To the extent that I love it, I own it
So, first order of business today: the Hanson concert was awesome!
Okay, so having to stand in a tiny spot in a huge crowd for 6+ hours straight after walking a mile barefoot wasn’t quite so fun. (There were three bloody opening acts. Have you ever had your feet cramp from standing for too long? Yeah…). But they made it worth it in the end.
This concert reminded me of why, out of all the bands I really like, Hanson remains the only group that inspires me. Maybe it’s because they’re my age…I dunno. Doesn’t really matter. I watch them play onstage and I can see how much they love what they do. (And how much their fans love them).
Most bands have a mix of hardcore fans, lukewarm fans, oh-I-heard-them-on-the-radio-once fans, and people dragged to the show by other fans. Hanson only ever really had lovers and haters, at least in the public sphere. To an extent, this is still true, although I think most of the haters have long since given up. They are no longer the huge sensation they were in 1997, so the fans they have now are the ones that still believed in their music even after they dropped out of the spotlight. (And their fans are not all female…I saw more than a few guys rocking out Saturday night). There’s no way in hell you’re going to drag a ho-hum person to a Hanson concert.
Their shows are amazing because nobody that doesn’t LOVE the band is going to be there.
Other concerts I’ve been to, the band plays to you, to entertain you, and it’s an enjoyable experience. There are moments when something magical happens, and the energy of the band and the audience are absolutely in sync…where the band is playing better and harder than they could ever do alone because they’re feeding off the crowd’s energy, and everyone in the crowd gets pumped from the music and forgets that they’ve been on their feet for 6 hours and that they’re exhausted. But it’s moments. The rest of the time you’re kind of just listening, or singing, and generally enjoying yourself. (Or, if you happen to be in the middle of a mosh pit, you’re busy trying not to get drop-kicked).
Saturday night the band and the crowd were plugged into each other the whole time. It was all kinds of intense. There was so much energy in that place that when I walked out of there, I was neither tired nor hungry (though I was so sore I could barely walk). Actually, I didn’t even wake up hungry the next morning, despite the fact that I hadn’t eaten anything since midday before. Residual energy? I dunno.
Interestingly, I walked out of there wanting to write, because that’s my passion. Just from a two hour glimpse of those three guys living theirs. It made me start thinking about creativity, and art, and the connection between those who make the art and those who appreciate it. There is an interesting paradox that happens when your work is admired, and when it starts affecting and changing other people’s lives. It’s still yours, but to an extent, it belongs to the fans, too.
Listening to Hanson playing live last night, I was aware of this sense of ownership. To the extent that I loved each song, I owned that song in that moment. It was mine. I cannot take it from them, but they cannot keep it from me…nor would they want to. Anyone who creates art wants, on some level, for other people to own it, to make it theirs. Artists are idea whores. We willingly, eagerly, offer up our passion and our souls to the world, and we love it when our ideas get owned. (Note: Owned, not stolen. There’s a difference.) Every artist wants to make art that changes people. In the same vein, I would argue that Twilight no longer belongs exclusively to Stephanie Meyer, or Harry Potter to J. K. Rowling, or Middle Earth to Tolkien. Edward and Harry and Gandalf live in the hearts of every person who has been touched by these characters.
Believe it or not, the book Atlas Shrugged is riddled with this very idea, and I think it’s one of the few things that Ayn Rand hit dead on. The players in that story are seen as selfish bastards by the rest of the world, seemingly because they refuse to share their ideas, their intellect, their passion with the rest of the world. But they willingly share these things with each other, and it has to do with the difference between thievery and ownership. The world wanted to take what Rearden and John Galt and D’Anconia and Dagny offered, but they didn’t want to own it. They didn’t want to understand it.
Anyone can steal an idea. But to own an idea, you have to be worthy of it. I’ve never respected the really rabid fans of any popular phenomenon…you know, the ones who spend all their time following a band’s tour bus around the country, or spend all their money on paraphernalia, or talk about nothing else. Those to whom a touch of a famous person’s hand, a picture, an autograph, or a rare collectible becomes the currency by which they measure their worth. I say that the way you become worthy of something you love is to use it to fuel your own passions. You will never truly appreciate another person’s creation until you become a creator. I love Hanson’s music. How do I know? Because I want to write stories to that music. I don’t have to have every damn piece of music they’ve ever written to get it. Their passion fuels mine.
However, hell hath no fury like an artist whose work has been stolen or appropriated by someone else. That’s because when someone steals an idea, all they really want is the fame, or admiration, or appreciation that goes with it. They don’t understand the idea itself…in fact, sometimes a thief can be downright afraid of the idea he or she has stolen, because deep down, they know they aren’t worthy of it. I take ideas from other artists all the time…but I use them to create other ideas, and I make them my own, and I gladly own up to where the original idea came from. I have no reason NOT to, because I know my work is equally as worthy as the source. They own it because they created it, I own it because I’ve made it mine. I hope my ideas are good enough that others will own what I’ve made someday, and make it theirs.
It’s funny, I’ll go to a concert like this and, like any fangirl, I hope to get the chance to meet the band personally. I had plenty of chances Saturday. Before every concert, Hanson organizes a barefoot walk to provide shoes, through TOMS, and other aid for people in Africa. For every person who takes the walk, they donate a dollar to the cause. And yes, Hanson participates…they are out there, in the sun, the rain, the snow, whatever, walking with their fans. It’s a really awesome thing they do.
http://www.hanson.net
http://www.takethewalk.net
So I had the shot to go up and say hey to one of them…but when it came down to it, I just…couldn’t. (Okay, so the bleeding toe and the 90 degree weather and the fact that everyone was walking really fast didn’t help). I start feeling like, what am I going to say to them that’s more interesting or noteworthy than what anyone else might say? A lot of that is natural shyness, but the other part is the one that wants to be able to say, “Hey, I just got a book published, and I used a song of yours as inspiration…” Not to brag, but just to have some tangible evidence of the oft expressed sentiment: “You guys inspire me.” Any fan can say that. I want it to be true.
I’m starting to believe that this is what I truly liked about Ayn Rand’s work…she understood this concept, if nothing else. (She might not have thought about it in such terms, but she got it.)
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