The Entertainer: How I Found My Life’s Calling

I write this from the fancy-schmancy professional studio I’ve been holed up in for the entirety of spring break. It’s almost 2 in the morning, and going by track records here, my bandmate and I won’t be leaving until 6, if not even later. The only thing I have to eat is a jar of cashew butter I shoved into my guitar case. I’m running on Adderall, enough caffeine to kill a horse, and a brief power nap I took hours ago. But as much as I want to complain, I can’t.

This is the life I chose, you know?

When I was a kid, this is the kind of stuff I’d dream about doing someday. I don’t think I can overstate how influential music was to me growing up. I’d watch Behind the Music religiously and dream about the day I’d be in my heroes’ shoes. I’d even imagine my own episode someday, all of my wild ups and downs throughout my career. Music was a mystical thing and I had my own pantheon — Bon Jovi were gods and Ann and Nancy Wilson were my goddesses.

I’m not actually goth, I was just really influenced by the music video for Heart’s “Alone.”

This past week, I’ve spent five nights and one long day doing what I’ve been wanting to do for years — work as a professional musician. I feel like I’m so close to phasing out any form of “real work” and just doing what I love, and it feels great to be honest. I’m sick of menial unimportant work. I want to do something with meaning.

For a long time, I assumed my role on this planet was to help people in a really real and tangible way. In high school, I was insistent on becoming a doctor so I could do just that (and for the clout of being able to call myself a doctor, obvs). Of course my parents talked me out of that career path, and probably for the best, because knowing how flaky I can be, I’d probably be the person who leaves a scalpel in a patient or something.

But even after I left my shallow dreams of doctorness behind, I was convinced I’d someday be a music therapist, and that was going to be my method of helping people. My first love has always been music, so I knew that had to be involved somehow. It was the perfect arrangement — I’d get to do what I love and also help people. Alas, those dreams didn’t pan out either, no thanks to my nightmarish internship that soured me to the entire profession I’d been pursuing for a decade.

Which leads me to where I am now. I host music bingo for a living. I put on trivia shows for local bars. I’m studying audio engineering and on special occasions, I get to be a studio musician and help out with recording guitar or bass. Nothing I’m doing is groundbreaking or livesaving. No one needs a game of music bingo. But I’m content, because the things I am doing are still important in their own way. I talked a little about serving glimmers as an entertainer on here, but it stands repeating. Entertainment and the arts are crucial to every day life because they’re an intrinsic part of being human. It’s why I’ve got mixed thoughts on AI. Art and humanity have been linked since the dawn of civilization. It’s what makes us different from other creatures, even relatively intelligent ones like dolphins.

Try making art with flippers, you untalented swine.

We need arts and entertainment. It’s the thing that keeps us sane in this hectic society. And honestly, it’s a huge honor work as an entertainer. I love what I do. I love putting smiles on people’s faces. I used to think working in entertainment was selfish. After all, I only want to do it because I love attention, right? And I mean, I do enjoy being the center of attention, but there’s an altruistic element to it as well. Making people happy — just giving people something to look forward to in this dark world — is what keeps me going.

I’ll end this sort of rambly blog post with an anecdote from my freshman year of college. I was very casually dating the sweetest, gentlest guy. He was smallish in stature and cute in a nice Jewish boy way and really, really loved sloths. My point is you’d never expect this young man to play guitar like a fucking rock god, but he did. He could shred. And he had such a way with crafting beautiful songs. We didn’t work out for reasons I’ll never know, but I was madly in love with him. That’s not why he holds a place in my heart to this day, though.

One night, we were sitting in the car. He was showing me Buckethead, one of his biggest influences, alongside John Frusciante, whom I also came to love. And my sweet kinda-boyfriend revealed to me the meaning behind his band’s name, Smiles and Anchors. He wanted to honor his passion for making people happy through music. That’s all he wanted to do. It wasn’t about becoming famous or rich. He just wanted to bring a little light to people in his little world.

And that shook me.

Music has always been my way of connecting with others, but I’d never heard anyone put it that way before. Until then, music was more about what it did for me. It made me happy. It made me connections with others. But what about the folks listening? To them, we’re the ones making life a little more bearable. We’re the ones providing the soundtracks to memories. And it’s kind of humbling in a weird way, and I like that. I never want to lose sight of why I play music. I never want to let my ego soil the joy I get from making my listeners happy with my songs, because it’s not about me. It’s about them. That conversation was part of the reason I ended up getting an anchor on my foot for my first tattoo. I wanted a physical reminder to stay humble, no matter where music takes me.

I intentionally censored my horrendously long and upsetting toes. You’re welcome.

And that’s what being an entertainer is all about to me. It’s hard work. It’s scary. You have to put yourself out there. You have to practice a lot. Sometimes you’re in the studio for so long your contacts practically melt into your eyes and you get a gnarly case of conjunctivitis (true story). But for all the sacrifices this lifestyle takes, it’s worth it. Being a performer has been some of the most rewarding work I’ve ever done, and I’m happy I get to share it all with you.

Almost Icarus: What I learned “Writing” an Album With AI Software

This might be my most controversial blog post yet, moreso than any of my posts on religion or politics. Like, I could lose my Artist™ card over this transgression.

You see, I have sinned. I wrote an album using AI software.

Not a song.

Not even an EP.

A whole ass album.

I realize that sounds bad, and it kind of is. Bear with me.

“First you use AI, now you’re saying you have a bear with you. Can we even believe you Jessa??”

I’ve discussed AI in depth on here before, and to be honest I was a skeptic before I met a good friend who introduced me to the software. It was simple enough — you input a prompt (or a full set of lyrics if you’re really fancy), and out pops a song. And the songs it spat out were not robotic or mechanical at all. They sounded extremely realistic, all with breath sounds and guitar string scrapes and lifelike vocals. There was no uncanny valley — that valley had been crossed.

The friend was using the software because they don’t play an instrument, but wanted to write songs, which I mean, I definitely get that. I can’t shame someone for wanting to bring the music in their head to life. That’s what I’ve spent my entire life trying to do myself through songwriting.

But one night, I was bored at work. They say that idle hands are the devil’s playthings, and the little red man was feeling especially feisty I guess. So I downloaded the software myself and plugged in some of my unused lyrics along with prompts that reflected the kind of music I wanted to make. I figured it wouldn’t hurt to generate some ideas to glean. And holy shit was my mind blown. Suddenly I had one, two, five songs that were literally already complete, and according to the licensing policy of the particular software I was using, I could do whatever the hell I wanted with these songs. I could post them, remix them…

Pull it to the side and get all up in them.

I could re-record all of the songs I’d beep-booped and release them myself. It was genius! This was going to streamline songwriting in ways I’d never imagined. Suddenly, I was writing lyrics to see what the software would spit out. It was almost addictive.

But it didn’t come without a cost. I felt a twinge of guilt whenever my girlfriend would mention an anti-AI post. I knew what I was doing was technically cheating, but the dopamine hit from hitting “create” was too strong. My imposter syndrome was getting worse because of it. I’ve been writing music since I was 14 — how the fuck was a computer writing better songs than me? It was almost disheartening. Nothing I tried to come up with on my own compared to the full songs this software came up with in ten seconds.

Not to mention the fact that my taste in music was now borked. I now had all these songs I’d created and curated specifically for my own taste in music, and nothing else compared. I wasn’t getting “hyperfixation” songs like I used to because all I wanted to listen to were my creations on repeat. I needed to squeeze all of the joy I possibly could out of them because nothing else was satisfying.

The songs after I sucked the life out of them.

So here we are now, with me stuck with 12 songs I only half wrote and don’t know what to do with. The conundrum I find myself in is that these are not only good songs, but personal songs. I used some deeply personal lyrics I couldn’t find a melody worthy of in order to make some of these songs. There’s a song about recovering from my rape, there’s a song about how I probably won’t ever get to have a kid, there’s even a song about how I’m willing to go to war to defend my girlfriend from Nazis. I tried rewriting them but nothing sticks like the fucking AI songs. At this point they’re more than songs. They’re demons I need to exorcise.

And the only way I can exorcise them is by re-recording them and releasing them into the world.

I wanted to write this blog post before I post anything from this album just because I don’t feel ethically sound releasing something made with AI without disclosing that detail. I came to love these songs and I hope you do too, despite their origin. They’re still very much my work lyrically, and I’ll do my best to make it musically own as well. It’s unsettling how close some them already sound to songs that came directly from my noggin. “Fire” is a sexy rocker to “Sweet Honey,” and “WTF” could be considered the sequel of “Chrysanthemums.” I’ve been trying to think of some way to frame the release of these songs as a social experiment — will the music I created with AI be more successful than music created entirely by humans — but truthfully, I just want to get these songs out there in some fashion.

This blog post comes with a warning — if you’re a creative type at all, use caution when utilizing AI software, because it will erode your actual skills if you’re not careful. That’s not to say it won’t have any legitimate uses. I can see it being used in music therapy settings with a lot of success, and I’ve heard of nerdy types using it to make songs specific to their D&D campaigns. Hell, I can see it being used to get ideas during a bad writer’s block, so long as you don’t lose your own voice. But therein lies the problem. AI is like fire — it is a tool, but you have to remember, it’s still fucking fire. It’s almost eerily fitting that the software I used contains the word “sun” and one of the songs I made with it was one named “Icarus.” At first I wanted to believe I was Bernie Taupin and the AI was my Elton John, but if I’m honest, I was Icarus and the AI was my sun.

It’s not flying, it’s falling with style.

I don’t harbor any ill will toward the friend that showed me the software or even the software itself. I’m glad the songs I beep-booped into existence exist now, even if I wish the circumstances behind their existence were different. I don’t know if I’ll ever write anything with AI again after this project is properly exorcised. My next project is a concept album that’s almost finished lyric-wise, and I’m so tempted at times to pump them into the software and see what it comes up with, but I’m restraining myself as best as I can. I want to see what I can come up with this time.

I kind of miss the process of creating, and im tempted to make my next project entirely analog for this reason. I miss that hands-on feeling. When I was at my girlfriend’s apartment this weekend, I toyed with her synthesizer and recorded a handful of catchy riffs with my phone. They’re not full songs, but they’re starts. And most importantly, they’re mine.

Famous in Kalamazoo: The Art of Finding Happiness Wherever You Are

This blog post begins with a song. Meet one of my most recent creations, “Kalamazoo.”

When I was just a kid

I always wanted to be

Just like pretty rockstars

I saw on MTV

I’d tease up all my hair

Wear my mama’s clothes

Grab the nearest hairbrush

And put on a show

Now that I’m older

I’ve got my own band

I sing my own songs

Guitar in hand

I’m still not a rock star

But I gotta admit

That celebrity kind of life

Just isn’t it

My biggest stage is the local bar

I might still drive a beat-up car

But I’m happy where I are

I don’t wanna be a star

But I’ll keep dreaming like I do

I just wanna be famous in Kalamazoo

I wrote this song a few nights back about my thoughts on fame and whether I even want anything resembling it at this point. You see, as a child, I desperately wanted to be a rock star. I was obsessed! I loved watching documentaries about my favorite musicians and how they rose to the top, and I’d always imagine my own story someday. I felt I was destined for the biggest stages on the planet.

Obviously, it’s 2025, I’m almost 32, and I still have not “made it” in music in any significant way. My closest brushes with fame were touring with a pop-punk band and getting to the third round in American Idol (which wasn’t televised, so it doesn’t even count). I’m not noteworthy by any stretch of the imagination — I don’t even have my own Wikipedia article (yet). I should be disappointed, and maybe I am a little bit.

But a part of me is almost relieved.

My girl Chappell was incredibly vocal about her struggles with fame after her meteoric rise to pop stardom this past year. Here she is, saying how she really feels:

Those are some harsh words, but there’s a truth to it. Fame can be crushing and scary if you’re not prepared. People can be cruel to celebrities online. Unhinged creeps are a real problem. Eminem’s “Stan” may seem like an exaggeration of obsessive fandom, but truth is scarier than fiction. The Bjork stalker sticks out in my mind as one of the most horrifying incidents in music history, and who can forget what happened to poor Selena Quintanilla?

I still want to make music, and to be honest, I still want to be “famous,” just on a much smaller scale. I want to be locally famous. I want to be a prominent figure in the community and music scene. I don’t want the Grammys or the Versace gowns. I just want a city where everyone knows my name, and that’s what my new song is about.

I posted a snippet of the song to social media, and one listener described it as the feeling of being content no matter where life takes you, and I really like that. “Kalamazoo” is kind of my new philosophy toward success. It’s finding happiness and fulfillment wherever you are.

Even if that’s in a little Midwest college town with a silly name.

So I’ll keep dreaming like I do — I just wanna be famous in Kalamazoo.

The App Idea That’s Going to Make Me a Rich Tech Bro (Maybe)

I was already kicking around the idea when this popped up as the daily prompt.

Come up with a crazy business idea.

Hear me out: Tinder for musicians.

Not for dating them (which, I can confirm, is always a bad idea).

Please note that I don’t know a damn thing about developing apps. But the engine seems to be there, you know? You get a person, you swipe right or left depending on if you like them, and if they like you back, you can talk to them. It’s so simple.

So what if we used that same idea for people trying to start bands?

I’m at a crossroads with all of my projects for one simple reason — they all lack a drummer. I’ve tried out several drummers for Wake Up Jamie and no one seemed to fit. My co-frontwoman’s little brother is filling in for now, but it would have been so much easier to just swipe right on a drummer and bring him into the fold that way, right?

I’ve tried luring them in with cheese and it never works.

But imagine a “dating app” for connecting musicians! You’d sign up for this theoretical app and list all of the instruments you can play, as well as your playing level. You could even post videos of yourself playing! Then, you’d scroll through until you find someone you’d want to collaborate with. Once you’ve found your guy or gal, swipe right, and if they’re also down, they’ll also swipe right, similar to Tinder or Bumble. But once you’ve made a match, you can message and coordinate a time to meet up and jam.

Honestly, a social networking site for musicians would fill the same sort of niche. Imagine a MySpace for musicians (okay, MySpace is mostly for musicians these days, but still). You’d add your friends and their bands and be able to follow what they’re doing. Sure, you can already do this with Instagram, but Meta sucks and Zuck eats kittens. Besides, this app would only be for musicians to join. Perhaps later there could be a “fans” option for joining. Honestly, I just really want to see the music scene become more connected.

So those are my crazy business ideas. I’m open to becoming an entrepreneur, but I’d definitely need someone to help with the technical aspects of things.

Because I have no idea how any of this stuff works.

On a related note, if you’re skilled at techy stuff (unlike me), let’s chat.

Technology Marches On: A Musician’s Perspective on AI

This is going to be a controversial post. So hold onto your butts, dear readers.

A few nights ago, Reddit’s r/chapppellroan community was abuzz, and not in a good way. The red-haired pop songstress invited controversy when she asked her fans to create unhinged AI images of her and her cousin.

Also embracing the millennial finger mustache, which I thought we collectively decided to forget about.

The overwhelming response from her fandom was, well, scathing. A lot of fans were disappointed, to say the least.

And they have reason to be. Artificial intelligence is an ethical landmine. I’m not even talking the environmental impact — remember, training a single bot can produce as much CO2 as five cars do in their lifetime. It already has the potential to put visual artists out of work, and honestly, music isn’t far behind. There are already fully AI songs charting. Being wife to a visual artist and a musician myself, you’d think I’d be as strongly against AI technology as Chappell’s fans. And for a long time, you would have been right.

But I’m not anymore. In fact, I think it can be useful — used correctly.

A good musician friend of mine introduced me to a certain software that utilizes AI to create full, complex songs out of, well, whatever you give it. I was hesitant at first, but one night, I was sitting at work bored to death. On a whim, I decided to flesh out some long-abandoned lyrics I’d written and toyed with the software a little. And I was shocked at how well the software could bring my visions to life. It hit me that I could use this technology to break through writer’s block. After all, according to the software’s terms of service, everything you beep-boop is yours to do whatever you want with. I could flesh out entire demos using AI!

And I can repeatedly listen to my own music *like never before!*

Let me be clear — I don’t support simply releasing what the software spits out. I think it’s disingenuous to put something out into the world and claim it’s yours when all you did was punch a few buttons. But I don’t see an issue with using it to glean ideas and visualize what you actually want to create. It’s the same concept for visual artists. Use AI to generate some poses or brainstorm ideas, but at the end of the day, your art is what you create yourself with your chosen medium.

I know it’s really easy for bad actors to use AI for insidious purposes, and I can’t argue that. Sure, making cute realistic neon owl families with AI is innocent enough, but what about Joe Biden and Donald Trump swordfighting with their penises? We have the technology to make a very convincing image of that…atrocity, and publishing it to social media has the potential to damage real people. For that reason, I think there needs to be significantly more legislation surrounding AI (or people are going to develop some really wild ideas about American politics).

Like people believing this man can *actually* shred.

Still, I don’t think AI is an entirely bad thing. It’s a tool like anything else, and every time a new creative tool comes out, people will declare it the enemy of true art. Painter J. M. W. Turner once said “This is the end of Art. I am glad I have had my day.” This quote was spoken in 1839 and is referring to the daguerreotype. But we still have painters to this day. And now that the technology exists, you can’t put the genie back in the lamp. Like it or not, AI will be a huge part of our future. As the Leadership Conference on Civil and Human Rights succinctly put it:

AI has the potential to help our communities, but if [people] aren’t equipped to successfully enter the future of work, they will not reap the benefits.

In other words, now that it exists, it’s a necessary evil, and folks will have to learn how to interact with it one way or another, lest risk being left behind.

I’m not a believer in black and white thinking. I think there are way too many gray areas in our everyday life, and I think the use of AI is one such gray area. There are many ways to use it ethically, and there are just as many ways to misuse it for sinister purposes. At the end of the day, I don’t think Chappell should be cancelled for wanting to experiment with it.

Let’s be real though, is Chappell even *cancelable?*

Use it or don’t, just be excellent to each other. And for the love of God, do not generate that penis-swordfighting image.

(And if you do, please do not show me, thanks.)

Serving Glimmers: How Art and Performance Can Save Lives

I had a realization a while back — one of the reasons I pursued music therapy was because it looked “good.” It seemed like a noble profession, using music to improve people’s lives in a meaningful, measurable way. I’d tell people I was studying music therapy and it was an instant “Ah yes, I can trust her, as she is clearly a good person.” All my boyfriends’ moms loved me for it, and strangers would tell me what I’m doing is so beautiful, so kind. It may just be playing guitar for some kid in a hospital, but to that kid, you’re a hero! And who doesn’t want to be a hero, you know?

I think I have a hero complex, and I think that’s what’s prevented me from jumping headfirst into performance instead. I always wanted to be a hero. I wanted to help people. And if I became a rock star, who would I be helping except my own selfish desires?

The typical perception of pretty much everybody is that performing and the arts are just little “extras.” They’re nothing but fun little distractions, right? No one needs a movie or a comic book or music to live.

QUICK! GET HIM THE LATEST TAYLOR SWIFT ALBUM!

What I’m slowly realizing is that, while we don’t need the arts to live, we absolutely need the arts to really live.

When I moved to Kalamazoo, I searched frantically for work. I would have taken damn near anything, but I wanted to try finding a job involving music. And lo and behold, a trivia company was looking for a music bingo host in my area. And I mean, getting to essentially be part-DJ, part-game show host every night?

I love what I do. It’s a great gig. But for a while, I was feeling like what I did didn’t really matter in the long run. People come into the bar, play music bingo, and leave, going on to live their own lives. I imagine there are probably nurses and firefighters in the audience, and what I do must seem so inconsequential compared to what they deal with every day. And I think those thoughts were starting to wear on me, because I got complaints from one of the bars I work at that I wasn’t “engaging enough.” At first I was angry, because what do you mean I’m not good enough?! But then I realized maybe I’m not giving it my all, and maybe that was because I felt like my job wasn’t important.

So I determined that this show would be my best show yet. I dressed just short of a full drag queen getup, picked some banger categories, and drank enough caffeine to kill a horse. I promised myself I’d socialize the whole time, even if I wanted to sit down. I even moved the chair so I wouldn’t be tempted to just sit down. I was going to give this show my all.

Then, something amazing happened. Sometimes, when you put good vibes out into the universe, the stars align and give you exactly what you need in that moment. What I needed was a glimmer.

Everyone knows what triggers are, but I recently saw that someone coined a term for the opposite phenomenon — glimmers. These are the tiny moments that make life worth living. I experience a glimmer every time I laugh with my wife, or hug my girlfriend, or hear my parents say they’re proud of me. They’re what being alive is all about. They’re little moments of pure joy, which was exactly what I needed.

I walked into the bar to an array of balloons. It was an older couple’s 55th anniversary, and I was going to be hosting music bingo smack dab in the middle of it. Thankfully, the couple was cool about me coming to blast disco at them and even joined in the game, along with many of the other folks in attendance. The older woman who was celebrating her anniversary came up to me and told me that her and her husband’s song was “You’re Still the One” by Shania Twain. And anyone who knows me knows I never miss an opportunity to play Shania Twain.

Tangentially related fact: I was so obsessed with her as a small child, I’d draw pictures of her and not my mom. (Yes, my mom was a little jealous.)

When intermission came, the bar dimmed the lights, leaving only the hanging Christmas lights to illuminate the room. I cued up the song and introduced the couple to the entire bar. Then, everyone gathered around the couple with their phone flashlights. Seeing all of their friends and family surround them in a sea of twinkling lights actually made me tear up a little. The family would remember this moment for the rest of their lives.

A moment I helped make happen.

It’s easy to dismiss entertainment as an opium of the masses, even more so than religion, as Marx famously said. But I’d argue that entertainment is as important as the STEM fields, just in a completely different way. Sure, a particular song may be insignificant to you, but that song could have been the one thing that stopped someone from taking their own life. There’s a reason for this album’s existence. I know people who stay alive because they want to see what happens next in their favorite video game franchise. The arts and media provide those small glimmers that keep people going.

So maybe I will go all-in on being an entertainer and creator. Because someone somewhere needs my music. Someone somewhere needs a fun game night at the local bar. Someone somewhere is reading my writings about mental health and my own personal journey and feels less alone because of it. Artists, writers, musicians, video game developers, game show hosts — they’re all heroes in a unique but important way. Entertainment and art communicate ideas, and more than that, hope.

That’s why I do what I do.

Finding a New Dream (When Your Old Dreams Were Crushed)

Oh hey, another blog post whining about my failed music therapy career. But bear with me!

Although I must confess I don’t have a bear.

This is a happy blog post, okay? Sure, I wasted more than a decade of my life pursuing a dream that ultimately fell through. I won’t lie and say it doesn’t sting. I do get a little weepy when I think about all the beautiful musical moments I’ve had with my past clients. I still remember playing piano for a dying man and his wife and how sweet it was to perform “their song” one last time for them. That’s something I’ll miss about music therapy. What I won’t miss? All the paperwork and clinical BS that comes with. Simply put, I’m not a clinical person. I’m a creator and a performer, first and foremost. Even if I had pursued cardiology as a career, which was my original plan, I probably would have noped out of that life eventually too. It’s for the best that my parents talked me out of pre-med in favor of music.

Becoming the first parents in the history of human civilization to talk their child *out of* being a doctor.

But for the first time in a long time, I feel some degree of hope. Tonight, I submitted my application to the multimedia arts technology degree program at Western Michigan University. It’s been a long time coming. I’ve been toying with getting serious about music production for a while and researching programs to teach me how to be a better mixer and producer. I managed to make a few friends out here who are already in the program and they all highly recommend it. One friend had a buddy who went through the program and became the touring sound guy for Avenged Sevenfold!

Who I admittedly know nothing about, but they’re famous, so that’s something!

So what to do with this degree? Well, my plan before leaving music therapy behind was to create a space for people of all ages and abilities to make music. I think music should be available to everyone regardless of their circumstances or disabilities. I wanted to build a recording studio not for famous artists, but for everyday folks who want to join in the act of creating music. I’m no longer pursuing music therapy, but those dreams never changed. I don’t need a music therapy degree to apply what I’ve learned about working with people of varying abilities in a musical context. I don’t need a music therapy degree to build a neurodivergence-friendly studio. And I don’t need a music therapy degree to help people make music.

My new dream is to start my own recording studio/music school. I want to provide lessons to the community at an affordable price, and I want a space for my students to record and produce their own music with my help. I want to make my studio a sort of “third space” for the community to be able to meet like-minded people and practice their instruments, and maybe even rent out instruments so folks can try things they might not have ordinarily tried. And if my studio catches on, I want to open multiple locations. I want to start a movement of sorts. Lofty, I know, but what’s the point of dreaming if you don’t dream big?

Quitting music therapy was a difficult decision that made me question my entire place in the world. Still, I’m convinced I can still change people’s lives through music, even without a fancy schmancy music therapy degree. Honing the craft of music production will take me one step closer to doing just that. I refuse to die before I’ve made a difference in the world.

And before I’ve built a studio cooler than *this.*

So, here’s to a new dream!

A Fork in the Road: The Three Potential New Careers I Might Pursue

Oh hey, another writing prompt!

List three jobs you’d consider pursuing if money didn’t matter.

It’s funny that this prompt came up right now, because I’ve been doing a lot of soul-searching regarding my career. After all, music therapy didn’t exactly pan out for me, and the more I learn about the field, the more I’m kinda glad it didn’t work out. Apparently burnout is rampant and no other professionals take it seriously, from what I’ve gleaned from r/musictherapy on Reddit. But for most of my life, if you asked me what I wanted to be, the answer would have been a resounding “music therapist.” It was my entire personality. It was my destiny, or so I believed.

Now, I’m scrambling trying to figure out a Plan B. I didn’t have a backup plan. In my desperate attempt to grasp for alternative career paths, I tried to think of what drew me to music therapy in the first place. Was it helping people? I mean, I’ve worked pretty extensively as a caregiver, and while it feels good to do good, I still didn’t feel completely fulfilled in those jobs. Maybe it was the respect. I could see myself as a celebrated professor or researcher in the field. But in all honesty, music therapists don’t really get a lot of respect at any level (also according to r/musictherapy). That left just one potential reason — I need to make music.

Music is my entire life. I don’t know who I’d be without it. It was my first language. And all I truly want out of a career (and life in general) is to create it. And so I began to brainstorm other careers I could pursue that would allow me to play music, or at least be in close proximity to it. These are the ideas I’m currently batting around.

1. Luthier

l’ll admit this one’s farfetched. I’m not a crafty person or a handy person, so making a thing from scratch is a very intimidating prospect. Still, the idea of building and fixing guitars is attractive to me. It’s a very male-dominated field, so being a female (well, femme-by) luthier would make me cool and unique, right? There’s a luthier school an hour and a half away from where I live now, but that would be a ridiculous commute, so I’d have to either live in the dorms or get an apartment out there. My poor wife has been through enough with the Fort Wayne saga, though, and the tuition makes it prohibitively expensive.

2. Music Producer

This is probably the thing I want to do most, if I’m honest with myself. This is a purely creative job. I’d simply be tasked with making music and helping other people make music. I’ve already been doing some producing, although I’m by no means an expert. The local university has a multimedia arts technology degree that seems promising, should I want to hone the craft. One of my friends has a buddy who went that route and ended up touring with Avenged Sevenfold as their sound guy. That being said, that program also costs money I don’t have, not to mention getting the space and equipment I’d need to open my own recording studio. And then I’d need clients, which means I’d have to advertise, which means I need more money. And if I don’t get clients at all, I’m screwed.

3. Professor

When I was pursuing music therapy, my ultimate goal was to become a professor and researcher. After all, I thrive in academia, and I’ve always enjoyed teaching. If I go this route, I’d likely enter the graduate composition program at the local university, and eventually earn a doctorate. I love the idea of being Dr. Salisbury. I want the respect, the stability of being tenured, the freedom to study cool shit and make money doing it. But alas, this program also requires money.

I guess if money didn’t matter, I’d pursue all three of these at different points in my life, maybe go the producer route first and subsequently start my academic career, then learn the craft of building guitars as a retiree. I still (hopefully) have many years ahead of me. But realistically, I’m going to choose one to focus on, due to financial constraints. Unfortunately money does matter.

Maybe I’ll start a GoFundMe.

What do you think I should be? Leave your ideas in the comments!

Let Me Sing You the Song of My People (Or, How Rock Music Makes Being British Kind of Cool)

I remember the shock when I got the results back for my 23 and Me test (that I drunkenly ordered back when I did drink).

So I’m pretty British. I was expecting that much, considering my government surname is Salisbury and I don’t think there exists a more British last name. (Except maybe like, Buckingham, or Worcestershire. Is that someone’s last name?) But I wasn’t expecting the sheer amount of Britishness I ended up being. Hardly anyone I know has gotten more than 90 percent of a particular ethnicity, and here I am more British than the late queen herself (probably).

Was I a little disappointed at first? Maybe. It felt like the most basic ethnic background I could have possibly gotten. We don’t speak a fun language that isn’t English, we’re so white the sun tries to kill us anytime we walk outside, and all we’re really known for is tea and trying to take over the world (and fucking things up for like, a bunch of other people in the process). And like, soccer and shit, but I never cared for sports. Why do I wanna watch a bunch of people I’ll never meet play a game? Wouldn’t you rather play the game yourself? I mean, I wouldn’t want to play personally, but that’s only because I suck at anything that involves silly concepts like “teams” and “balls.”

My point is, I didn’t think there was a whole lot to be proud of. Why couldn’t I have been born, well, anything else?

There had to be something cool about being British. It couldn’t all be earl grey and imperialism.

And then it hit me.

The thing I’m most passionate about.

Music!

What aspects of your cultural heritage are you most proud of or interested in?

It’s well-known that Black Americans invented rock and roll, but the British…well, I can’t say they perfected it, since, well, Black Americans also perfected it. But we Brits had a hand in codifying it into the behemoth of a genre it is today. The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, The Who, Pink Floyd, Queen, Led Zeppelin, Deep Purple, Black Sabbath, Fleetwood Mac (well, partially at least)— it’s probably easier to list legendary rock bands that aren’t British.

So how did Britain become such a hotbed for rock music?

Thankfully, your favorite armchair ethnomusicologist is here to break it all down.

As this very well-written article explains, after World War II, Britain was pretty beat up and down bad. But in the 1950s, American rock music infiltrated the tiny country and re-energized a whole generation of folks. As the writer puts it, “…rock ’n’ roll arrived like a form of deliverance, an alien transmission that electrified British youth, literally driving them wild.” The Brits didn’t have any connection to the blues and folk that initially influenced the budding genre, so up-and-coming musicians had to rely on the records they were consuming to learn the ways of rock. At first, artists tried to mask their Britishness to fit in better with the American musicians they were learning from, but eventually, these artists began incorporating their own culture into their music. For example, it was uniquely British repression and rage that fed into subgenres like punk.

I found it strangely comforting to research British influence on rock music. Reading this stuff makes me feel like I’m part of something bigger than myself, that I actually do have a heritage I can be proud of. Although I’m only a second-generation British-American and have never visited the isles myself, I feel a connection to my ancestry through rock’s storied history. It’s kind of cool that music is what ties me to the land my family originated from, since music has been my entire life.

So, it’s actually kind of cool to be 93 percent British after all. (But like, I could live without the sun trying to kill me.)

“Dude, Can You Play a Song With a F**king Beat?!”: Why Pop Music Needs a Revival

I’ll admit it — I’m a poptimist. I was converted back in seventh grade, when I first heard the Swedish pop duo Roxette.

What’s with Swedes and perfect pop music?

Prior to Roxette, I was firmly in the “rockist” camp. This music journalism term refers to the belief that rock music is superior to pop music in artfulness and authenticity. That was one-hundred percent me at the ripe old age of twelve. You’d think I was a grizzled boomer man instead of an innocent millennial girl judging solely by my music taste. I preferred Boston to Britney Spears, Led Zeppelin to Lindsay Lohan, and ELO to whatever *NSYNC was doing at the time. I looked down upon my fellow tweens for their shallow taste in music, convinced my favorite artists were leagues ahead of theirs.

Then, I heard “Listen to Your Heart.” Not the bullshit DHT version (I will stand by that opinion). The real version by Roxette. I remember being taken aback by the bombast, the emotion, the sheer magnetism of the hook. It had everything I liked about my rock music, but with a pop veneer. I had to investigate, which led me to dig deep in their discography. Their songs were so…catchy. It lit something within me that’s been burning ever since. There had to be an art to creating pop music, because Roxette had mastered that art.

I then fell down an even deeper rabbit hole of pop music, uncovering songwriters like Max Martin, Kara DioGuardi, and (unfortunately) Dr. Luke, who’d go on to shape my entire worldview as a songwriter in my own right. I challenged myself with creating music that was as catchy as theirs. This elusive concept of “catchiness” became my lifelong obsession. To this day, I get a twinge of glee when someone says they get a song of mine stuck in their head. That’s always been my goal, and while I’m still a rock girlie at heart, my love of pop tints all the music I touch.

So why have I fallen out of love with pop music in recent years?

I initially chalked it up to aging. After all, studies have shown that your taste in music solidifies after 30, which is why your mom still listens to hair metal (which, to be fair, is an underrated genre). But there had to be more to it. Since the dawn of popular music, old folks have complained that the younger generation’s new music was too loud, too brash, or too risqué. The Silent Generation complained about Boomers and their heavy metal, the Boomers complained about Gen X and their grunge, and Gen X complained about Millennials and their rap. But I found I wasn’t offended by the pop music the younger generation was putting out. In fact, it was offensively inoffensive, too bland and soft to really stand out. It wasn’t brazen or daring enough, nor was it, dare I say, catchy.

I recently went to a karaoke night at a bar that’s frequented by Gen Z patrons. After all, I live in a college town, so many of the local hot spots are hangouts for younger folks. Although I still look fairly young for my age, I was almost certainly one of the oldest people there. You’d think karaoke night would be the time to sing your favorite party anthems, but to be honest, the song selections were a total snoozefest. One sad slow song after another. I had to leave, it was just getting me down.

When did pop music get so…somber?

I blame the almighty Lorde.

In the early 2010s, we were still experiencing a boom in silly mindless party songs, which, while not exactly lyrically groundbreaking, were sheer poppy fun. We had guys like LMFAO creating bops like “Party Rock Anthem” and ladies like Kesha and Lady Gaga with their array of club bangers. Then, the “Smells Like Teen Spirit” of Gen Z hit and wiped out that scene as fast as Nirvana had dissipated the hair metal that came before. That song was “Royals,” and it set the bar for everything that came after it. Suddenly, pop wasn’t “fun” anymore. It was much more subdued. That’s not necessarily a bad thing, and “Royals” is certainly not a bad song, but it made “avocadas and bananaes” the standard for female vocals, and — worst of all — it killed off the big choruses and catchy hooks I loved.

My wife and I have a joke about the trend of sad repetitive trappy songs. It sounds like musical Xanax, we always say. And it’s true. One of my favorite newer artists, The Band CAMINO, has a song I really love called “Roses.” “Why you wanna be a sad boy?” they ask in the first verse. The whole song ponders why we as a society have to be so sad all the time when you can just “stop and smell the (fuckin’) roses.” I get it — life sucks sometimes, and then you die. But pop music is supposed to be an escape from all that negativity. There’s a time and a place for sad bops, but when all you’re being served is sad bops, it gets a little tiring.

I think that’s the real reason it’s been harder for me to get into recent pop. We’re still living in a post-“Royals” world, but I do have hope that things are turning around. This summer, the newest generation of pop girls set the world ablaze. Olivia Rodrigo is bringing rock-tinged pop back to the charts. Charli XCX engineered an entire movement with her Brat album (and got a nod from President Obama of all people!). Sabrina Carpenter’s newest song has been on repeat for me this past week, and I don’t foresee it leaving my Spotify “on repeat” playlist for a while. And don’t even get me started on Chappell Roan. What we need is a pop music revolution. A femininomenon, if you will.

So let’s stop being sad and play a song with a fucking beat!