On Being Great

Blonde Redhead is amazing. The show last night at Terminal 5 was a life lesson quickly learned, concentrated by the experience en masse. I was profoundly affected by the performance, the focus on the moment and the gracious nonchalance towards the audience.

I am left with alot of thoughts about artistry from the experience. First, the amazing distinction between BR and the band prior, The Raveonettees. The band was fun, but the work was a little cheapened by one song that was pratically identical to The Beatles "Wanna Hold your Hand" in a different key. Seriously, everything except for the lyrics, from chords to vocal patternings. Whatever, I liked it anyway, but it escapes the memory faster for lack of originality. The band was also very presentational, tarted-up lead singer, barely looking at fellow members but completely oriented to the audience.Then Blonde Redhead came on. The focus of the audience magnified tenfold in reciprocation to the performers' concentration. Holy crap, I want that. I want to be that. So real and tangible, it's inescapable. Just them, raw and bare for the taking. I'm glad I was there.

So, what does all this flattery have to do with being great? And what the fuck does "being great" mean anyway? First, let me say that I am no special authority on greatness, certainly not any degree comparable to this guy on bullshit. But I do have a few thoughts.

For the past year, I've shifted my thinking to just"being". Being in a decent job, being self-sufficient, being calm and malleable. It's been trouble and a blessing. Sometimes, we need just as much time to observe as we need to act, and sometimes there's no inverse relationship all, in fact the proportions between them can be severely out of whack. I spent the last summer acting in a negative manner, and it's taken me, uh almost 6 months of reflection to comprehend and accept the consequences of those actions. Not being a very patient individual sometimes would sent me back, premature ejactulating on my own life through an inability to slow the fuck down. But now, today, like this minute. Seeing the immediacy, rigor, and vulnerability of the show last night, made me realize that the gestation period is over. The burn is back. I never stopped wanting to do something great with my life, I just lost the capacity to tackle it. Luckily, courage grows back. In the words of Rollo May, "Human freedom involves our capacity to pause, to choose the one response toward which we wish to throw our weight." What now that I've paused? Where am I throwing my weight?

In my opinion (and obviously, this whole thing is my opinion), "greatness" is not the fame attributed to dead white guys and a few very special ladies, it's not the celebrity culture of recognizable faces bombarding contemporary consumers, and it's not even song titles and band names painted into first-year students' art-work to stimulate some collective consciousness among viewers. Thanks to the Marines (and no political affliation whatsoever), it can be summed up as (let's say it together now) as "be all you can be". With reflection, "greatness" I experienced last night was due to the rigor. For that performance, for this moment in their career, I don't believe they could possibly have composed as better, played any stronger. They reached their own pinnacle and THAT trait is what grabs you. The Raveonettes and so many other bands aren't rigorous to the nines for whatever the reason and although it doesn't mean they SUCK, it just means they aren't as awesome as they could be. I want THAT. I want to reach my own personal pinnacle. And reaching the apex of my artistic life is in direct opposition to simply placing oneself in an environment where you might be surrounded by some great, talented artists, but your presence is strictly circumstantial.... because you fuck someone, or work somewhere, or snunk in to some party. You just rubbed shoulders. Regrettably, whatever it takes to do "great" things ain't topical. At a base level, doing something that's really genuine is pretty much a one-man-show. I'm the sheep-dog herding my constantly splintering self, I'm president, people, and shit of the Federated States of Isabella B. The synchronicity of Blonde Redhead's collaboration came out of 15 years of working together and god knows, they all have their own shit going on. There is a certain integrity that has to be brought to the table for a viable collaboration, and integrity/self-worth/dignity/blah blah blah neccesitates some personal wrangling, some cage-fighting with the id. Beat it down and pull out the essence.

So, I think this is the end before I completely divulge too much and turn the blog into a confessional. In closing, I just want to say that when I die, I would like there to be a little more than just my ashes leftover and for someone, anyone to say, "at least she did it well."
"Creativity is not merely the innocent spontaneity of our youth and childhood; it must also be married to the passion of the adult human being, which is a passion to live beyond one's death." - Rollo May