Wherever you go, there you were.

People.

I have been decidedly silent as of late because I sunk a lot of money into a movie about a traveling family of coats, who meet up with a vest and...it did not go good. The premise was spot on (who hasn't had a coat?) and the story was gold (vest teaches them about letting go, everyone learns something). It just didn't gain the traction we had hoped with the focus groups. Why, you aren't asking me because I can't hear you? I'll tell you why.

Nostalgia.

There was nothing for people to associate with so the backers didn't want to go full tilt with the Sanders! Money is only interested in making money. Look at this oddly chosen quote from producer Tom DeSanto of Transformers and XMen -

“The studios are so dependent on pre-existing brands, they’re not allowing anything new into the pipeline,” he said. “They want to know what was the video game or what was the comic book. It’s shortsighted. But what’s being missed is the next generation of new stuff. Because nostalgia is creative death.”

Never mind the fact that this guy just shit in his own sandbox, he has a great point. Are you noticing a lot of nostalgia based entertainment hitting your cultural windshield?

Just this morning they announced they are going to re-do Dirty Dancing. Again. The reason was blatantly put "it made $214 million." So money gets to make money. But remember when they already tried to do this?

ugh.

And then there was the explosive ratings for Nickelodeon's re-runs of their 90's line-up, ala Clarissa Explains It All. And then Star Wars Clone Wars, and then the Thundercats reboot, and then the Yogi Bear movie, and then Ghostbusters 3, and Fast and Furious 6, and then Mortal Kombat, and then your friend's shitty 80's themed party, and then The Land Before Time 52, and then the Flight of The Navigator remake, and then SpiderMan the musical, and then Spider Man the reboot, and then a Total Recall remake, and then The Crow remake, and then your friend's shitty 90's themed party, and then the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles reboot, and then the Judge Dredd reboot, and then Quisp, and then, and then, and then.

People. I know my movie about traveling coats didn't pan out, but I bet for sure you ain't ever heard of that idea before!

It takes a certain person to continue the brave and thankless work of producing works of art. It also takes a certain person to monetize and economize a thing like art and view it from only a lucrative stance. Somehow we both got thrown into the same boat, and we need one another to survive. Great shows do horrible in focus groups. Somehow, an 'original' idea gets through and smashes our notions of what we needed. What we wanted to be shown. As artists, it's our job to go out there and make something new.

But you'll say (and you won't because you're looking at a screen) What about derivative works, there is nothing new under the sun, Pygmalion, The world in six songs, there is nothing new except what has been forgotten, we live in a remix culture, together we are larger than the sum of our parts, I'll be more mature if you will, everything we learn we are only remembering, how is all this possible and you can buy a taco for $0.39?

Think of the influences of the past as trampolines not as the scalps and face-skin of dead people to wear to a costume party.

Be inspired by the world and contribute to the fabric of the here and now without the training wheels of yesteryear.

There are plenty of great original ideas out there and the tide of recycled ideas is inevitable. However, it is our duty to fight against and lambast this cultural Kevorkianism and work on our work. The more we do this, the more we put time in between us, and our eventual nostalgic pining for the styles of 2012. Remember when you read that blog about remembering about reading that blog?

The Stuyvesants -

Nice Beats. Nice Treats.

The Stuyvesants

Check out this submission in Paul Simon Love Is Eternal Sacred Light Remix Opportunity on Indaba Music

Check out this submission in Paul Simon Love Is Eternal Sacred Light Remix Opportunity on Indaba Music

The Arrival

I start my mornings much like you. My lad servant Clint awakes me by peppering my blankets with lavender and rose water, while Bagrat my Georgian chambermaid, raises the venetian blinds ¼ an inch every 15 minutes. Bagrat then chooses my clothing for the day. She usually settles on an outfit that makes me look like something in between a full-time blogger and a part-time blogger. However, there is the off chance that she’ll lean towards a professional story-teller outfit, ornamented with a wearable blanket from Taos, an ocarina and an Indian feathered headress. I trust her because she has a strong background in the forced manual labor industry and this has left her a little jumpy. I appreciate this.

Chill out Bagrat.

After I arise, my lad servant Clint dismantles my stack-of-cans-by-the-door and I enter the living room where coffee is served. I then turn on the television.

One morning, I diverted from the normative news-based programming, which without failure informs me of a fire somewhere, to the more friendly choice of watching reruns of “Heathcliff” – a TV show from the early/late 1980’s.

If you have no relation to this show you have not missed much. It’s a cartoon based off of a comic strip featuring a cat. Familiar formula. It was on TV twice, once in 1980, and again in 1984. The animation was hamfisted, the plots were full of holes, and it lived in my memory as a B-List cartoon.

The A-List cartoons were the Warner Bros./Looney Tunes cartoons. Fully realized microcosms filled with great characters, great writing, and awesome animation, these cartoons served as an introduction to many aspects of the human character; love, lust, foolishness, humor and humility. Mel Blanc provided the voices for the galaxy of characters and his delivery, timing, and malleable voice talent gave breath to the drawings and personified "The Cartoon."

So imagine my surprise when I see in the credits of my morning re-run, that Mel Blanc is the voice of Heathcliff.

I had no idea! I had been living a double life inside my own life. In my mind I had drawn a line; I had separated the "good" cartoons, from the "so-so" cartoons, and never knew the heart of one was the heart of the other. Deep.

On one hand this gave me heavy boots. I thought of Mel Blanc in the winter of his life (he died in 1989) working on a schlock show. What happened to you Mel? You had it ALL! You worked on the Jack Benny Show, you had your OWN show on CBS, you were with Warner Bros. and Hanna Barbera and you defined the golden age of cartoons. Bro.

And on the other hand I referenced the gospel of the hustle. Mel Blanc kept on working on new things right up until the end. He wasn't gonna hang his hat on the Looney Tunes, he was continuously seeking new ways to engage his art, he was the hustle and there was no half-stepping.

So....

We categorize. This is good. This is bad. This is real. This is fake. This makes sense and helps us organize our allegiances to bands, brands, faith, and faces. However it blocks out the infinitely larger side of things we choose to ignore or label as not worth our time. There could be some good information in the things we label as unimportant, so it's useful for us to cast a broader net as we ensnare, collect and try to understand the moments in our life.

We as artists feel that there will be, in the future, a time when ‘mastery’ will set in. Where we won't have to take crap gigs. A future where every time we set out to achieve an artistic goal we nail it, and get awards. A future where our minds won’t be plagued with questions concerning the structure, validity, and integrity of our work. We believe that once we “arrive” we will be able to forgo the exhaustive process of struggling to bring our dreams onto the stage of reality.

The significant point in the story of Mel Blanc is that the life of an artist never "arrives." Our golden train of milk and honey and paychecks never fully stops. It might allow us to grab the rail and ride a while, but this is a train only to be ridden in the figurative sense. The real reward from working on a craft is the opportunity to familiarize yourself with the feeling of creation. And to continuously put in front of you new challenges that help you experience that feeling in new and novel ways. All the way until the end.

When asked which of his compositions he loved the most, an elderly Duke Ellington replied, "I haven't written it yet."

There is no "arrival." We keep on being the best we can be and focus on the 'here and now', because that's the only time we ever get to experience.

In My Own World

Yesterday I found myself in the book store, and I was perusing the self-help/music section. This is the section where you find books like...

"What To Look At While Someone Takes A Solo"
"10 Steps To Writing Songs That Aren't About Your Tired Ass Life"
"The Chordal Koran; Music for your next Jihad"
or
"Music: The Highway to Homelessness"

Other books biographically dismantled musical heroes to show their soft inner shell, others painted the tortured soul engaged in mid-air combat with creative demons. Most books aimed to help musicians ditch self-consciousness and get back to the heart of music making. Which got me thinking; why do something that necessitates books like this? Why do something that makes you doubt yourself? Art is hard on your person. Which in turn made me say; but only as hard as you make it.

Which brings me to True Grit.

True Grit left me feeling electrified. Something was rattling and humming inside of me after I left the theater. It's as if I saw a declamatory statement on screen, not a suggestion of what a movie should be, or an appropriation of the ingredients of a good story reconstituted in the form of a movie. A real piece of work. The Coen Bros. excel at making movies "their" way. This is not to say they're doing something groundbreaking, it's just that they have found a way to do something different with cliche.

What happens when music, film, dance, art leaves you with this "electricity?" These meaningful events are packed with the energy of the people who created them. The more they drop true inspiration into the product (rather than second guessing, bowing to outside influences, trying to sound like something they're not) the more it glows with the fire of creation, the more it affects us.

So I say, live in your own world. Populate your inner world with the monuments of forward motion and determination. Fill the skyline with the architecture of inspiration drawn from sources within, as well as drawn from outside influences. Challenge your own thoughts to ensure you're not building on a swamp. Constantly build and make it the most dynamic and amazing world no one else will ever see!

Long=Short - People are gonna hate. People are gonna love. More than likely, people are gonna not give a shit. So the answer is, Do it!

You wanna write a song about making love to a shark? Do it!

You wanna hang a piece of wire on a nail and call it "Disillusionment 7"? Do it!

You feel the need to make a movie about a family of traveling coats that meet a vest and that just turns their whole world upside down? Do it!

You never get heard if you never make a noise. So be proud and live in your own world, drink your own kool-aid, and believe in yourself - the rest will fall where it will.