Failed Artists Are a Danger to World Peace.
Georgia and I just spent a lovely weekend in Washington DC. On our one free day we said to ourselves, “What would be fun?”
The answer?
The Holocaust Museum!!!
We spent most of our day walking thru the Holocaust Museum, being both stunned and inspired.
And in pain. There is something about museums that hurt my back. I think the art is hung too low. Up six inches or so and I’d probably be fine.
One of the things you learn in the holocaust museum is that Hitler was a failed artist. He wanted to have the world accept him as an artist. He painted. No one liked what he painted… so he invaded Poland.
I have had some “over the top” reactions to career disappointments before but I have NEVER invaded a sovereign country. (To my knowledge)
We all get rejected. We all think we are doing wonderful things only to be told that they fall short. How we deal with that is what separates the true artist from the dabbler.
In the songwriting world you get rejected 999 times out of 1000. You have to throw huge volumes of stuff at the wall to have just one thing stick. You never develop a thick skin. You have to recognize the parameters you are working under.
At the level I am working here in Nashville… all my songs are good. I don’t mean to sound bragging when I say that. It’s just that I know what I’m doing, so every song I write is viable. Any one of them could be recorded by someone. Why aren’t they?
Maybe one word in my title is the same as one word in a title of a song they already spent money on and recorded.
Maybe my song has the same tempo as a song they have already cut.
Maybe my song has the same SNARE DRUM sound as another song they have already cut.
Get my drift? I once was in the middle of a fight between a husband and a wife that started over a pie one of them was cooking.
“Should he have baked the pie?” the wife asked me…
“It’s not about the pie,” I responded.
“But we needed the pie for dinner and she was just jealous of my pie,” the husband shouted…
“It’s not about the pie,” I repeated.
It wasn’t about the pie. And it’s not about the song. It hardly ever is. Keep that in mind when your song gets rejected and don’t even THINK about marching on Czechoslovakia.
One last thing I came out of the Holocaust museum smiling about. (It can be done)
I love Mel Brooks. It’s amazing how he weaponized humor against Hitler by making him the butt of all the jokes in The Producers. It’s one of my favorite movies. Looking at a map in the museum I saw that one of the ghettos was named Bialystok. The main character in ‘The Producers’ was a sleazy, crooked, object of ridicule named Max Bialystock.
What a great way to reclaim something and make people smile with something that once made them cry.
I recommend the museum to anyone spending an afternoon in DC. Just remember…it’s not about the pie.