I DON’T DO BRILLIANT

Since I was a little boy I was pretty bright. “Resourceful” is probably more accurate. I was observant, latched onto things, and made the most of what I was given.

From a very young age my dad taught me all of the construction basics (the photo shows just how “very young”). I built a working wooden roller coaster in the backyard when I was 10 or 11. By the time I was in the 8th grade I built a theatrical lighting system complete with control board, all from parts bought at the local hardware store. People said that it was brilliant.

My mom was a rising professional musician in LA before I came along. I learned from her a strong love of music and inherited some fine musical genes. I was able to teach myself the guitar, learn songs by ear, and write my own songs when I was 14 - before YouTube to be sure. People said it was brilliant. Others said I was a musical genius.

I WAS BRILLIANT, AND A MUSICAL GENIUS

These kind affirmations might have been the toughest words to live up to as I grew into an adult and throughout my career. Mostly because I actually believed them. Why would I not? Full grown adults who know what brilliance is would say it time after time. I am not saying that these words were harmful. Simply impossible for me to live up to. After all, Mozart was a musical genius. I don’t remember composing my first symphony when I was 8 years old. I’m 56 now and still haven’t even written my first one.

Looking back, these people simply were being overly kind (or they had a very low threshold for brilliance and genius). I knew perfectly well at the time the social difference between giving a strong compliment to make someone feel good, versus saying something that is just not true. Even considering this I admit that I bought into it. I was convinced that I was actually doing brilliant things. Throughout high school I was able to do many things that people twice my age weren’t doing. I wired a new retail and warehouse building when I was 16. I could barely drive, but I was supplying heavy machinery, commercial lighting and more with their proper voltage and amperage requirements for an entire building. I was figuring it out as I went along, but it kept passing the inspections. This certainly fulled my belief that I was doing brilliant things. Not true. I was simply resourceful - perhaps a little gifted.

On the music side I didn’t actually believe the “musical genius” bit, but I did buy in that I was brilliant. This led me to starting bands, only to treat my band-mates like they were second class. And a cover band wouldn’t do - My band was going to play my own amazing songs. Here’s how my first band ended:

The lead guitar player called me up on New Years morning. “This just isn’t going anywhere,” he said. “We’ve been at this for a long time” (we’d been together 9 months or so) “and we should probably just throw the towel in”. That was it. Then the next week I hear through friends that the three of them started their own band. The reality hit me they had just kicked me out of my own band. They apparently (and correctly) thought that I took all the fun out of it. After all, I was obsessed with trying to build something brilliant - something that we had to pour everything we’ve got into. They probably just thought that a fun rock band on the side is how you met girls. It was my first failure at achieving brilliance that I can remember. It also started a long trend where my drive for brilliance took all the fun out of things for those around me. This was for better and for worse and probably deserves its own blog.

NOT BRILLIANT. BUT NOT FOR A LACK OF TRYING.

There’s a thousand other stories of me trying, and failing to achieve brilliance between then and now. I’ve spent a career trying to accomplish brilliant things. I believe that I achieved some really nice goals. People I really respect have given me high acclaim for my songs, record production, construction projects, building a Tesla-powered Classic BMW, marketing campaigns for notable clients, software to reduce work hours dramatically. But when I look at my body of work, I can’t really find legitimate brilliance in any of it. Let’s call it “nice solid work”.

What I do see is the attempt at brilliance in all of it. That’s where those early affirmations might have paid off. I believed them, so I had to live up to them in everything I did going forward. It wasn’t a problem when certain projects didn’t meet the expectation. After all, I knew that even Mozart wrote some arguably forgettable pieces. So when I would fall flat at something I would simply think of it as an exception and expect to hit it with the next project.

SO EVERYONE GET’S A TROPHY THEN?

Does this mean that I’m a fan every kid getting a participation trophy? I’m going to stay out of that arguement. It didn’t exist when I was a kid. I got no trophies when my team lost. I do know that my kids felt really proud when they received theirs for participating in a losing cause. Perhaps my early affirmations were nothing more than participation trophies. I do see one big difference: None of my friends were being told they were brilliant geniuses. It’s possible that I believed it because it was unique to me. Imagine my 9-year-old daughter getting the only participation trophy for her team. That’s something I’d love to have seen on the neighborhood soccer field, but it would have probably meant even more to her if it had gone that way.

AM I SATISFIED WITH NOT BEING BRILLIANT?

I think that I finally am - and I mean finally. For years I would struggle when I would experience other people’s truly brilliant works. A song, a design, an idea, etc. I’m not proud of this. I would experience something truly amazing and only be frustrated that it was far better than the best thing I could do. It sure took away from my enjoying a lot of wonderful things. Not always, but many times. I’ve finally settled into knowing that my striving to do amazing things has served me very well. There are always going to be people better, smarter, or more creative than me. In fact, It took a long time, but I’ve learned that surrounding myself with those people only helps me get that much closer to succeeding in that life-long pursuit. My wife taught it to me first, then I slowly let it spread to the teams I’ve built.

Another thing that helps me be okay with not being brilliant is that my skills run very wide. I will never be the best bass guitar player, for instance. I gave that up long ago when I realized the best musicians I know run very deep, where I run wide. I am grateful to be fairly skilled at more things than I can count. The saying is completely true when it tells me that I can therefore be a “master of none”.

And I can live with that. But it will never stop me from trying.