Fifteen months after A Tribe Called Quest released Low End Theory, Dr. Dre finished The Chronic.
Billions of hip hop records soon followed.
6 months after The Beatles released Please Please Me, The Beach Boys came out with Surfer Girl.
Billions more rock records since.
Billions of records. Billions of books. Billions of everything imaginable.
But who’s counting?
We will never run out of music to play or words to write or podcasts to create. Though artists are bound by mathematics, though only a few notes harmonize well enough to write about, we will never run out of poetry. Because taste – the element constantly in flux – changes. Taste morphs, transforms, and births itself anew like a phoenix rising from the ashes. From generation to generation, artist to artist. Taste is the stopgap preventing us from running out of things to say.
When you were born, you brought with you from your journey out of the abyss a set of beliefs, perspectives, assertions. You brought a flare, a kind of pizazz that no one else has. It’s this pizazz, this flare, these assertions and beliefs that set you apart and parallel to the others that came before.
Apart because whatever you create is unique, even if it’s garbage. (At least it’s your garbage.)
And parallel because The Beatles had their assertions.
And Tribe had their beliefs.
And Andre Romelle Young had his flare.
And you have yours.