Dear Designer,
This past weekend I went to a show of one of my long-time fave bands, the improbably named Brian Jonestown Massacre. It’s not death metal, nor is their music morose or overtly political. But it is led by the virtuosic and prolific Anton Newcomb (who happens to be my age) and who is the world’s worst perfectionist (besides me).
Between nearly every song of the two-hour Montréal set, the sunglass-visored bandmates would take a drink, futz with their daisy-chained guitar pedals, get another instrument, adjust their shoe gaze, and wait patiently for the next tune to be kicked off by Anton. There was never an awkward silence because, as anyone who knows the band also knows, this is how the band operates and has operated since day one.
(If you’re interested in BJMs backstory, watch the updated Dig XX (2024) doc, which traces the band and its outrageous and internecine warfare with those Dandy Warhols; Dig is widely considered one of the best music movies ever made.)
Anton doesn’t do average. He cares about creating sound that soars. He makes art that matters to him. He does not take any bullshit from his band or his audiences. It’s not easy to love him but BJM fans know that, more than anything, Anton cares about his work. And therefore, we admire Anton.
It’s not always pretty. Anton sometimes yells at his bandmates because their timing was off or a guitar was tuned wrong. Other times, he has tackled them to the ground. He might decide to go off stage. It’s not always pretty, but for him, the songs matter more than the singers.
It’s about excellence
I’m not excusing Anton or his antics. But he exemplifies a generational sense that what you put out there in the world matters a lot.
A lot.
It’s not really about perfection for Anton and the band.
It is about excellence. Greatness even. It is about making music that no one else can make. It is about building sonic beauty and aural boundlessness. (If you like, listen to the last song with the sitar player; you might be forever transfixed.)
It is about delivering work that works, matter that matters, art that achieves.
Like all die-hard BJM fans, I not only sympathize but I identify deeply with this aesthetic idealist.
There is good. And there is great.
The cultural garbage out there is riotous. Influencers, content creators, makers and machers — the effluent that is spewed into our cultural reservoir today poisons the well. And as if that’s not enough, we now have a scourge of AI bots and AI tools that are driving mechanistic success.
Instead of the hard work that it takes to create, construct, or craft, we are getting used to crap — worse yet, we are being told that the sparks of the simulacrum are our new reality.
Designers and artists are inundated with templates and tricks. Endless online courses and companies teach you to try new things. In two hours, you can be a better creator. It all creates productivity gains for business and content for monopolies but it makes for deeply unoriginal and underwhelming work.
I think there is a better way.
The one in the middle is Mr. Tambourine Man
While all of this mussing and musing goes on between BJM songs, there is one band member who holds centre stage — Joel Gion. A talented musician in his own right who has made numerous albums, Joel is known as the tambourine man.
While it looks ridiculously easy, Joel does the hard work of standing up there in the middle of the stage, calmly holding space for the music and whatever comes next. He plays tambourine impressively, impassively, impishly. He is the steady rock in the rock and roll. Seemingly, nothing phases him.
Anton, for all of his mercuriality and impetuousness on stage, treats Joel with kid gloves. Joels holds the band together with his calm, his stage-high stare, and his precision strikes of the tambourine.
Joel embodies the greatness of the music but without the emotional fanfare.
He takes the work just as seriously as Anton does. But he does it through persistence and pride — and less personality.
How does all of this apply to design?
For me, dear designer, it’s about maintaining order amidst the chaos while focusing on that which is possible. It is about showing up again and again, protecting what is important, which is the show going on.
We are surrounded by the misoriented and the disoriented, despite the fact that most are well-meaning. The information needs signal.
Our job is to hold steady.
Some of our songs are going to be great. And most of them will be memorable if we hold the line and hit the drum.
Yours,
Image of the Week
We are starting to see more and more real illustration these days. It’s a welcome turn of events, as photography becomes tricked out and AI-generated images are pasted up everywhere like bad stickers. This is a beautiful drawing by German illustrator Freidrich Heinrich Ernst for Deutsche Märchen seit Grimm a fairytale book published in 1912. I love the use of dark black ink, the three dotted lines to represent bark, the scary hand-drawn hand-like branch forms, the ghost house in the distance, and the childlike drawing of the pine tree at left. Take a look at the other drawings in this collection; they are replete with demi-magic and dark mayhem coupled with familiar rest and repose. Each little illustration speaks of a world of the past and yet they are little presents about presence — time slowing to the level of every drawn detail.
Quote of the Week
“You can’t reach these extreme highs without these extreme lows.”
Wishing you a good week ahead. Thank you for reading, dear designer. Please leave feedback in the comments below. Reach out anytime.
If this was forwarded, you can grab your own subscription by clicking this thing.