ever since i signed my walking papers and left the army, i’ve dreamed of working independently. for a long time, i dreamed of being a musician, earning my way around the world one performance at a time. that never really worked out for me. part of it was because even though i have a unique style, and i am not terrible at music, i’m really just not that good. you know, like that that good. pitch perfect type shit. and the truth is, even if i am good enough, i never really pursued it commercially at the level that was necessary in order to find success.
just the other day, i surprised myself by telling my wife that i wish i had discovered photography in my early twenties. maybe if i has pursued the path of the lens instead of throwing myself at the wall as a musician for all those years, i would have my own studio right now. but then again, i never would have met her, and i wouldn’t have had so many of the amazing experiences in life that inform and inspire my art today.
just the other day, we attended a benefit gala in brooklyn, and at the event, there were two singer-songwriters who performed. the first was a female artist. mid-20s, appreciably beautiful, and with a crass attitude that didn’t quite match her gala gown. she said that she left her job in social work a couple of years ago to pursue music full-time. during her introduction, she was said to have written songs that were featured in a netflix series and a bollywood movie or something to that effect, so she was obviously not doing all that bad for herself in the grand scheme.
the next performer was a mid-20s male artist who was wearing some gaudy but well-tailored plaid pants. pants only fit for celebrities and stages. pants that are memorable long after the wearer has been forgotten, a point i can attest to because they were the only physical feature about this young man that i can recall. i guess that means they did their job. this gentleman, however, didn’t have a job. he also left the workforce in order to pursue music full-time.
the female artist’s performance began with her strumming an out-of-tune electric guitar before she opened her mouth and angels poured out. she had an absolutely stunning voice and it was clear she was a true talent. she performed a rendition of chandelier that stole the breath out of me and put me into emotional regulation mode. can’t be tearing up in public over a fucking song, dude. not cool.
when the male artist performed, it felt very...open mic. like he was good, but he should not have followed that girl. he was audibly nervous, rushing his way through the first song until he reached a part that switched from english to hindi and his actual talent came out. for three short bars, this guy was a star. unfortunately, the rest of his set was less than inspiring.
i’m not here to talk shit or rain on anyone’s parade. i wish both of these individuals nothing but success, and could tell from the talents they displayed that if they apply the right levels of focus and discipline to their craft, they could really make a career of it if that’s what they want to do by the time they get to the point that it’s an actual choice.
but seeing them up there got me to thinking. when i was in my mid-20s, i was convinced that there was no other path for me than a career in music. i applied myself to it so forcefully and was so adamant that even when people tried to tell me that i wasn’t good enough to make it to the top no matter what pants i wore , i wouldn’t listen. that’s not to say i haven’t written some bangers. i’m proud of what i accomplished in my songwriting, and i’ll never regret the time i spent chasing that dream.
as i write this now, i am falling off the cliff of my mid-30s, beginning the downward descent into oldness. and a part of me longs for the days when i could just walk away from it all. i’d love to just put in my notice and go full bore into the pursuit of a photography career. and i might just do that. but the experience of age has taught me that even if i do choose that path, there is a responsible approach to it that i must take in order for it to work.
so here i sit on a crowded morning train, ten years too old and surrounded by angry commuters with a bad case of the tuesday blues .