Sometimes I remember that I’m a musician. I forget and then remember again. I liken it to realizing that you have an extra 500 bucks that you’ve been hiding while you’re playing Monopoly. You knew that you had it all along, but you rediscovered it and you appreciate its value all over again.
I find that I do this with music a lot. It’s not from a lack of playing the piano or a shortage of music in my life. If anything it’s the opposite. I’m saturated with notes and melodies. Lyrics and hooks. Rhythms and chord progressions. I’m bilingual. (And if you count my three years of high school Spanish, I’m up to 2.5 languages.) Yet when you do something week in and week out, it can get exhausting. It becomes a chore. Even something very powerful can be sapped of its strength when you lose focus of the goal.
I’ve learned that I’m not so impressed with creativity for the sake of being creative anymore. Maybe I’ve grown cynical or envious because I’m not as talented as others. Perhaps I’ve realized that I will never be John Mayer or Chris Martin of Coldplay. I just won’t. I wouldn’t want to be.
I used to be drawn to the glitter of the musician’s life—on the road, meeting people, doing what you love, and seeing the world. But now I have an agenda. Everyone does. And if you think you don’t, your agenda is probably you.
There are things that music is and isn’t. It can be powerful, moving, joyful, motivating, captivating, sad, and generally communicative (with or without lyrics). But that doesn’t mean it is always used for good. Plenty of catchy music with an empty message is being used to motivate people to do bad things. Sure it’s motivating, but for the wrong things.
In Luke 12, Jesus says, “From everyone who has been given much, much will be demanded; and from the one who has been entrusted with much, much more will be asked.”
As I stood and watched The Flaming Lips play in Des Moines a couple of weeks ago, I couldn’t help but wonder what Wayne Coyne is thinking. I surveyed the spectacle as he danced around on stage with a dozen high groupies in Teletubbie costumes. “What is the point of this?” I asked myself. I assumed it was about fun. Having fun in whatever way that means. If that means having sex in the middle of 10,000 people, go for it. If that means screaming the F-word and spouting about George Bush for a while, why not? Everything’s an option in this field.
I looked on and thought about how sad the whole scene was. I have nothing against Wayne Coyne personally; it’s just that he doesn’t know any more about truth than you or I. He has no secret source of knowledge or wisdom to share. He has nothing. Money. Drugs. Music. Girls. Everything and yet nothing. You can be the ugliest guy in the world, but if you’re the drummer in a band, suddenly you’re lookin’ good. Does the band KISS ring a bell?
Why does music so often come with these ‘perks’? Because it’s powerful. It moves people. Affects them. We relate to it. We have songs for any mood or moment. From our wedding night to our funeral, there is a playlist ready to be heard.
So I’m a musician and that matters. I’ve chosen to give what I have to God and not worry about what Coyne says or anyone else. It’s not that being a musician matters, but that I’m using the tools I’ve been given for good. I’m not ashamed to tell others about Christ. If that’s through writing, so be it. If I get to sing a tune, that’s a bonus. Either way, I have an agenda. At least I admit it. So does your favorite band. Next time you turn on your iPod, see if you can catch it. They have an agenda. So do you. What’s yours?
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