Back in high school, we used to have an annual school competition, generically called Battle Of The Bands. I had always been a fan of the shows even before I was in high school. I was attending each BOTB even as a bight-eyed, bushy-tailed middle schooler. Ever since I went to the first one in '05, I knew I was going to be on that stage within a few years. I didn't care how, when, or who I was up there with. I was determined to play my music loud to an auditorium full of teenagers who would think I was totally awesome for making all this cutting edge music right in front of them. Everyone would respect me as the super talented musician who looked really hot standing in front of a table of drum machines and cables.
So it's just turned the new year of 2009, demo CD's are due soon, very soon. I turned in the 7 track demo of ruddy, blippy musical compositions which I had labored over for an unnecessary amount of time. Rumor has it that the students and teachers responsible for assessing the submissions had a good laugh at the novel, ambiguous, and entirely unfamiliar aural productions. Never the mind, I thought, it's gunna sound so cool live. So within a couple weeks, it's showtime (yes, I somehow made the cut, okay, something about a lack of interest in other applicants or something) and I find myself on that stage in front of about 500 high schoolers, judgement pathos full throttle. I'm wondering, "The fuck have I gotten myself into, these people don't even listen to this type of music". Nevertheless, I stand there and hammer out my 15 minute set of abstract, but danceable beats. I am met with a half-assed, it's-proper-etiquette-to-applaud-every-act applause. I am even more distressed by the lack of response and admiration upon my return to school the next day (not to mention a less-than-desirable ranking by the judges of the Battle).
Fast forward to 2011, and I am back with a vengeance. Two years of lackluster BOTB's, it's my senior year and, dammit, I'm about to be cool. I am much more prepared this time around and apparently electronic music has become vaguely acceptable to the masses now. The days leading up to my third and final BOTB were filled with considerable anticipation of my performance. "Oh yeah, I heard about it from last year, you play that oontz oontz oontz type stuff, right?" "My friends told me it's cool to experience high," "Well, it's better than all the cover bands,".
So this is it, the show is tonight. Here lies ahead the grand finale to my journey of relevance and artistry (lol jk, it's just high school). I take the stage and am met with an unbelievable roar from the crowd. I look up in shock only to find that the entire audience is an ocean of freshly cracked glowsticks. A smile terrorizes my face and I quickly give up on trying to hide it. This means they like it, right? Hopefully? Anyways, I start the intro sequence and slowly filter in the minimal synthesizer arpeggio. The next quarter hour is a game of charades between the stage and the house. Every high and low in the music is dynamically mirrored by my spectators. Adrenaline ramps off of climaxes and pools in breakdowns. I have made these people my puppets. I bring the music to a crescendo and end my set. Everyone explodes into fantastic applause and I bow to my peers. The rest of my night is guided by the strongest high I had yet to experience; a high of accomplishment that no chemistry could simulate.
After the following week of admiration and mix CD requests, it had become abundantly clear to me that what I had initially wanted had always been present. I was never really in it for acceptance. I never cared about getting into the top three. I never wanted the shoddy $100 reward. I wanted that sense of knowing that I had invoked a memory in these people. I created a feeling that they would never have experienced otherwise. I had efficiently shared a strong piece of my passion to the people I had known for years and dealt with everyday. That was something priceless. As long as I know that, years from now, someone will think back about that guy that played that wild set and reflect upon it, in a good or bad way, doesn't matter which. It is so easy to get wrapped up in the objectivity of things, and it is wise to get subjective. Let things go with the flow, be okay with the way things are, and realize that you will get what you want, just not always in the format or means that you anticipated.
As a parallel, there is an episode of Spongebob Squarepants in which the squirrel character named Sandy makes a decision to return to her home of Texas. Supposedly, this is in order to reattain a feeling of comfort and belonging. As she proceeds to take her penultimate exit, she finally becomes aware of everyone's attempts to keep her in Bikini Bottom. Through this, she realizes that what she was looking for had been with her the whole time. It was the crisis that brought things into perspective for her and made her realize that a relocation was not going to reaffirm her existence, but rather a simple reassessment.
