Why Do You Do What You Do?

A little unfinished business with a silver snare drum…and a lifetime of discovering why live music, and the stories behind it, matter.

I’ve been asked a lot of fair questions along this journey…

Last night at 317 Burger for Troubadour Songwriter Night, another good one…from a musician.

Pump the brakes…a common tone-setting question I almost always get…do you play? Are you playing tonight?

No, I write…what do you mean, like…music? Umm, no, I write…about music. Specifically, local musicians–bands–venues.

Oh.

Last night it was a variation, but a good one…one that produced some contemplation.

Why do you do what you do? The sincerity with which the question was asked merited a more nuanced response.

This one caused me to shift on my heels…”honestly, it’s because I’m a frustrated musician…” like you don’t get enough gigs? “No…I don’t play an instrument.”

Oh.

Yeah, oh…but here is where the nuance comes in. 6th grade…band. We were told to pick an instrument, so my mom took me down to the music store, and there it was. A beautiful silver Ludwig snare drum–like a siren calling from the deep.

I set that beautiful piece of musical architecture up in my bedroom in front of the window. It was a beautiful early autumn day…sun shining…leaves just starting to turn to their Crayola-box colors.

There I was practicing…just like the band director and Mom said to do. Rat-a-tat-tat, rat-a-tat-tat, rat-a-tat-tat. Then stealthy-like, out of thin air, appearing from nowhere.

My dad.

Dad, without breaking stride on his U-turn out of the room…snatched the sticks right out of my hand, grabbed the silver bullet…stand and all…and that was it.

Drum career over before it ever started.

Replacement? The French horn. Yeah, the French horn.

It was made clear to me by valued music educators that the next rotation would likely be a much better fit for me next quarter.

Woodshop.

So, there you have it…frustrated musician.

That said, that developmental episode in my life did not diminish my affinity for music…particularly live music.

In the last few weeks at shows, and in conversation, several musicians have shared that songwriting and performing are a kind of therapy. As one artist said, “I process sad things through music. Music gives me…us, the space to process.”

Bingo. Music gives me the space to process.

Conventional wisdom says most people tend to hear either the lyrics or the music first. I’m a whole-brain integration kind of guy. Of course, some songs just lend themselves to the lyrics or the music being heard…first.

In my life, I have been a live-music junkie. I’ve seen a LOT of shows.

With the advent of cameras being built into phones, everybody started videoing the shows they attend and posting pictures. Hey, look how cool I am.

Confession…I was (and occasionally still am) that guy.

About 6 months ago…an idea that had been taking shape over years (many) came to life.

Indy Local Live. Trusted mentor…”You know that sounds like a news outlet.” Too late, already bought the URL.

With little fanfare and great gnashing of teeth, Indy Local Live was born.

My vision was to support Indianapolis live music through storytelling. That hasn’t changed…but I’ve learned the stories come from the relationships, and the relationships come from showing up.

So…that’s a long-winded way of answering…”Why do you do what you do?”

I do what I can do…I can write.

And, it’s about time I began actually using my degree in journalism. 😏😂