Author: DC
Word Count: 1,761
For as long as human beings have been making artistic creations, be they paintings or musical compositions or documents, there has been debate about whether artistic greatness is the result of effort and toil, or simply springs from an indefinable “creative genius”. In short, some believe that certain individuals are simply blessed with a unique creative talent which they can then channel into their work – a sort of divine inspiration, if you will, that separates a Shakespeare from a Stephanie Mayer. Other thinkers, while accepting that levels of talent vary from person to person, place more emphasis on the development of skill and creative understanding via hard work and repeated activity. The most sophisticated analyses of the backgrounds of our great artists, such as that conducted by Malcolm Gladwell in his book “Outliers”, have concluded that, unsurprisingly, the real answer lies somewhere between those two polarised views. Some people are simply more talented than others, and of those people who are talented the men and women who apply time and effort to their chosen field tend to achieve greater things than those who coast.
This evaluation of talent and effort isn’t just an abstract intellectual exercise, however, as the beliefs of particular artists in relation to this issue seem to have very marked consequences for the ways in which those artists practice their craft. This can clearly be seen in relation to the modern music industry, in which the effort / inspiration debate is shaping the way in which music is created, presented and sold. The debate is also moulding the development of the music industry, whether artists fully realise this or not.
In rap music, the notion that artistic success is a direct function of effort and toil has become a dominant, broadly-accepted construct that very few artists, producers or label executives disagree with. It has become axiomatic that rappers who work hard and fully commit to a ‘life in the industry’ are more likely to become successful than those who don’t, and that having artistic talent is no substitute for some bleeding-knuckle effort. Work is valued so highly in the hip-hop community that a complex vocabulary has emerged to describe the application of effort to the craft. The recording studio has become “the lab”, rappers are no longer creating songs but “building something”, and most notably recent years have seen the characterisation of the creative and commercial process that a rapper must go through to make and sell records as “the grind”. In fact, a whole family of grind-related words has evolved; “the grind” is the day-to-day struggle of being a rapper, you can “grind” or “be on your grind” (work hard to get what you want), you can hire a “grinder” (someone who will work hard at promotion or sales on your behalf), and you can also use a “grinder” to separate your weed before smoking it. Oh no, hold on, that’s something different[1].
So many chart and underground rap songs of the last few years have talked about the grind that it has started to fall into non hip-hop usage (the New York Times recently quoted a Senatorial candidate as saying that he “has been grinding hard, trying to drum up support”). Most recently the latest single by Asher Roth is actually called “G.R.I.N.D.”[2] During the song Roth lays out a positive social message that he hopes to promote by successfully making uplifting music – and why is he confident that he will achieve this? Because “I work real hard and all for every little bit that I get”. It’s the work that results in great music, it’s the work that will lead to his success. Roth admits that this can make things difficult and tiring, and that it would easier if simply having talent was a guarantee of good fortune, as he notes that “I… I’ve been on my grind / I can only grind / for so long”. In fact, if you listen to what rappers are saying, work has become almost the only thing that’s perceived to result in record deals, the creation of hot beats and strong rhymes, and ultimately in record sales. Having good luck is said to help, but the possession of actual artistic inspiration is some way down the list of prerequisites.
In contrast, you don’t hear very many rock stars talking in a similar fashion. Occasionally a band will stress the importance of effort and time in their creative process, as anyone who has read one of the recent flood of interviews with Brooklyn group The National can attest to. However, their statements aren’t exactly the same as those made by their rap counterparts, as in the eyes of The National the work on its own didn’t make successful creation more likely. Instead, the application of effort was necessary simply because the five members of the band and their musical associates had very different musical tastes and inspirations, and it was hard to combine them all into coherent compositions. Most of the time, however, rock stars seem to ascribe to the view that they, when writing and recording music, are tapping into a pure vein of artistic creativity that exists within their souls. Sometimes it may take months for genius to strike and no amount of hard work can force it, on occasion you may strike gold on the first take and that’s that, but regardless of timelines the concept of ‘inspiration’ guides them. In the recent documentary “Stones In Exile”, Rolling Stones producer Jimmy Miller describes how the band, while recording “Exile On Main Street”, spent the vast majority of the time being unfocussed. They didn’t work hard or knuckle down, they just came and went as they pleased until, just occasionally, “inspiration struck, and Bill looked at Charlie, and then it was on”.
This antipathy to effort and reliance upon the creative muse has become such a part of the rock and roll psyche that we are now suspicious of any act who releases more than one record a year, on the grounds that producing that much material so quickly must be ‘forcing things’. The dominant ethos in rock and roll is that the avoidance of steady work is the surest way to ensure a consistent idea flow, and that placing restrictions on anything can lead to stifled creative potential. This partly explains why rock bands are obsessed with shutting themselves away for months to write, and recording in expensive studios in Malibu mansions. It’s all about putting as much distance as possible between the artists and any obligation to do anything.
Neither of these constructs, expressed in terms this strict, are a correct identification of the ideal creative and commercial process. Artists are individuals and will respond to different creative environments, and while some are suited to writing frequently others genuinely have to contemplate the songs that they are creating for months before they take shape. Undoubtedly, having a focus on these approaches can be unhelpful in certain situations – there are many rappers who would benefit from grinding slightly less and instead taking time to actually write half-decent rhymes (2009/10 Lil’ Wayne, here’s looking at you!) and some rockers would be more productive and less self-indulgent if challenged slightly more about their process. In music as anywhere else, the Gladwell maxim about needing a balance of talent and effort may well be true.
What the constructs have done, however, is served to shape the modern commercial landscape of the music industry. In the hip-hop field, volume of material produced is now perceived to be everything. Artists are flooding the market with studio albums, mixtapes and freestyles. Around this they are trying to find time to undertake waves of touring and promotion, as well as opportunities simply to “be on the street” and connect with fans simply by physical presence in their communities. All of this effort is thought to be required simply to develop or sustain a successful commercial position, and very few rappers are ever perceived to have become such big stars that they no longer need to jump through these hoops (recently, only Eminem comes to mind). And this serves a purpose, as having a constant presence raises profile and keeps an artist fresh in the mind of the customer. However, as we have said, it can be a double-edged sword that leads artists to rush out half-baked material, and can lead to the saturation of fans to the point that they become overwhelmed with output. In rock, in contrast, artists undoubtedly feel that they have more room to breathe and focus on developing high-quality material, without the same pressure to release records on tight, regular schedules. However, this makes rock acts more difficult to manage for record labels, as it is challenging to maintain interest in artists who only release a record every three years – in three years an entire generation of fans can have grown up and moved along, depriving artists of their core fans.
The upshot of all of this may be that we need a new set of directives for our artists, to maximise their commercial potential and the quality of their releases. Rappers, it’s okay to grind slightly less hard than you have been. Even God rested on Sunday, so feel free to spend one day a week sitting on your porch / diamond-encrusted throne, just musing. Honestly, we can go one day without hearing your third freestyle over “Wipe Me Down”. Rockers, get out of the hammock and put down the pina colada, your month of beach-lounging and waitress-seducing in Hawaii is not a key part of your creative process. Maybe rappers and rockers have something to learn from each other, to their mutual benefit. Just please don’t bring back rock-metal, we don’t need another Limp Bizkit…
[1] “Grinding” should also never be confused, especially in conversation, with the type of dance also known as grinding, which is hilariously described by UrbanDictionary as “A form of the most horny dancing imaginable. Guys looking for ass will grind profusely with random girls in order to persuade them to come home and get some bun action. Involves pushing the male genitalia up the [censored]”. Telling your friends that “me and my brother were grinding last night” could lead them to make some false assumptions about your lifestyle, for example.
[2] Apparently this stands for “Get Ready, It’s A New Day” – perhaps a day when Mr Roth hopes that people will talk about him for his rapping skills, and not just for how annoying “I Love College” was after a few listens
