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F.Y.I.
by Art Howard
28
and Beyond
(Last
F.Y.I. column, July 2001) |
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Twenty-eight,
not 18, is the age that truly
seperates the men from the boys,
the women from the girls, and the
satisfied from the restless. This
is the time when those who have
taken the road less traveled
begin to wonder if that road is
less traveled for a reason.
They also begin looking for rest
areas with clean toilets.
Several years ago I was reading a
biography of Rush Limbaugh (don't
worry, I'm not a
"Dittohead," I was just
interested in his career).
Limbaugh said that several times
during his early radio career
that old hands in the biz had
told him to give it up, that
"no one does radio past the
age of 28."
Much more recently I have been
interviewing and talking to
musicians. Most of the
up-and-coming musicians you read
about on this site are around the
ages of 25 to 27. Talking to and
working with these people, more
than one has told me that they
find themselves living on $20 a
week, living out of a van, and
comparing where they're at in
life to childhood friends who may
now be making six-figure salaries
in more conventional careers.
Some begin doubting their choices
at this time.
Three years ago, when I was 27, I
was in a similar situation. I was
working at a small 1,000 watt
radio station in a very small
town in north Georgia. While I
dreamed of stardom, the ladder
rungs between me and that goal
were evaporating due to the
automation of the radio business.
Program directors in fairly big
California markets like Ventura
and Bakersfield even called to
tell me that they liked my demo
tapes, there just wasn't anything
open because their stations were
going automated.
Finally I decided that maybe I
had been fooling myself all
along, and maybe it was time to
pack it in and get a
"real" job "down
at the "ol' sawmill."
Around that same time, out of a
frustrated desire for a creative
outlet, I started printing a very
small local music magazine here
in Atlanta, which then turned
into this Web site. I never
mapped out a game plan for it,
never thought it was anything
more than a nice hobby. All the
way through, though, the whole
thing has kept growing, and has
reached a far larger audience
than my old radio job ever would
have. I've moved from just
writing about local Atlanta
musicians to chatting with people
I never imagined I would meet
like Warren Haynes, Vassar
Clements, Derek Trucks, String
Cheese Incident and Steve Morse.
Now professional publications,
some of which I've been reading
since I was a teenager, are
expressing an interest in
printing my writing. Even a
couple of newspapers and
magazines have called to
interview me about this site.
Three years after I thought it
was time to pack it in and head
to the "sawmill,"
things have gotten better than
ever, and in ways I hadn't even
considered. I had never even
thought about writing before, but
its turned out to be the medium
I've had the most success in.
All of which means to you,
that if you're 25, 26, 27, and
pursuing a calling that isn't
returning your calls -- don't
despair. If it is truly in you,
then you will continue to do it
in some way, whether there's
money in it or not. And when
you're pursuing something not out
of a empty lust for superficial
rewards, but out of your true
nature --
then things have to give way
somewhere, somehow. I love to
quote George Carlin when he said,
"I love to see the blade of
grass that grows up through the
crack in the sidewalk. Its so
fuckin' heroic." That's what
its like when you persist and go
where your instincts lead you --
you cannot be paved over, and
you'll bust through somewhere,
somehow, and likely in ways you
hadn't previously conceived.
As Robert Hunter said in that
Grateful Dead song, "Box of
Rain": Maybe you'll find
direction/around some corner
where its been waiting to meet
you.
See you at the show. |
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Comments?
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