Why do we do this?
I was recently in a group in which the leader, a part-time musician, frequently made statements such as, "when music stops being fun, it’s time to stop playing". Something about this always seemed off to me, but I couldn’t quite place it. I do enjoy playing, after all. I can’t deny that it’s a much more "fun" occupation than, say, data entry or flipping burgers. But I have to say that if I followed his advice, I probably would not have ever gotten through 6th grade band, let alone a professional music career.
For those contemplating a music career, or even a "semi-pro" hobby, allow me to pull back the curtain for a moment. Sitting in a small, dark room for hours every day with nothing to keep you company but a snare drum and a book of etudes is not fun. Listening to 10 students a day butchering a piece of music on multiple levels, then not understanding why they can’t move on is not fun. Taking 30 minutes to load up your car full of drums in the rain, driving to the venue, 30 mins. to unload, an hour to set up and sound check, an hour to tear down and load out, then 30 mins. to unload the car again (yes, that’s 3.5 hours in addition to actually playing the 3 hour gig) is not fun, especially when you walk out the door with $10 in tips. Ten messages a day from parents who just have to reschedule a lesson is not fun. Could I go on? Of course, for hours, but that’s not the point here, so I’ll stop. The point is, if it’s not for the fun, why do we do this to ourselves?
One frequent answer is something about the love of performing in front of a crowd (the "glory" as one guitar player put it), the applause, the "party" of it all. Now, I can definitely see the appeal here, but what happens when you have an off night? What happens when the crowd is small, tired, or just not in to it? Does the music suffer? Do you not play the gig? What about life in the studio? Is that purely a "delayed gratification" thing? No, this just doesn’t do it for me. I often forget that there even is an audience when I’m playing, and my mindset is the same as if I’m practicing alone or in the studio. Would I do it if there were no audience? I have, I do, and I’m sure I will.
Over the past few days of coffee-shop contemplation, I’ve come up with three reasons why I continue to be a musician. I guess you could think of them as my checklist for projects I’d consider being involved in, as well. Here, then, is "why I do it":
- Artistic fulfillment
- Technical challenge
- Financial compensation
Now, all three of these criteria are rarely present at the same time, but the other two could make up for the loss of the third. I’ll get back to that at the end, first let’s take a look at each point a little closer.
I’ll start with the last, and easiest to discuss, though it is the one I’m least comfortable with. Let’s be honest, though. My landlord doesn’t care how artistically pure I am, and Taco Bell wouldn’t take the cleanest paradiddles in the world in exchange for a burrito (sorry, haven’t had lunch yet). Music is a viable career, and I expect to get paid for what I do. If you want a professional job, you hire a professional. You could get an amateur for free, but you could get an amateur carpenter to build your house, too. You know what kind of result you’d get, though. Same holds true for the arts. Enough about money, though, it’s pretty self-explanatory.
Second, technical challenge. Some musicians practice for a few years until they "learn their instrument", then never pick it up again outside the gig. I am not one of those musicians. I don’t like playing with those musicians. I really don’t even like being around those musicians. One of the greatest draws about music to me (and especially percussion) is that you can never reach the top. There is always something more to learn, some little bit that can get better, another hill to climb. When I buy a CD, one of the main factors influencing the purchase is what I’ll be able to learn from it. I don’t buy CD’s if I can do what’s on it. I’m always looking to expand my abilities and my understanding of my instrument(s) and music in general. The best musical memories I have are of the times when I was in over my head and had to work to keep the gig. Fun? No. Fulfilling? Very.
Lastly, the first thing I think about when choosing a gig, learning a piece, even getting out of bed in the "morning" (a relative term for musicians, I know). Artistic fulfillment. What is that? Honestly, I don’t know. Very much like asking "What is Art?" this concept means something different to every person on the planet. I know I don’t find it in rock and roll, while others see that as the leading edge of musical art today. I guess for know I’ll have to leave that one at "I know it when I see it", but it is due for more examination in the near future.
Now, for the weighted scale. Would I go on tour for Britney (no artistic fulfillment, little technical challenge, very high financial compensation)? I’d be VERY tempted, and would probably take it. Making enough money to pay for more artistic endeavors counts for a lot, and let’s face it, real art doesn’t pay the bills. Would I play with a bebop group for tips or less (high artistic fulfillment, high technical challenge, very low financial compensation)? Yes, as long as there was time open for me to take other gigs to pay the rent. Of course, most gigs fall into the middle ground somewhere. Take playing in the symphony, for example. Let’s face it, a symphony orchestra is nothing more than a very large cover band. Depending on the group, though, you could cover a wide range of all three factors. To me, the balance between them keeps me in that world. Would I give up jazz to play symphonic music? No. Would I give up symphonic music to play jazz? Probably not (maybe if Coltrane was resurrected). It’s a constant tightrope walk that has to be weighed for each situation. Does fun ever factor in? Maybe sometimes, but in reality, the other factors reach toward something beyond mere fun, and that’s a blast!
