Tonight I just launched the new website of Spencer Day.
Marketing Spencer, and in general being a part of building his career, has been both a side project and a captivating one.
On his tour page, I wrote:
“There is a moment in the rare career wherein one is vaulted from a heralded obscure talent to a permanent placement in history’s vernacular. Spencer Day’s career is morphing to the latter. The current tour is not simply about playing high-profile venues around the world, nor simply about the release of a long-awaited, highly acclaimed album, but the synergy of forces that are coming together to transform Spencer Day into the widely acclaimed artist critics know he will become.”
For me, leveraging what I know about marketing to bring a musician through the inflection point of relative obscurity to deserved recognition is more a personal mission than a professional one.
I encourage all of you to watch the video below:
The next time someone tells you, “if life gives you a lemon, make lemonade”, tell them:
“You know what – I’m getting really sick of lemonade.”
When I consider all the degrees one can get that mean nothing, if not less, to me, I think an advanced degree in poetry wins.
The sealed stamp of the degree on paper is a qualification like a passport stamped many times over with “wrong road” printed everywhere.
Why did you need academia to improve your commentary on life?
Was it really the form, the meter, the use of metaphor or simile?
Did you do it to impress someone? Did it make you feel more esteemed? Do you now tell people about your advanced degree in poetry?
A degree has no value if it creates none.
The mechanics of poetry is: wax on, wax off.
The unique inspiration of good poetry is taught far, far away from those who institutionally aggregate to dissect it, and the people who know this would never frame a stamped piece of paper that empowers anyone other than themselves to judge what they must.
We had conquistador ambitions.
Battle plans were made, but we had no troops.
Now we are aging generals, we still have no troops.
Maybe we were meant to do nothing but plot.
We had a cavalcade of ambitious, disruptive plans,
but none of them worked out.
The best one now
is to grow old together.
Let’s watch the sun go down
we’ll smoke and drink wine
move imaginary pieces
and comment on how things end.
Maybe that should have been the plan all along.
A must-see video for anyone who has ever been on the support side of IT:
Oh, the memories it brings back.