I’m starting to wonder if people actually listen to themselves as they speak. Watching Michelle Bachmann or Sarah Palin is enough proof to the contrary, but in this case I’m referring to ordinary people, far far from the political spotlight. They’re aunts, parents, friends, even teachers who should know better. They all say the same thing, totally oblivious to how defeating a simple question can be.

All you English, Philosophy, Music, Art, or Theater majors can say it with me. On three, ready? One… Two…

So you’re getting a Music degree, eh? You going to be a music teacher?

I thank God that I never grew so frustrated with that question as to shout back, “no, I’m actually learning this shit because I intend to use it.” It seems unfathomable to most people that a degree in anything but Engineering, Business, Law, or Medicine could ever be used for a wage-earning skill other than teaching that skill to others. I didn’t take more than two decades of piano lessons just so I could be another part-time piano teacher.

The irony is that, when I was in college in the late 90′s, nobody asked all my Computer Science friends if they planned to teach Computer Science. It was assumed that they’d step off the commencement stage directly into the limo that would whisk them to their cushy Silicon Valley job. Maybe if someone asked them The Stupid Question a few of them might’ve pondered alternate career tracks. You know, just in case their entire industry was propped up on an ever-weakening economic bubble.

Do people ask Education majors if they plan to teach other aspiring teachers about how to teach? That concept just seems too recursive for me to focus on right now, so forget I even mentioned it.

My problem isn’t with the act of teaching; I have great respect for those with the patience and knowledge to make someone else smarter. Teaching anything requires a skill set I simply don’t possess and the great teachers wield it with all the skill of Stevie Ray Vaughan on a guitar. No, my frustration lies with the question itself. Roughly translated, it reads something like this:

So you’re getting an English degree, eh? You know you’ll never actually earn a living as a writer, so what’re you going to do to pay the bills? You going to be an English teacher?

There are a very small number of people who will become “famous” thanks to their artistic endeavors, but everyone has to earn a living. Those aspiring programmers I knew ended up in jobs ranging from network admins to gas station attendants. All of us have one simple task before us: Create something of value and earn compensation for it. Artists, for the most part, are entrepreneurs by definition. Everyone else can work for an established company and climb a ladder or start their own law firm or software company if they’re brave enough. The fact that no readily available corporate structure exists for artists (there is no mail room or reception desk for Philosophy majors) doesn’t mean they won’t earn a living from their art.

Don’t torpedo someone’s aspirations simply because you’re too narrow-minded to see their path to success.

If you find yourself confronted with a young artist and feel the urge to ask The Stupid Question, ask yourself a couple of questions first:

1. Are they getting an Education minor? If so, go ahead and ask, it’s no longer a stupid question.
2. What do I do for a living? How would I feel if people assumed the only way I’d be able to use my education was to teach it to others?
3. If everyone who got one of these degrees just taught English or Philosophy or whatever, who the hell is writing the books that I read? Who’s making the music I listen to?
4. Do I want a piano shoved up my ass? (This one’s really just something I wished people would’ve asked themselves before asking me this question in college.)

The 1980′s are still trying to make a comeback, bringing their overinflated sense of self-importance with them.

A few weeks back I was featured in a WBUR on-air segment about performing live via UStream and selling my songs as a fan-driven Subscription Service rather than just making round pieces of plastic every year or two. The people at the radio station thought what I’m doing was innovative enough to give me nearly 8 minutes of air time during the morning drive. Then I got two comments like these:

That idea doesn’t sit well with everyone, including Boston musician and rock critic Dave Wildman. “I don’t know, it freaks me out,” he says with a laugh. Wildman likens Ebel to a talented street performer on the information super highway.
WBUR.org

It’s success if that’s what he wanted, definitely. If not…then no, he’s still got more work to do.

My guess? Dude still has a lot more work to do.
Justin Boland, comment on Hypebot.com

These two comments, though lamentably myopic, are understandable. Believe me, I can level with these opinions by making only one assumption: Their definition of “success” is stuck in the coke-filled limousine of Motley Crue, 1985.
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I played one of the best shows ever last night. It wasn’t on the schedule- heck, it wasn’t even planned. There was no stage, no sound system, barely even an audience. In fact, the audience consisted of my roommates and my roommate’s mom. Three people.

Every so often it happens- I play for an audience that truly appreciates me. I see them mouthing the words as I sing them. I hear the unbridled laughter as someone, for the first time, discovers what the song Trees is about. I hear them requesting songs that I wrote or songs that they like my version of better than the original.

To me it does not matter the size of the assembled crowd. I would much rather play for these three people than a crowd of 300 incessantly requesting Bon Jovi or “Pour Some Sugar On Me.” I am not in this business to become a meat-based jukebox, I am an artist because I want to connect with people on a level that goes beyond a handshake.

If I can reach that level even for one person at a time, I am a success.

Photo by RoninOtter

This is only partially a “starving artist” post. Plato said necessity is the mother of invention. This is especially true of songwriters, it seems, since we all need something to write about. Without a hole somewhere, we wouldn’t be able to fill it. Music is something I create out of a struggle for something greater. Greater success, money, understanding, guidance, love… Without the hunger for whatever’s on the next shelf up, I wouldn’t be compelled to climb.

All that being said, being hungry in the literal sense just gets old. There is a point at which “starving artist” changes from cute moniker to annoying fact of life. A working musician faces 12-hour days with a schedule that extends to 2am on weekends, usually for very little money and no job security. To have some corporate schmuck with a regular commute, a 401k, and a 2-beer lunch break treat you like some lazy hippie gets discouraging. Sometimes I think it’s sour grapes- that their hunger for something artistic or expressive has simply made them bitter.

Hunger, literally, sucks. But a spiritual hunger has led to some of the best work I’ve ever produced. Latté Days & Porter Nights is all about hunger (well, actually, thirst, but same idea). Hunger is the road sign that only the café on the horizon can satisfy. It is what keeps you driving, even if it’s an all-nighter with the band sleeping in the seats behind you.