General

Creative inhibitors (e.g., writer's block) aren't solely because one lacks good ideas: sometimes, we know what we want to do, but are pressured not to put it "out there in the world". Why? It's hardly ever a single source: external discouragement can lead to that little, self-censoring voice in our head trying to tell us that we'll never be good enough, so why bother? This is a kind of mindjail, where what blocked us may have originated from outside our heads, but we now trap ourselves because a bad seed is permitted to fester. Who gave it permission? You. Inside our thought processes, we cycle, using the tool of reinforcement to cut ourselves down instead of grow.

I was watching a variety of YouTube music performances recently wherein the performer strove to emulate another instrument with a synth keyboard, and there was a common trend through most of them: the undistinguished response of, "It doesn't sound like a real guitar/flute/ukelele/so-and-so!" Nevermind the fact that not in a single one of these videos did the performer profess to be "authentic" to the source emulation, there was an alarming lack of comments asking about the performer's intentions, as well as not more "Aha, it has properties of this other instrument, but you've taken it someplace else."

What I somewhat jestfully refer to as the nation of "Generiqua" — a cloud of useless opinions — has happened to me too. If you find yourself here, so I am I. And as the old saying goes, if you must have the real thing, then have it. But being unreal, while certain limitations are imposed, frees you up to explore other avenues. And in doing so, you can liberate yourself from mindjail.

After all, early electronic music pioneers realized this: some, like Kraftwerk, would be dogged with "synths are only good for mechanical bleeps and bloops", so they hyperbolized the stereotype as best they could, and influenced many others in the process. (And with a sense of humor, I need to add.) They showed an uncharacteristic courage, and while they haven't been severely prolific in recent decades, their impact is still revered and namedropped by people who've never listened to them.

Another artist I've long heroized is Jan Hammer, a patron saint of the keytar who plugged his synths into physical guitar amps. Where would electro pop be without his pitchbending wails today? While I haven't read about vocal opposition to him, it's likely he's had his unfair share of mindjailed detractors. As I like to say, if you can't think for yourself, you'll tell someone else how to act.

Mindjail traps so many. Anytime I watch a virtuosic music performance like a crazy guitar solo or insane piano runs, there's always someone who kneejerks blindly and decries it as "wanking", "masturbatory", and so on — as if that was bad or sinful if you really think about it. I'm convinced some aspects of how humans are primally hardwired (fight/flight) renders us frail to bypassing these lowminded, almost automatic reactions. To achieve greater artistic potential, to celebrate our passionate highmind, we must deconstruct the plaque that has accumulated on the "teeth" of our brain's mouth (if the mind can have an eye, why not?). It takes conscious cleaning everyday. See: Julia Cameron's The Artist's Way.

One more fun example I can conjure up is "house piano". Most signature house piano riffs are to piano what stuffed-crust American pizza is to 19th-century Italian pizza, I suppose: textural similarities but the technique and assembly are so different. House piano, as some key tracks listed here, often consists of harsh, quantized stabbing which is in some ways quite foreign from traditional "playing" where one does not bang out syncopated chords like a robot. And then that leads me to wonder why there aren't more bridges between these two worlds? I suspect part of it is a lack of people who have actually traveled to both. (I'll save an extended scribe about the virtues of having both step-programming and realtime performance skills for another day.)

While it sounds harsh, we can easily observe how many generic impulses are out there, making gems resoundingly rare. This doesn't mean that the aforementioned YouTube commenters are stupid, but: it's often a reflection of being stuck in their own mindjail, not vocally contemplating broader possibilities. The vast majority of people don't lead with their limitations (maybe they've been hurt too many times and are afraid to share), and this leads to compounded miscommunication. This is why I find many conversations a waste, for they start off on the wrong feet, and hence, can't dance.

So whether you're making music or writing or painting — or dancing — consider the mindjails of your medium, and being aware of them, iteratively set yourself free while encouraging fellow likeminded spirits to do so. I shall continue to write on this topic at a later time because it's one that bears no merit sans lifelong experience, and happens to be a driving force behind my Dream Journal.

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Love getting thoughtful questions. DavidL asks:

I know you promote creativity and innovation, but why do people automatically think that if something isn't innovative and is 100% new and unique that it automatically sucks? They seem to automatically discount something if it has the slightest resemblance in any way to something else. What are your thoughts on this?

You'd have to ask those people. While there are differing motives depending on the individual, I find this reactionary behavior sometimes goes hand-in-hand with procrastination: someone can't achieve perfection in their lives yet strive to uphold it, so they condemn others for not living up to their own standards… yet they can't make it a reality! All while not "getting their hands dirty" to explore what's possible, putting off what can be done today. Sad, true, and if more people owned up to it, we could openly acknowledge such defective constructs.

All creativity is temporally indebted; those who fail to acknowledge influences and their "artistic ancestors" are leaving out a significant piece of the puzzle, which leads to false impressions by those who enjoy the art. Musically, WhoSampled is one of my favorites; finding out the origin of a drum break or vocal snippet adds to my appreciation of both works, that a sound can transcend time & space and not only find further utility, but pleasure more people. I love sharing my inspirations, because not only does it enable people who like what I do to find more like it, it reinforces cultural context and helps build connections.

I have, on occasion, come across various people who share the mentality of judging what they haven't experienced. They don't immediately confess it, and it's a broken mindset, e.g., "I heard one song Lady Gaga made and it sucks, therefore everything she made must suck!" This is unfortunate, because as I've described, if nothing is without prior work, then everything must "automatically suck"… and this makes no sense whatsoever. No human is unable to experience the world without some relation to an earlier source — whether it's learning language from your parents or learning to survive with street smarts — and while some things are more alien than others, that isn't necessarily due to its intrinsic nature, but often, how it's marketed. For example, a portable laser sounds more like a weapon or a classroom aid than a cat toy, but once one becomes aware of cat's natural acuity to chase shiny things, it makes sense. It is up to each of us to piece those connections together and continue to develop our curiosities.

Real innovation can be subtle. It can be a minimum of effort that makes a maximized difference. I find generating substantial results from a few moves far more desirable than blowing off steam and having little (or nothing) to show for it. Therefore, I challenge us all to innovate while always being respectful and paying tribute to what came before. Also, use words to lubricate progress, not impede or fuck it up.

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Sometimes I don't feel like creating. But I force myself to get on with it, and by the time I've got my hands dirty, I feel inspired. It seems like such a paradox because the inspiration didn't seem to be there to begin with, but once you've got the proverbial rocket off the ground, it's attained escape velocity and is now soaring smoothly through your imaginative space.

I've heard the same advice applied to writing, music, and other arts: the only way is through, so take that road and keep driving. Sooner than you realize it, your once-blank slate is a thriving ecosystem. Arguably, in times like this, creating crap is far better than creating nothing at all — just be sure to sort it out before sharing with the world. (There's something to be said for non-judgmental exploration, not just brainstorming but quickly executing those wild ideas, in all of that.)

Ever had the same experience?

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