Kicking Failure in the Face

I had come to the realization recently that I do not, in reality, know how to fail well.

I feel like that’s something of a redundancy because failure isn’t really something you’re supposed to do “well.” In fact, I’d argue it’s the one thing that is inherently and intentionally understood as bad.

My career in music has had several highs and lows. The one constant, however, is that I am lauded for my capabilities as a musician and a songwriter. While I am proud of my accomplishments, I say this with no hubris. I feel as though universal praise, especially in a closed-circuit ecosystem like Pittsburgh, has been more of a curse than a blessing.

I wish I got more feedback as a whole on the work that I made. Especially early on, when the guidance of elders and local music staples could’ve shaped my growth positively. I get a sting every time someone in Pittsburgh says a work of art is “great,” because it can mean something or it can not. Depending on the mouthpiece for the feedback, the praise can of course be genuine. Alternatively, it can be a defense mechanism, within which an artist can hide their true feelings in an attempt to secure good standing. Good favor that in turn becomes future opportunities.

I can’t fault most artists for their sometimes undeserved praise; it’s ultimately about survival. If I am known as someone who openly gives critique to works that are locally praised, then I will potentially assume a negative reputation.

I am guilty of this myself. Unless you specifically request criticism, I am naught to give you any. I don’t enjoy unsolicited advice, and thus do not dish it out. I am also deathly afraid of losing a connection through some critique I give; I never wish to invalidate an artist’s work or progress.