young. My father had an expansive vinyl collection. This love for music didn't spawn from anywhere foreign.
My father is an incredible vocalist. He introduced me to artists like Jimi Hendrix, Led Zeppelin, The Beatles, Janis Joplin, and many more of the greats. As wonderful as those mentioned are, my real desire to be a musician came from Dad taking me to his band rehearsals.
I was just a young child. Listening to their band was like something out of a dream. To this day, my biggest musical influence is probably still him.
Early on, while watching my father and his band rehearse, my young mind began to fantasize about being of part of this glorious thing; something I couldn't completely understand.
It was loud! The parents of today would find exposing a young boy to that decibel level irresponsible, maybe even a self-justification for becoming a CPS rat. That’s unfortunate. These experiences shaped me. Without them, I wouldn't have found my passion...well, at the very least, it would have been less probable.
Loud music can be a full body experience. If you've never felt that deep bass punch you in the chest, you really haven't experienced music properly. Technology has worked against the quality of modern music (opinion). My gripes about it are too many to list. As I type, my Bluetooth headphones are draped around my neck. I enjoy them, but they aren't nearly loud enough.
I was born in 1973 with music in my blood. In addition to Dad, my grandfather, Gorham Allen, on my mother's side, was an accomplished big band and jazz trumpet player. About a decade ago, my father played me a very old (1930s-40s?) vinyl record of my grandfather's jazz band. Grandpa had chops! I won't claim to be any sort of jazz expert, but I can hear talent and ability ring through in anything.
My grandfather was obviously formally trained. He was an only child in well-to-do, small-town family who owned and operated a successful sand and gravel business. He was the gentlest man I have ever known. As a human, his example inspires me most.
Like my father, my musical skills are self-taught. Yeah, Dad showed me a few “cowboy chords” on his guitar when was about 12 years old. I'll offer no credit to anyone, other than that, for teaching me how to play music. It was all self-directed.
I learned to play guitar by ear, trying to emulate my favorite songs while blasting my cassette tapes in my room. I later learned to read tablature (sort of). School activities like Band and Chorus never appealed to me. I developed my singing voice the same way, by belting it out (badly) to my cassettes. I was shy about my singing voice because my father was/is extremely intimidating and critical, not just about music.
A few inborn traits are required for my method of learning: a natural sense of rhythm and timing, near-perfect pitch, and most importantly: the willingness to suck out loud.
So, I guess I'd say my musical acumen is a combination of nature and nurture, perfectly complimented by a propensity to be unapologetically annoying to all within earshot. I'm still annoying people.
Part two to follow...
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