Good listening requires a certain awareness that isn’t possible when your mind’s divided between tasks. Stop doing other shit and listen closely.

Scram – Come On (Empire Mix)

People also like songs. We’ve been making them and listening to them for just as long.

The two art forms are, I submit, structurally identical. Great stories and great songs (and any art form that follows a linear start-to-finish flow) both deal with the proper escalation and release of tension.

It’s not surprising that words we use to describe the plot of a story—beginning, conflict, resolution, end—have near-perfect partners in words we use to describe the flow of a song—intro, buildup, breakdown, outro.

We’ve all read books and seen movies that make us think, “When the fuck is something going to happen?” And we’ve all heard muzak that feels flat and uninspired. The root cause of the boredom is identical: no build up, no release.

The rules are pretty simple: build it up, then break it down.

Good luck.

Sultans of Swing – Move It To The Left (Rise Mix)

We’ve all got good ideas. All of us. All the time.

But few actually execute any of these good ideas. We keep talking about the book we’ll write or the company we’ll found, yet keep finding excuses to put these things off. We talk and talk and talk about how tomorrow or next week or next year we’re gonna hunker down and get to work. Most of us.





The world’s creative leaders aren’t necessarily the people with the best ideas. They’re simply the ones who turn ideas into finished products. Creativity requires action.

Writers write.
Painters paint.
Singers sing.

Stop talking about that awesome thing you’re going to make. Go make it.

Electric Lush (Original Mix)

If you want to be a successful musician, you’ve got to take risks. No guitarist ever blew up by being derivative; no cover band ever topped the charts. But once you’re successful, risk-taking is also the best way to screw yourself over and ruin your career.

Taking risks is easy (and necessary) when you’re a nobody with no record deal and no money and no fans and no mortgage and no kids. But once you “make it,” there’s so much at stake that it sorta makes sense to not take risks. Because if you’re at the top, the only place you can go is down.

Suppose, for example, you’re an unkown musician who wants to bring a dog on stage during a performance. (I know it’s a silly example, but stick with me.) If you’re playing to a single-digit crowd in a poorly-lit, badly-ventilated stage in the middle of Cleveland, you’ll be able to pull off the dog-on-stage thing no sweat; just call your friend who owns a dog and tell her to swing by at 8 and you’ll get her some free beer.

But if you’re famous, the whole dog-on-stage thing is a logistical nightmare. You need to find the right dog and make sure it’s properly trained by some obedience expert (your label/manager is still uneasy about the whole idea). And you’ll need insurance too, in case the dog jumps off the stage and bites a quick-to-litigate spectator. Oh, and don’t forget to give PETA a heads and make sure they’re OK with it, lest the whole event turn into some PR nightmare. Then maybe put some flyers around the venue explaining that yes, there will be a dog on stage, and if you’re allergic to dogs here’s who to contact about a refund. Ugh. All of a sudden something as simple as bringing a dog on stage turns into one enormous hassle. You’ll probably just say “forget it” and nix the idea altogether.

But risk-taking doesn’t just get harder and more complicated with success. It also gets, well, riskier. Because with success comes a new mentality of “don’t mess this up.” You realize you’ve been pigeonholed as, say, a punk band, and that people like you because you’re a punk band. So if you want to start playing polka your fans will feel alienated and angry and cheated. (“False advertising, man! Play your old stuff!” yells someone in the front.) Now you feel like you’re stuck doing whatever you started doing, whenever you started doing it. Which totally sucks. Because your fans are in the creative driver’s seat, so to speak, and you’re trying to please other people.

That explains why a lot of musicians eventually turn into weird parodies/imitations of themselves and release the same album every 1-5 years (or maybe take tiny steps in a new direction but never stray so far as to actually risk upsetting any old/current fans). I get it; but I’d still rather see my favorite musician try something new and fail than do the same stuff from two years ago. The old album isn’t going away.

So here’s my advice to any aspiring musicians: once you get to the top, don’t forget how you got there. Take chances. Risk pissing people off. You don’t owe your fans anything. And if you’re not gonna do something new, don’t do anything at all. There’s something really ugly and profoundly sad about a musician who does the same stuff over and over.

Rockstars don’t sell out; they bitch out.

Broken Bells – Meyrin Fields (Sub Swara Remix)

Gutenberg never wrote a novel. He didn’t write much at all, really. But he developed technology (the printing press) that let others become novelists. New media develop over time; it’s refreshing that creativity is inherently part of economic/technical progress.

The above paragraph is neither anti- nor pro-capitalism, but it’s maybe worth noting that most modern inventions come from companies rather than individuals. It’s anecdotally true (how many people do you know who’ve invented something? how many companies do you know that haven’t?) and statistically true (the majority of patents are given to corporations rather than people). It’s like we’ve just gone over some weird metaphysical complexity hump, the other side of which renders individual invention impossible. Adobe, Rane, Apple, Moog, Akai, Sony, Avid—these companies build software and products that are so rich, intricate and powerful that a person literally couldn’t make them alone.

So maybe there is, in some sense, a weird trickle-down pro-creativity effect of capitalism. The end goal of a capitalist society might be maximized profit, but the citizenry gets some cool synthesizers and paint along the way. Half-assed economics aside, my feelings on the matter are a lot simpler: it’s nice that other people make things that let me make things.

Big Crunch Theory – Arrows (Juan McLean Remix) UhOhDisco.com

Every published book is the result of multiple drafts, line edits and revision. Every feature film takes a dozen script revisions, three months of shooting and six weeks of editing. Every song on the radio took half a year to write, record, mix and master. That’s kinda how creativity works: a crumpled bedsheet of an idea is ironed over and over until the final product appears, perfectly flat and unwrinkled. And the process takes a while.

But a lot of producers today don’t take enough time to actually produce. My inbox is stuffed with MP3s that sound like works in progress because they are works in progress. Musicians are so eager to get their music out that they rush the creative process. I hear a lot of songs that make me think “this could be really good if he/she spent another week working on it.” It’s not that the songs are bad; they’re just unfinished.

Chuck Close once said, “you’re only responsible for the work you go public with.” His words apply to any creative medium: keep working on something until it’s finished. Take your time to get it right. You’ll find a polished final product worth the work; your audience will find your music worth the wait.

Temabes – Love Me

It’s easy to criticize. Really, really easy. Everybody does it. People are inherently opinionated; we all have varied likes and dislikes. We disagree about who’s talented and who isn’t, which candy tastes the best and which painting is the most beautiful.

It’s hard to create. Really, really hard. Few people do it; fewer do it publicly. Because it’s not just the act of creation that’s particularly difficult. What’s harder is mustering up the guts to share that creation with the world. Anyone who creates anything– good or bad– and shares it with others deserves credit for having the bravery to face criticism.

We trust critics to discern whether or not a movie is worth our $12 or whether we should spend an hour listening to an album. But without filmmakers and musicians and artists and writers there wouldn’t be anything to criticize. Life would be empty, boring and depressing. The world doesn’t need criticism. It needs creativity. So go pour your soul into making something beautiful and then ask the world to judge you. Be brave.

Criticizing is cowardly; creating is courageous.

Southern Shores – Grande Comore

Southern Shores – Mauna Loa

I don’t watch unstructured television—the zombie-like sit-and-flip-though-channels activity that all parents say will rot the brain into a lifeless gray goo. I don’t do it. At least, I try not to do it very often.

It’s not because I’m “better than” television. Yes, I own a TV. And I hate when people talk about television as a pithy little box that unenlightened folks use for entertainment. I love T.V. more than anyone I know. That’s the problem: once I start watching, it’s really hard for me to stop.

Here’s what happens: I’ll enter into a channel-surfing loop wherein I’m constantly looking for something better to watch. I just keep changing the channel. But since I don’t really know what I’m looking for, I’m never satisfied with what I’m watching. Hours later I’ll realize that I’ve been watching T.V. for way too long and haven’t found anything good. It’s been a series of half-episodes and partial narratives. A big waste of time. Fuck, man.

I’ve recently felt the same way about my endless search for awesome new music. I used to get that special I-just-discovered-music-I-love!-Woo-hoo! feeling all the time. I haven’t felt it in months. I just want to hear something that excites me (doesn’t everyone?), but I don’t really know what I’m looking for. The aimless hunt usually makes me feel like I just wasted my afternoon.

But that’s the nature of art. The really good stuff surprises us. Of course I don’t know exactly what I want, because what I really want is something I’ve never seen/heard/read/watched before. That’s how creative progress happens. Nobody wanted to buy a series of silkscreened Campbell’s Soup cans until Warhol actually made them. Nobody wanted to hear a turntable scratching until he first heard someone do it and realized, “yeah, that does sounds really good.” Great artists take chances and create things that we’ve never seen before. People don’t know what they want until you give it to them.

Now someone send me something amazing. (Somebody besides Casino Gold, that is.)

Casino Gold – All My Friends Wear Suits (Original Mix)

Will Bailey – Chip Shop (Casino Gold Remix)

I like fun music that makes me feel better rather than worse; music that makes me happier rather than sadder; music that makes me want to dance rather than sit and sulk. Sad music has it’s place every once in a while. But most of the time I want happy stuff. I think that that’s why I listen to so much electro– it’s a fun genre. Nobody singing about romances gone awry or rapping about the poverty problem in Detroit. Nothing but interesting sounds, funky basslines and glitchy drumbeats.

So if the listeners are having fun, the music makers must be having a good time, too, right? Err, sometimes. You can tell there are some musicians (electronic and otherwise) who don’t enjoy making music. It’s evident in the way they interview or how they act on stage. It’s usually the more famous musicians who seem unhappy. So maybe it’s not that these people don’t enjoy creating/performing music per se. They’re probably just annoyed with all that music industry bullshit– distribution deals and royalty/management fees and suit-and-tie executives flashing calculated orders about what to do/say/think. Being a famous musician is fiscally fantastic but creatively frustrating: there are a lot of people depending on you/your music. You’ll probably feel pressure to do certain things. You’ll sometimes feel like you’ve lost sight of whatever it was that drove you to make music in the first place.

But I really can’t sympathize. Because if you’re making money by making music, you’re pretty damn lucky. So enjoy it. Or at least pretend like you do. So stop taking everything so seriously and have a good time. There are about a million people who would trade places with you in a heartbeat. You’re living the dream. Act like it.

Baxen – Freya