Poetry and Me

Guess what kind of musicians I find myself attracted to. Soloists who, for whatever reason, share a lot of the same struggles as yours truly. The world is full of struggling artists trying to find the way. I admire their talents and share the struggle. Fuck if I can claim I know any of them personally. I can’t. I don’t. So due disclosures, there might be some projection on my part.

There is an initial want for the art or product to be bigger than it really is. To do more than it can. “World changing” or “ground breaking” and other underpinnings of lofty reasoning are what motivate. Then there is a reality to contend with. Real deal things like bills, family, basics of survival. All of which cut into an artists time to perfect their craft. Suddenly, compromises need to be made. Sometimes those compromises are made in craft, sometimes in soul.

No matter how fine the work, diminishing returns are a part of the reality. Any artist can tell you the story of the project they spent hours-upon-hours on that flopped and the throw-away project that took minutes that became a success. Turns out, there are larger factors that decide a works’ adoption and acceptance. Sometimes it’s audience, sometimes it’s timing, sometimes sheer luck, among the deciding factors.

Tips and tells abound in artists and what their art really is. Things like lyrics that state lofty ideals. Or progressive messages. Advertising where the person is uncomfortable. Really, people can tell which artist is better at playing guitar versus which artist is better at playing a celebrity. Stranger still, both art forms are valid.

Mind you, I’m not at all about pissing on efforts or mindsets. No gatekeeping. I’m simply trying to make sense of it all and my place in it. I’m relating to the artist I perceive as most like me and, if I’m right, understanding that artwork on a deeper level.

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