When I get together with musician buddies, we don’t congratulate each other on our successes. That kinda thing almost immediately devolves into “cool man” cliche, and they're boring stories anyway. 100% of the time, we reminisce on all the lunatic bullshit we’ve persevered through (bro, remember that time I form-tackled a trust fund kid in a bear costume at Coachella?). I mean, I’ve looked like a fucking muppet on national television multiple times. Would you rather hear about that, or how I felt calm and composed opening up for see I’m already boring you.
The key’s being vulnerable enough to let what we artists do become hilarious, and embracing that vulnerability as the greatest strength in our possession. If you’re able to look at yourself in the mirror and go you know, I don’t have any idea what the fuck’s going on but I’m gonna brush my teeth and try my best anyway, you’re bulletproof. Better yet, share that sentiment with whatever community resonates. When we don’t share, the result’s figuring shit out on our own, in the bouncy castle of jubilance and whimsy that is an artist’s echo chamber. It’s seldom a cornucopia of delights, folks. We’re all in this together and, spoiler alert, no one knows what’s going on - not me, not the middle-aged industry dude rocking hair plugs and chucks, and certainly not the table of beautiful people discussing arbitrary social media metrics. Personally, I find that comforting.
Honesty has a way of coalescing our myriad of self-doubts, quirks and misnomered “problems” into healing beacons of light that guide our way down the path.