Since the time that my daughter Hannah was in late elementary, we’ve had an inside joke about me being a weird Dad. One day, for a very legitimate reason in all likelihood, Hannah said to me, “You’re weird.”
“You’re damned right,” I replied. “Would you want to have a regular, boring, normal Dad?”
“Ugh. NO!” She shouted.
We both laughed. From that moment on if she accused me of being weird I threatened to quit making music and exclusively play golf. I promised to get a closet full of single color polos and pleated khaki pants for a daily uniform. I promised that we would listen only to the Daddest of classic rock. Family movie nights would now be comprised almost exclusively by films from the Fast and Furious franchise.
Now there is nothing inherently wrong with these things, but in Hannah’s mind they were the virtual death of my personality as her Father. This version of a Dad wasn't special or different from the boring Dads she saw portrayed as one note figures on TV, or their real-life counterparts who we’d often see walking dead-eyed through Target on a Saturday afternoon. The truth was if she had to choose, she’d pick me as the weirdo Dad she had always known. More than a decade later the joke still exists on some small level, and we both know what will happen if I am labeled as weird; I’ll threaten to go normie.
This inside joke has always made me happy. I love that my kid begrudgingly admires my eccentricities. Sure, they bug the shit out of her, but given the choice, she would gladly take the weirder version of me. Like me, she has an affinity for what Kerouac labelled the mad ones.
“[...]the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes “Awww!”
Jack Kerouac - ‘On The Road’
Without intending to do it, I have spent my life running away, or at least adrift, from whatever normal is. I have always gravitated to underground music and film, forever seeking out new sounds and sights that are more like a buried treasure than a sure thing you’ve heard about from everyone else. I’ve also hung out with the art kids, the theater dorks, the music nerds, and the creative writing geeks.
In high school, I longed to be a jock; not because I excelled at sports, but because that was the easiest place to gain people’s love and affection. If I could kick a ball higher or run faster than someone else, there was no denying my superiority. The problem was, I didn't excel as an athlete and I didn’t have the inherent skill or love necessary to get good.
So, in my sophomore year, I took to drama and Quiz Bowl and never looked back. In the intervening 35 years, I have run headlong towards the weirdos like those that made me feel so safe at 15. The artists, writers, painters, photographers, sculptors, and songwriters I have known are the most genuine people I have ever encountered. These weirdos have helped me to understand the world around me and to even better understand myself.
In addition to all the actual makers and creators, there are those in the community who provide energy, momentum, logistics, funding, spaces, and encouragement. These are often the most generous and courageous of the weirdo class. These folks will offer up their homes, their money, and their reputations just to make art a part of their regular lives. It’s this sort of discipline in a “non-normal” lifestyle that allows for us to have artistic scenes and communities at all.
When we are at the forefront of an idea we often look like we’re mad. Bernie Sanders has held his political positions in steadfast fashion for 40 years, but has only recently been taken seriously by the Washington establishment. Prior to his grass roots success in 2016, he was a raving lefty. Now, much the Democratic Party espouses major sections of his platform.
When Al Gore released An Inconvenient Truth, most Americans thought he had given them a fantastical viewpoint used as a scare tactic. Now, the data in that film is seen as irrefutable fact. Al Gore did not change on his position regarding climate change, we just eventually came to accept the inconvenient truth of it all.
Crazy people lead the way. There are new documentaries out on trailblazing artistic geniuses like Steve Martin and Jim Henson, who were both dismissed at the beginning of their careers as being odd. Neither man seems like a superstar, and they both possess a unique and vivid perspective of the world around them. Their weirdness is what makes them great. Your weirdness is a part of what makes you great.
I am done with small talk and chit chat. I wanna talk big ideas and crazy schemes. Tell me why you fell in love with music, but let’s not ask about the weather today. Name the place in the world you most wanna see and the real reason you haven’t been there yet. Let’s hash out the logistics for a new house show venue or we can plan a festival for next summer in your garage in Des Moines. Let’s get crazy and make something special.
Let us be the truest, craziest, maddest, and most genuine version of ourselves we can be. To the mad ones.
Cheers,
Matty C
Were you saved by the mad ones? Tell us about it?
One of the most memorable television commercials ever ...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9-ZB2O8azI8
My daughter feels much the same about me. My eccentricities are what make me me and I wouldn't trade any of them for the world.