The Bitter Pill

I am a product of our modern environment. But I’m also imbued with some scattershot wisdom at having survived on this planet longer than some. As our numbers grow, and with global corporations not so slowly shaping our lives, and especially our creative lives, some disturbing items have made themselves apparent to me that I feel need voicing.
Nothing left to do except climb on top of my soapbox and go to ranting, so here goes...
Part of my growth in this new day, this new age of information saturation, has come with the realization that, as my father used to put it, there aren’t enough hours in the day; a statement I once found simply incredible as when in the gestation of youth days were without end, weekends a veritable eternity. But, as Dylan so succinctly put it many years ago, the times they are a changing, and I’ve certainly taken notice of how his ubiquitous axiom is now affecting me
With the immediacy of finding just about anything on the Internet has me reading four different newspapers every morning to keep informed on what degrees of lunacy humanity has recently sunk as I’m greatly concerned of the misdirection we seem to have fallen prey. Then I tackle the reading of a daily sackload of e-mail, of which I try to dutifully respond to any I feel worthy a response, and I’m not one for simple one word or one sentence responses, either -oh no! so be careful when writing to me, you might get more than you bargained for. And if you’re thinking of writing me a letter than includes a, “What’s up?”, only, if that’s the best you can do... DON”T, or prepare to face the wrath of. Then I have to make time to care for my two children, my two dogs, as it were, one of whom is now crippled. Apartment living doesn’t provide the most ideal of places from which they can live life to the fullest, so I find time to take them to the park, go swimming, ride in the truck with me, go with me to work when that’s possible. Caring for these two is time well spent, my relationship with them fulfilling like no other, so turnabout is fair play. I must also find time to prepare something to eat as I’m a single guy and I tend to cook better than most places in town, not to mention, with gasoline prices going through the roof courtesy of our force fed fossil fuel addiction I keep costs down as best I can by cooking my own meals, staying off the roads and out of my truck as much as possible. Then there’s cleaning house and washing clothes, too, a thankless job that is never done. Somewhere I find time to devote to writing, get in my prerequisite number of pages per day. I’m also a dedicated musician and music producer so there are always gigs and rehearsals, studio time, too, which eat up massive chunks of time. I’ve also been building a business for the better part of three years which requires constant involvement, many hours a day spent. Then there is the basic, niggling upkeep for technological shit that keeps breaking down, errands that need tending to, which has you summarily dashing all over town in a frenzy to keep everything functioning just to keep up with the daily onslaught.
Simply put, NO rest for the driven!
And I’ve seen what procrastination will do to a person, eventually rendering them incapable of moving forward with any parts of their lives as the mountain of unfinished tasks resides on their doorstep, a mountain which appears to be immovable and impassable. To those I say, how do you move a mountain? One stone at a time. Conquering each problem as it occurs requires meeting it head-on with diligence and fortitude as there is more shit right around the corner which will require even more of your time and trouble. Better to deal with it as it occurs, methinks, get it out of the way, greet the next batch with bloodied knuckles, a sense of accomplishment, and a bring it the fuck on!.
All this activity leaves very little time for the gadabout, the social butterfly. I just don’t have the time anymore. And as a driven entity, I cannot, in good conscience, waste any parts of any day. Now bear in mind, an hour or two spent underneath a shade tree watching clouds go by isn’t necessarily a waste of time. Clearing the calendar to make the time to flush the mind in such a pursuit is a rarefied delicacy, and I find the commune with nature to be one of the most important aspects of my modern life, so I make time when I can. Routinely though, I wake up and leap on the back of the day, digging in my spurs just to stay on top of all the items that constitute my life. And it ain’t easy...
The absolute singular galling experience which has plagued my life for the last couple of years is when you finally do bite the bullet and take time off for a little escapist entertainment, and in turn you get broadsided by a “The End” flashing across the big screen which makes your blood start to boil, an inner mounting rage building to a crescendo you didn’t get from the movie, all over the fact that two whole hours of your life were just wasted due to a movie without a reasonable, viable story line, and even more ridiculous, a non ending which got tacked on just to mercifully end the damn thing! Two whole hours are now gone which you can never replace, or get back!
I mean, how much trouble does it take to simply tell a good story with a decent ending? As far as Hollywood goes it seems to be a huge problem, a disease which seems to get worse rather than better. But hey, you’ll get all the whizbang effects; incredible computer gimmickry, fantastic stunts, explosions, weaponry, outrageous costumes, otherworldly make-up, gore galore, and titillation to the nth degree. They spend millions of dollars, years in the making, and all this time, energy, manpower, and money seems to be spent on nothing but the movie’s accouterment. What is Hollywood forgetting? Bill Clinton said it best about our country’s state of affairs, “It’s the economy, stupid!” I’ve said for years, watching the music industry sell themselves down dumbass river, “It’s the song, stupid!” Well, to Hollywood, wondering why attendance is down, wondering why people are finding solace in alternate brands of entertainment, it is this, “It’s the story, stupid!”
Folks, I know firsthand all the pitfalls and difficulties there are to making a movie, and it really is a miracle any of them get made at all considering. So, since you go to all that trouble to make the movie, have a writer, of which there are some great ones available if you take the time to find them, provide the script with a good ending... AT THE FUCKING LEAST! If not, go straight to the video section of Wal Mart and spare us the indignity, the humiliation, the ponderous wailing and gnashing of teeth all the while screaming for your blood!
There is also another... ahem... growing problem of which I harbor strong feelings. And when I say “growing”, I mean just that, in that there are just too many untalented people who are polluting the creative pool these days which directly leads to the problem of which I just mentioned. Easy access to money and technology, combined with people who are desperate for something, be it fame, fortune, who knows, are bringing the entertainment bar down to a level that is unacceptable. The entertainment industry is polluted beyond belief with a plethora of mediocre talent, and that is being diplomatic about it. And with the bandwidth getting smaller by the day to get anyone’s attention in this media saturated environment, we are simply clogged up with a whole bunch of so-so horseshit that prevents the real talents from reaching a wider acceptance, if anything at all.
In this corporate dominated day and age you only have one shot to make it happen. One record flop, you’re done. One movie that gets ignored on opening weekend, next! Which is why indie records and indie films are experiencing such a strong surge in popularity. The public is screaming for something meaningful and tangible that they can devour, absorb, and feel a part of to take their minds off the banality of their debt driven existence, and the corporations aren’t providing it. You don’t believe me? Check the dwindling numbers. Check the mountain of mediocrity we’re force fed.
In this super glut we’re now experiencing, how do you find the real true talent? Almost impossible. I mean, do you have the weeks, the months it would take to go through the millions of offerings on i-Tunes to find that new band that has the shit, what it takes to be an important musical entity? I rather doubt it. And like I mentioned, who has the money, much less the time, to see the super glut of movies which now regularly clog the cinematic landscape to find that movie which makes a difference?
Just recently, Morrisey was in town (not one of my favorites, matter of fact, hate his music, but did love his honesty, his bravery), speaking on one of the SXSW music panels, and he, too, said what I felt for some time now, something that needs to be screamed from the mountaintops. He said, and I’m paraphrasing him, “There needs to be a lot fewer... uh... musicians”. And I think he’s given them more credit than they deserve, as most of them aren’t musicians at all, just parasitical copycats who don’t have an original bone in their body.
I’ll take it a step further and say to all the hack musicians and the hack filmmakers, unless you got the gift, unless you have something unique and original to say, go find something else you can be good at and be of service to mankind through any other means possible! We have more than enough twits who are seemingly content to plagiarize all the brave souls who risked all they had to make a new and important voice. So I say to them... Clear the air! Clear the playing field! Create some room so true talent can find its way to the public’s ears, eyes, mind, soul, heart, and imaginations!
As a drummer, there was a period in the early 80’s when a man named Roger Linn invented a drum machine. I remember hundreds and thousands of so-called drummers in a complete state of panic, worried they’d lose their gigs. And you know what? They did! But I was happy, because it was like a purifying genocide of a bunch of cats who shouldn’t have ever picked up the sticks anyway, and it did clear the air somewhat for those who did have talent to be noticed once they were distinguished from the claustrophobic sea of utter mundanity.
And I feel this creative genocide should apply in all the other arts, too.
There isn’t supposed to be hundreds of copycat Princes’, or Peter Gabriels’, or Trent Reznors’, or Bjorks’, or Tom Waits’, or Miles Davis’, or Jimi Hendrix’ or Akiro Kurosawas’, or Werner Herzogs’, or Joel and Ethan Coens’, or Mike Nichols’, or Frederico Fellinis’, or Stanley Kubricks’, or Hunter S. Thompsons’, or Raymond Carvers’, or William Burroughs’, or Charles Bukowskis’, or Henry Millers’, or Gabriel Garcia Marquez’, or Lenny Bruces’, or Richard Pryors’, or Sam Kinnisons’, or Robin Williams’, or Whoopi Godlbergs’, or Salvador Dalis’, or Vincent Van Goghs’, or Picassos’, or Andy Warhols’... you know what I’m driving at. Once someone has made that sort of bold and original statement, let them occupy that space, let their brave originality inspire you, but be courageous enough to create your own original voice courtesy of the inspiration you received from their visionary talents. It’s the way it’s always been. But that is the problem that plagues the arts today, something becomes popular because of its singular vision and there will emerge a thousand copycats who do nothing but muddy the water for everyone else, and the corporations will champion them as the next new thing because they don’t know what is original and what’s not, beholden to nothing but the bottom line as they are, and then the public buys into the lie but wonders why they are not satisfied; a vicious cycle that grows more onerous by the day...
Having existed in the creative field all my life, I can honestly say that yes, it does take time to find your voice, but do so behind the scenes, and be your harshest critic as you do. And trust me, you know early on if you have it or not, if you are compelled or not, and if you are, strive on with diligence, find your way, but if not, you should be doing something that really contributes to the betterment of mankind, and lord knows, we need all the help there we can get.
Anything less? Get the fuck outta the way. Stop half-assing, wasting my time and others. Harsh, I know, but that’s just the way I feel.
Call my ass the creative field’s Drano, the little solution that could.
Ungowa!
And I mean it.