I knew sxsw was over when they said Benson Boone is the future of music

Oh yes I'm journaling publicly now

image by Shannon Marks

The intense scene of sxsw shoved everything about the industry in my face at full speed. The people with drive, the people who lack it, the good bands, the bad bands, the people with their foot perpetually in a door, and the people who will never have the chance to see beyond the light underneath what will never open for them. I saw some people just there for fun but mostly there to find something helpful to keep going. Churning in a shrink wrapped hole destined to pop and none of us knowing when and only the strange feeling in our stomachs.

It’s beautiful to know you’re not special in this feeling. Tens of thousands of people were in the sweaty, dusty streets of Austin begging for someone else to love their songs too. Watching everyone plead in close proximity was thrilling and sad and the tired desperation tasted like bbq and lime juice.

Georgia, my manager, called sxsw ending. It felt like the end. Every day seems to feel that way right now but the buzzing of everyone’s madness in a small area made it all feel too real. Everything you dislike and are fascinated by the music industry is slammed in your face with a stamp and a cover charge.

When I was standing in the heat feeling my underwear dig into my hips, holding a $12 Modelo, thinking I can’t even afford new underwear so why am I here? Why am I holding this? Why can’t my body handle stress by losing weight instead of gaining it because that’s what this industry wants? I had to pause, drown out the fifteenth Strokes cover band noise, and think about the whys of the dream I’m pursuing. Is it still a dream if I want to treat it like a job? Is it supposed to feel whimsical because it just feels like a small business constantly on the verge of bankruptcy. I didn’t know I would want these things I’m trying so hard to get. Or rather, I didn’t know I would need them even though things I’ve been told are necessary don’t have a standard of usefulness they once had. It feels like most industry people don’t want to see a new band unless they’ve already heard of them. So how are they supposed to find and sign something genuinely new that hasn’t grown up in the generational wealth pond?

It’s draining to be another musician who grew up poor bashing people who grew up rich. It doesn’t change anything and it certainly doesn’t help your career. Bashing other bands. I’m all about opinions and plan on throwing some on this substack here and there, but I don’t think being hurtful on the internet does any good. Not sure what does, but I know that doesn’t. Jealousy is second to anger in terms of exhaustion. It’s just not worth it to me anymore and I wish I could take back the years of time wasted feeling it.

When I watched bands sing their hearts out to five people on a patio, I thought god aren’t we lucky? To want this so badly. To feel passion. I’ve lost loved ones, trust in people I once kept close, and parts of myself I will work the rest of my life on finding again. But with every loss, I’ve grown more lucid. I see what I want more. I guess I’ve always cared, but it takes time and experience to understand why and what exactly can be done with that.

So what do I want? Since I was a kid, I found that the one thing I could do to help things settle down, was comic or musical relief. When my brother scared the shit out of me, I would combat it with a joke or my guitar. I guess I’m grateful that I have a way to combat my fear and help others too sometimes. I tended to become an in-between pitstop for communication between family members and friends. I found that playing music was a place for people to meet and sometimes songs were a way to find some understanding. I just want my music to be a safe place for people.

A part of me undeniably does it just for me too. The stage is the one place I feel safe. It’s the one place I trust myself fully. When people take away your trust and you continue to stay close to them, you start to lose yourself and your own sense of safety in your mind. But I’ve always been quick, and now much quicker, to let go of anyone who can take away that trust when I’m making music. I trust my bandmates and producer fully. I trust them so much I’m learning how to trust myself again. I can’t thank Spencer, Gus, Tristan, and Jack for their understanding. People can’t know themselves until they let people in like this. You can hear it in the music we are making now.

After the infinitely complicated pain of letting go, music is sacred. It’s the closest thing I’ve come to understanding or feeling for anything divine. Some people lose it all and find god. I slowly lost people and steadily found myself digging deeper into what music can do. Why does it bring peace to us?

Most people are too tired to go to shows. Too broke. But when they do, they deserve something worth getting out of the house and spending money on. I care about giving them something. The symbiotic relationship of live music is necessary and I’m grateful to have the capacity to make a special connection with people in that way. It’s the most honest give and take and most times no one feels empty after.

We are all here in a little bubble trying to find and make some kind of safety in feeling what the world makes us all feel right now. Everyone is scared. Music can’t get rid of that, but it can ease the pain. We can’t and won’t give up. I think SXSW flew too close to the sun. It got too big and lost its intentions. Stepping away from the hard fixation on making it, I see how close I lost myself in trying to make it there. When it’s all business, you forget that you’re doing what you love. I’m grateful to have seen its chaos, confront my own, and be back in trusty old Chicago today with my dream intact and my feet on the crusty, muddy ground by Humboldt Park.

P.s. Can Austinites stop trying to tell Chicagoans they have great tacos there? Bitch, same and I’m going to get one now:)

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