When Good is not Great Enough

 Not always, but often enough, I get thin on the topic of narrative.  Not the identity type of narrative where I tell myself and others a story about who I am and all of that weaving together under the umbrella of Temporal, Causal and thematic coherence sort of structure psychologist like to deem as necessary for a healthy personal identity; no, none of that psycho-babble for me today.  The narrative I speak of is topicality; what’s worth my addressing in the world of me.

  Yes, don’t fool yourself, all of us are measuring and adjusting our course in the ‘world out there’ according to a well versed idea of how to serve the objective of ‘it’s all about me.’ Today anyway.

  When I hit these bumps in the creative road I play my guitar and sing favorite tunes.  Some of them I wrote myself, some are just those songs that I’ve mastered well enough to enjoy listening to me sing.  After fifty years of playing the guitar I have developed a smooth natural ability to improvise and fill in the song without background voices or other instrumentation.  If you’ve ever been to a coffee house and listened to really good blues, you’ll know what I’m talking about; In short, it’s art.  And I like art in all forms, but I’m partial to being in the thrill of creating it.  And that is where this theme is launched. 

  I use to dream of being a troubadour. My life plan, after leaving the Army, was to wander America playing folk music during the sunny weather, and then returning home during the winter season and write.  It was a dream, to be sure.  I learned an important lesson about the dynamics of life in America and art. 

  Art, and I mean all forms of art, have become a servant to entertainment; and that’s a pretty way of saying slave to profit.  Entertainment is a business; and like all business, the purpose is to make money. When music, at large, is captured by the Entertainment Umbrella, well it gets changed.  Not just what is necessary to make it ‘entertaining’ to the awe-jaded-public, but also the process of competition for those who wish to be paid Artist.  

In the Entertainment world, good isn’t great enough.  It has to dazzle; it has to be multifaceted; it has to mesmerize the audience.

   No longer can a good singer find sustainable work merely by a singular talent. They have to dance, and be physically appealing (of course unless you’re unusually odd looking then that can be an asset as well.)  But also today I noticed, the artist needs a personal gimmick to enhance an entertainer’s worth; to woo sympathy with a personal tale, a sad story.  A brave perseverance over woe; an ailing family member; a debilitating addiction or injury overcome in the nick of time in order to provide the presented public a monumental very best of them; the heroic effort; a tribute to satisfy an unsasiated appetite for something different.  And what better way to get into their heart’s living room than a sob story? 

Not to say that the artist isn’t talented, no, there’s no lack of talent in the world and that lesson had to be driven home into my naïve artist heart early on.  Starving for you art is just starving.  Doing nothing in order to be ready to step into your destiny is just plain foolish and advertises to anyone who’s been around that you’re an armature.  Still, the notice that being good isn’t great enough to do it for a living remains sad; because if you’re not willing to sacrifice everything to be famous, then you’re not ready for the gift of celebrity; then it’s welcome to your nightmare.  I like playing my guitar, and I like singing for others; but I’m not going to sacrifice myself on any entertainment alter to be heard.  Somewhere along the way I found my dignity and finding it liberated me from the need for recognition by strangers; a meaningless gesture of worthiness and at any cost I somehow was taught to pursue.  Yes, sometimes you wake up one day and you’re a grown up:

Just like that.