In retrospect, Johnny may have been a prophet.
I went to college with this Korean kid who, for reasons too
deep and mysterious to get into, insisted on pretending he had just learned
English. Johnny lived in the U.S. most of his life, attended public schools for
years, and – rumor had it – could wax downright eloquent when he was too
exhausted or emotionally distraught to pretend not to know English any more.
Yeah – being tired made him act smarter.
But the rest of the time, Johnny played a caricature of himself. He was the
fresh-faced exchange student, absurdly innocent and absolutely clueless,
roaming the halls of our college dorm with his head cocked to one side and
asking questions of us all in broken English.
Johnny’s favorite question was the simplest. Once or twice a
week, he’d ramble up to someone – usually someone he already knew – and squint
in exaggerated consternation.
“Excuse me,” he’d say. “Who are you?”
That Johnny never seemed to ask that riddle of himself – or,
if he did, to find the answer – makes me kind of sad in retrospect. But I can’t
be too tough on him. The question’s hard. I ask it of myself, too, over and
over again – especially, I think, in January. The end of the holidays seems
like a good time to recalibrate, to set some goals and ask myself what I’d like
to see happen in the months ahead. But that’s a dangerous pursuit – my “what” turns
into “why,” and then back into “who”:
What are my goals? What will I do this year?
Wait – Why would I want to do that? Why’s it matter? What’s
the point?
Wait – why does anything
that I do matter? What’s the point of me?
Who am I?
And poof! Prophet Johnny’s back to ask that question among
questions, waxing ignorant again, stirring up trouble from his soapbox in my
psyche.
If you find yourself wondering about the biggies, too,
congratulations – you’ve probably got some great art in you somewhere. Creating
and experiencing music – or, for that matter, theater or sculpture or great
food – give us another language for asking and answering those questions. You’re
not going to scratch the existential itch by reorganizing your sock drawer,
though – so if you don’t speak art, find a piano teacher or get in a photo
class quick as you can.
Do one more thing, too – join us. Businesses aren’t nearly as
big as human lives, and it’s taking me less time to discover what this business
is about than to decide who I am as a person. This business, Backthird Audio,
is an “us” – it’s a means for people who love music to serve and push against
each other, to ask big questions and swap answers, to help and grow and hopefully
do things better and make things prettier. The long-term vision’s online here
and here.
It’s a long, slow dream. Right now it’s tiny. But I like it.
If you like it too, then join us. This year, one of the
studio’s “whats” – one of the things I want to do – is to host regular
get-togethers for people who love music. I want us to network, learn, swap
ideas and songs and stories, eat, drink and maybe even play. I want to find out
who we are, and why we’re doing music, and how we can do it better. It’s
something I’ve wanted to do for a long time. Now it’s time.
So join us. Mark your calendar for Monday, January 21 – the
night I hope can be the first time for a bunch of us to all get in a room
together. I’ll send out the details soon, so watch your inboxes. I’ll see you
then.
Monday marked the kickoff of what I'm calling The Guild - the convention of a mess of local musicians, engineers and anyone else who "does" music. Past and future Backthird recording artists scarfed drinks and crackers alongside a representative from the City of Aurora, Chuck Berry's former bass player, half of a kind-of-jam band and the composer of songs about zombies and birth control. As someone put it to me later in the evening, "it's just good to be around people who don't think you're crazy."
when: 7:30pm Monday, January 21
