It Is Time to Let Go.
As I write this, it's 1:43am and I'm running on about 4 hours of cumulative sleep between yesterday and the day before. I've gotten used to sleep deprivation at this point, so much so that at times I feel more creative in the wee hours than at any other point during the day. Maybe it's because it's quiet outside? Perhaps my mind finds it easier to shut up when it isn't bombarded by a dozen external stimuli all clamouring for an ounce of my attention. Whatever it may be, right now I feel pensive and in the mood to write.
Sidetracking from my incumbent insomnia, the real reason I am up so late is because I have come to the shocking (and yet not-so-shocking) realisation that I'm making music & art for all the wrong reasons. You're probably thinking to yourself - "that's kind of a weird epiphany to have given you just realised your 'Artist Debut' (Click here for that blog), isn't it?". The truth is that, since I published 'The Last Song', I have had zero, and I mean zero, interest or motivation to work on my music.
In fact, if anything, I've felt numb and generally unwilling to sit in front of my computer and pen down my ideas. Even writing this makes a part of me want to groan, and until now I didn't realise why. Without fluffing about, the reason for this weird state of disinterest has to do with one simple decision I made once upon a time ago - making music my career (or a part of it, at least). Let me explain.
Like I said, this is not really a revelation. It's common parlance that, for commercial artists, creativity and financial stability often contest with one another for dominance. However, when you factor in that I've felt this growing disinterest for the better part of four years, and that I have increasingly completed and published fewer songs over the years, it all starts to add up a bit.
Those who know me know that I am very critical of my own work. I've always felt the need to prove myself through my artistic endeavours, and this sentiment has only grown the older I've gotten. It hit its peak during the COVID pandemic, where the only visible success and momentum I could experience was through creating art. It got to a point where the sole purpose of creating things became virality, and that started to mess with my head.
It goes without saying that self-criticism and perfectionism go hand-in-hand. Although, this was never a "problem" for me because success was never too big of a variable in the equation. Perfecting my art was a goal that drove me to experiment and I think it reflects well in my early music-making days. However, the moment I put on my career hat, by definition, success - i.e. - "making it" in the industry slowly became the requirement. I mean, if there's no attention on you, how do you make money? How do you justify being a "commercial artist"?
This mindset shift is what I realised is the crux of the issue. I'm in a very different place than I was when I started thinking about being a professional musician. I'm fortunate (for now; in this job market) to have a job that pays bills and affords me some free time to spend on my interests. There's no dependency on music to keep me alive and healthy. What remains is only passion, and, by consequence, a lifetime to make all the stupid, crazy, amazing, and god knows what else, music and art I possibly can.
This is where things get a bit complicated. I've gotten so used to creating music for commercial success that I don't know how to just make things to satiate a creative itch, or share a story, or simply pass the time. The notion is so alien to me that, for the last two weeks, I've spent more of my free time staring up at my ceiling than picking up my bass, opening my DAW, or even singing. Without the threat of failure and competition, or the promise of reward and attention, I don't know how to create.
To be clear, I still love music and fully intend to make and publish all kinds of art. However, without my usual routine and my constant effort to be "productive", when and if I complete my next musical work is at the moment, a big question mark. What I do know is that my best work is made when my creativity is "unbound and unrestricted" (~ Muse, 2004). I should be able to spend irrational amounts of time and money and energy and never have to justify any of it. It's gotta be unfiltered, and come from a place of genuine passion. At the moment, I just don't know how to actualise that.
I'd wager that there is a possibility I might earn some money from my art someday. Even if that happens, I don't want to ever go into a project with the expectation of reward or recognition. Who knows, though? Anything is possible:)
Till Next time, Adi:)