I'm used to seeing Rip Torn as over-the-top angry, so it was a pleasant surprise to become acquainted with his beardless, suave demeanor in Defending Your Life, an underrated film I recommend to you which I've put up on my mental shelf alongside Being There and other existential classics.
I heard of it from Oliver Chesler, who brought up the central theme of fear. Not just a particular, lone instance, but the fear that travels alongside us in our life's journey, and stunts us short of our potential. As Oliver aptly summed:
The basic moral of the movie is that you only live once so stop worrying what other people think of you. I’m such a tightly wound person I think of think of this stuff a lot. I’m always trying to remember that most people are just concerned with their own lives, no one really cares what the hell you are doing so enjoy your time without shame.
This is something which is healthy to hear repeatedly; I think there was a Buffy the Vampire Slayer quote from years ago which I'm paraphrasing:
Why are my problems so much bigger than everyone else's? Because they're my problems.
(I can't find that quote, so if you know what it actually is, let me know.)
I thought about musicians who feel creatively impassioned to change their style and grow. It's in their heart, but they don't travel far because they're afraid to upset "fans". This is a most dreadful — paralyzing — fear because when you lump "fans" in the abstract, you stop seeing them as individuals who appreciate different things about your music and image. Like a Venn diagram, some overlap, some don't. Also, while it's beloved to please the crowd with a familiar hit, remember this: all good friends were strangers once, and since music is so often tied with memories of other senses, it makes more sense to make new memories: adventure forth, instead of establishing a foundation then trapping yourself there. You can't always count on commercial success since life isn't a controlled experiment — and if you're obligated to a record company or other obligations, external pressure realistically exerts control over what you can do — which is why I'm in the happy position of making tunes for my musical Dream Journal simply because I enjoy it. It may not always be this way and some collaborations are more beloved than others (iPhone games with a tight team?), but I'm here now.
To extend that branch, being afraid to do something bold because "some people" will criticize you is self-defeating. There'll always be "some people". But there also "more people" who haven't discovered you yet, who are a better likeminded fit, who are more apt to grow with you throughout time. After all, with fans of bands, there are those who proclaim love but it's surface-deep because they have a fixed perception of you which doesn't evolve. Yet there are others who are curious in your backstory and where you're going, even if it's somewhere they may initially be awkward or uncomfortable with. It's fine, your music helps them through.
What I'm writing about music can be applied more broadly in work and play. I mention music as I'm intimately familiar with its ins & outs. In my youth, I became part of very close-knit composer communities. I liked having their "protection", yet at the same time, didn't like all their rules. So I ventured out on my own once, and was predictably threatened with being ostracized. It was hard, because I lost my support network there. But out on the open road and continuing to today, I make new allies who are more flexible, more willing to speak out about, well, what doesn't usually get brought up in polite conversation. Like any successful relationship, it needs to flow in both directions.
However, I continue to be profoundly perplexed by how much artificial culture has both liberated and crippled music because of how we perceive genres. A recurring theme: on one hand, convenience calls, and on the other, stupid shit spews out. Like, I was watching YouTube videos and ran into arguments over "what genre" Major Lazer's "Hold The Line" belongs to. Does it matter? Yes, if you're going to use that genre to advance a greater end, like using terms to market music to new fans. But words that go nowhere are slop. And yet, to revolve back to our central theme here, there's so much fear that revolves around it.
I enjoy learning from fellow electronic musicians, but one thing I caution about — from prior experience, naturally — is not to focus (deliberately or unconsciously) on having other "same scene" musicians as your listeners. There's too much criticism which isn't necessary. Too many producers want to ask what gear you use without the patience to partner with you for the long haul. There are parasites and leeches which serve no good; infact, some people feel pressured to criticize (but won't openly admit it) due to a volatile mix of not sounding smart enough, jealousy, and sundry other insecurities. It becomes like a Ponzi Scheme, perhaps not of Madoff-like proportions, but one wherein there's too much idea interbreeding after awhile, because the most ardent devotees to a particular philosophy have become set in their ways and are unlikely to crawl out of their holes to hear what else is happening. Yes, there are exceptions. Yes, they're damn rare. YES, TREASURE THEM. This is why it's been tough for me to find people who consume both Top 40 pop and experimental ambient, but I love that sort of outlook — some call it progressive, I believe it transcends words — that can keep shining, even in the face of a mess which doesn't fit into boxes. Remember: without regular injections of diversity, your inner systems will grow stale.
If that doesn't make sense to you, you'll need your own firsthand experiences. It's akin to the difference between, well, observing any group of people versus actually living as one of them. A shift in lifestyle which entails greater philosophical questions, but for me, ultimately, not to end there. Intellectual discussion is something I find appealing only if it serves to further something practical and beneficial; a common theme with me.
When we can evolve, and become increasingly HIGHMINDED, then lesser concerns aren't of consequence to us. But until then, like in Defending Your Life, even enroute to greater things (family? Career? Heaven?), we become trapped in our own mindjails. Go around in circles, become fearfully addicted to making the same mistakes repetitively. Instead of a compelling loop that pushes us forth to dance, it becomes a cycle of self-harm. The aspect of HIGHMINDEDNESS isn't a function of any organized religion but is an empirical, logical aspect of each and every one of us. In DYL, Albert Brooks falls — or shall we, say, rises? — in love while at Judgment City, awaiting whether he'll be returned to a mortal shell or "go forward". It's not just the love he feels, but the external expression of it — visible to the lady he loves (portrayed by Meryl Streep) and others watching him — that matters.