Living in Nashville is great, but you start to wonder whether music is even special anymore.
Your next-door neighbor plays guitar for so-and-so. Your Uber driver sings better than anyone who’s ever won The Voice. And your Instagram feed is so full of exceptional musicians and artists, you start thinking becoming a plumber might be a smart way to differentiate yourself in the marketplace—while actually getting paid for your services.
What I’ve found helpful is literally flying to a remote island you’ve never heard of because your wife says she’ll die if she has to spend one more winter in Nashville. The cold, gray, wet winters should come with complimentary Zoloft. Besides keeping your wife alive, you know your relationship with music needs help. It used to be fun. You used to be inspired and moved. Now you keep everything muted when scrolling through social media. Your hands get clammy when you see a link to someone’s new song. And you despise yourself every time you have new music of your own to share.
But then you travel to some island that’s not a realistic option for most people. Whatever—it’s your reality right now. And you notice no one’s asking to get a cowrite on the books or whether you can help them get a deal. They don’t even have Spotify. They stream YouTube. The restaurants too—hits from the early 2000s. Kelly Clarkson and The Fray cut in and out because the internet connection isn’t great.
And one day online, you see your friend Tim has a new song. At first, you freeze up a little. Oh dear. Not another new song. But you—having been away for a couple of weeks now—decide to listen. And maybe it’s true that distance makes the heart grow fonder. Maybe it’s true it takes a little time sometimes. Because you listen to Tim’s song, and you enjoy it. Not just because it’s really well written and performed and is a great piece of art, but because you know how hard he’s worked in Nashville to hone his craft. That he’s probably hating himself right now for asking people to listen.
But I don’t think he—or I, or any of us—have to hate ourselves as badly as we do. The world doesn’t live in Nashville. They live everywhere else. Including small islands off the coast of wherever. And these people still like music. They like your music. Because music is cool and special. It actually is.
Love,
Aaron