Debt or Dismissal?

"Do I owe the sometimes random people who have decided to pay money to invest in my music and come see a show? I don’t owe them anything up front to have a certain level of honesty. I’m just creating something that has an engagement factor for me, that I think is interesting, challenging and expresses something." 

 -De Backer, from an article through The Music Network approximately one year ago 

(http://www.themusicnetwork.com/music-features/artists/2011/08/15/gotye-neurotic-exotica/)

 ~~~

There's a certain intrinsic response to a statement of that nature, from the individuals who become subsumed into that label of 'random people.' When I first digested the above article I was inescapably vexed that the artist (who arguably would not himself be labeled with such a distinction without the recognition of others) would adopt an utterly dismissive tone regarding the ears that hear his message. It smacked of hubris, of some sense of insular narcissism. I bristled at the thought that I had myself invested now countless dollars on the work of a man who would treat that benefit so cavalier. 

 "God, what a bastard. Is that the guy I've been listening to, splitting my head open over?"

In retrospect, now being privileged with far more information and insight into the often prostrate reality of our beloved musician, I see in sharper relief the burdens that bare upon his shoulders. I wholly admit to being part of the weight of that encumbrance. That-in itself-is a curious and precarious balancing act, to be so 'blindly' supportive of someone's work and life, yet to do so through the narrowest perspective, through the tiny pinhole to which I am privy. Do I labor in futility, acting as part of the scaffold that braces and art and an artisan with whom I have barely any mutual familiarity? 

It's only by virtue of the ever-expanding community of fellow fans that I find some deeper value to the often isolated sense of being a 'random person.' When the herd is gathered, we seem less like singular social anomalies with an overly-intense proclivity towards noise.  One begins to see themselves as part of something greater and more profound....suddenly random people become a mass enough to fill every last seat in a stadium, and flood out into the streets. There's a sense of validation and permission and power that comes by the notion of alliance. Some artists seem to be acutely aware of that power when they present their work to the crowd. Others seem inconvenienced by it, as though they would rather sing into utter silence. I see both sides of that tension balancing themselves upon Wally's tufted head. Like the ancient Roman deity Janus, he is both blessed and burdened with the view of the past and the potential future. And as Janus, he bares awareness of both agony and joy. On occasion we witness one of those personas as dominant, other times the opposing tendency surfaces. Sometimes he speaks of elation and anticipation for the work ahead and the gleeful reception it will undoubtedly receive. Sometimes he grumbles about the reality in which he now exists. It is certainly no wonder that he displays this duality-anyone would. It is the nature of the emotions he must place on his work. We cannot expect him to be disaffected.

I would like to think there's some merit to being a leg under the stool, even when it creaks and rocks beneath the weight upon it. Sometimes I myself feel put-upon by my passion for the productions of the supposed 'master.' On occasion I bemoan my fidelity. When I feel slighted (or when I feel others for whom I care are apparently slighted) I grouse and fuss and emotionally storm off like an insolent child. Yet what offense has really been done to me? I've not been violated in any manner beyond the transgressions I have committed against myself by feeling entitled or ignorant. I am, in the end, just a 'random' person in the grander scope of view. What about that makes me impatient?

 I think back on a review of the album Stand Out/Fit In by Wally and company's yet under-appreciated 3-man production The Basics. A one Charlie Sutherland begins a reflection on the music and the makers:

"The struggle for one's identity has never been more fierce - every day and from every side we are confronted by messages designed to challenge what little certainty we have. Am I special? Should I be like everyone else? Is it okay to want to be more? We learn to be very careful about what we do and what we say, introspective to the last."

This notion shouts back to the statement made by Wally himself that those he served are 'random' people. In less frenetic times, he himself was party to the same sentiments of isolation, ingratitude and anonymity.  Now that the veil obscuring artistic recognition has been lifted, has he now lost sight of those youthful sentiments? Now that he stands above most of us, is he immune to the all-too-human struggle to feel valued? My own instinct is that he is in fact all the more fragile now that he is displayed like a Faberge egg to millions of awestruck eyes. The interference in his head has to be all the more deafening at times.

As fans, I think we have to engage in regular acts of guerilla self-awareness. Otherwise, we are liable to become problematic and thus begin to blend into the mess. If we are genuinely inspired by the work at hand, we must respond with socially responsible actions and connections. We must take the kindling from the fire and make our own little sources of heat and warmth, and most imperative, we must share that warmth with others. That way, not one of us must be left feeling like just some random, meaningless face in the crowd.

Nothing but love, Wally....you know that. But with adoration comes examination. :}

c. P 2012