Going Solo (Look, No Hans).
I
miss collaboration, which is something I haven’t had in my creative life for quite some time.
While I’ve always been someone who generates ideas - be for it songs when I was in a band and music was my priority, or comedy for the various shows, sketches and stand-up I’ve written on my own or as a double act - I’ve always felt at my best when I’m part of a collective. For one, it’s more enjoyable to work with someone else, for both the social aspect and for the sense of a shared input. It’s also nice to not to be solely responsible for whatever it is you’re doing, and to have someone to bounce off when you do it: without this, it can be hard to find the motivation to see things through.
Unfortunately, I haven’t had that shared input for quite a while. On one hand, it hasn’t stopped me; I’ve written three solo shows over the past three years, kept my blog up almost daily for nearly five, and have built the comedy club up to the point where it consistently hosts big acts; but it’s also left me feeling quite lonely, when so much of starts and ends with me.
Being in a band and in a double act are very similar; there’s a feeling of support that's unlike anything else, plus a shared sense of purpose. When Big Day Out were at our best, for example, we felt unstoppable; something extra-special kicked in to make us greater than the sum of our parts (though to be fair, this could be the confidence of youth).
Having said that, even though I wrote the lion’s share of our songs back then, I still felt desperately unconfident in my ability, while also having total faith in my band as a whole; it was a fine line to tread, and one I still tread now with my comedy. nearly eighteen years later (how the hell did that time pass?).
I guess that’s how most creative people feel: teetering somewhere between having faith and feeling faithless. That’s why collaboration's great if the person's right, as you’re not the only one riding that roller-coaster, to use a clunky metaphor; I could have found a better analogy if someone was writing this with me now.
While I’ve always been someone who generates ideas - be for it songs when I was in a band and music was my priority, or comedy for the various shows, sketches and stand-up I’ve written on my own or as a double act - I’ve always felt at my best when I’m part of a collective. For one, it’s more enjoyable to work with someone else, for both the social aspect and for the sense of a shared input. It’s also nice to not to be solely responsible for whatever it is you’re doing, and to have someone to bounce off when you do it: without this, it can be hard to find the motivation to see things through.
Unfortunately, I haven’t had that shared input for quite a while. On one hand, it hasn’t stopped me; I’ve written three solo shows over the past three years, kept my blog up almost daily for nearly five, and have built the comedy club up to the point where it consistently hosts big acts; but it’s also left me feeling quite lonely, when so much of starts and ends with me.
Being in a band and in a double act are very similar; there’s a feeling of support that's unlike anything else, plus a shared sense of purpose. When Big Day Out were at our best, for example, we felt unstoppable; something extra-special kicked in to make us greater than the sum of our parts (though to be fair, this could be the confidence of youth).
Having said that, even though I wrote the lion’s share of our songs back then, I still felt desperately unconfident in my ability, while also having total faith in my band as a whole; it was a fine line to tread, and one I still tread now with my comedy. nearly eighteen years later (how the hell did that time pass?).
I guess that’s how most creative people feel: teetering somewhere between having faith and feeling faithless. That’s why collaboration's great if the person's right, as you’re not the only one riding that roller-coaster, to use a clunky metaphor; I could have found a better analogy if someone was writing this with me now.
