Fifteen Minutes of Fame Music Entertainment

Originally Published on August 31st

I want to tell you a story about the person in this photograph. This photo was taken of me in 2007, when I was 25 years old. It was meant to be a promotional photograph that would be used by my band, Next Year’s Best (similar photos of the other 4 band members were also taken). The album in which these photos would have promoted was never released. Years later, I released an EP entitled Internal Conflicts: A Suite in A Minor and I used a small part of this photo for the cover of that album. At the end of this month, I am re-releasing this EP (in physical form only) for a 10-year anniversary celebration of its release. In this latest release, the full photo will feature as the album’s cover.

That’s not the story though.

The story is about the person. In looking at the photograph, one could probably make some assumptions about the state of mind he’s in. The subtle smile, the focus in the eyes. He looks like he could be happy, confident or proud, or interested. When we start to ask ourselves about those feelings and where they come from, it becomes much more complicated than that.

I am happy. I am confident. I am interested. These are descriptive words that have been true for me for a long time. Sometimes, my happiness is used to mask sadness or depression. Sometimes, my confidence is used to hide anxiety, insecurity, or self doubt. Sometimes, my interest is a distraction to block out an over-indulgence of fear.

I, like many people, sometimes struggle with mental health. I am very proactive about treating my mental health and I try to be aware of when it starts to slide. My particular disorder is a funny one though. It likes to wear masks too. Sometimes, it looks like OCD, ADD, social and general anxiety disorder, sometimes even an eating disorder, and in some of the more severe instances, it can look like depression. Occasionally, it can show as more than one of these.

Last month, it was presenting as all of them. This has only happened to me one other time, and it was right after I was diagnosed. Honestly, I had felt some of these symptoms starting to show and I had been putting off addressing them (not recommended). So, when August happened and I was confronted with a number of personal, professional, and emotional issues, I wasn’t mentally prepared to manage them. That is why I only published 5 articles. That is why there are another 10 unfinished articles sitting in my draft folder. It’s also why I am staring into my studio space, knowing I have songs I want to record but am petrified to do so.

It’s a culmination of so many things: the feeling of wheels spinning in the mud. The anxiety I feel because I worry that I am writing this for 5 people who might read it (if I’m lucky). The anxiety of hating social media but feeling compelled to participate in an effort to maintain relevance, and the disappointment I feel when I see that I haven’t had an increase in followers or interaction in a year. It’s a crushing blow to this desire to want to help independent artists to only realize that, with some exceptions, maybe they don’t want my help.

It’s the feeling of spending years on a recording project that I poured my guts into. Hoping it might reach an audience. Hoping it might validate my own self worth and expel this imposter syndrome that has been a dark cloud over my head for decades. Only to feel like I’ve now surpassed “promotion” and I practically beg people to listen to the album or buy a vinyl. The disappointment I feel knowing that I once questioned whether or not to order 100 or 300 copies of the vinyl, in case people were excited about it, to a year later having only sold 30.

It’s the feeling of seeing the irony in being a middle-aged white man who is “sad because he doesn’t feel like he’s getting the attention he deserves.” Understanding that people don’t have to like me, they don’t have to read my articles or listen to artists I try to promote or recommend. They don’t have to listen to me. In fact, I hope people are finding their own ways to being passionate about music; whether it be as artists or fans. If people aren’t reading my articles, I hope they’re reading somebody’s. If they’re not buying my albums, I hope they’re buying somebody’s.

These feelings are valid and I’m entitled to them, because they’re mine. The truth is, this is an often thankless hobby I’ve adopted. Most of the time, I’m ok with that because it’s more for me than anything. Writing articles is my own personal way of journaling. I love writing and playing music. I don’t aspire to any kind of fame or notoriety. I would do it if nobody listened. But there is a part of me that pays attention. I see when people read. I see when people listen. And I see when they don’t. And this isn’t about being angry at people when they don’t listen or read. It’s about questioning the value of the articles I write and the songs I play. Am I really contributing anything? Am I inspiring anybody?

So, cards on the table, I almost ended Fifteen Minutes of Fame last month. It wasn’t just because of these things. There was an onslaught of circumstances that ganged up on my mental health. Fifteen Minutes of Fame was simply, nearly, collateral damage.

Slowly, I am finding my way back. I am home from work this week. I have a little “staycation” until after Labor Day. I’m going to start publishing some articles. I’m even going to sneak into the studio to work on these songs I’ve been really excited about. I’m being careful not to overwhelm myself. It’s a process and it’s important to go through that process step by step.

I apologize for my absence. I’m back now. I’m going to leave it at that and go press play.