A note: I have been slammed working on a project that I am very excited about. As a result, this column was a bit delayed. Now, due to the horrific events in Ukraine, I was unsure about releasing it today. But, at its heart, this is a story about what we desperately need: a vibrant, diverse and positive community. A community building the future through a collective expression of hope and the power of our shared humanity. In spite of all that is happening in the world, I see the promise of a future that will be better. But, only if we choose to build that future together. - SM
The other day, I did a thing.
I left the house, went outside, got in a car, picked up my ticket, nervously went into a large building, stood next to a bunch of people, drank a whiskey (or two) and listened to three phenomenal bands perform over the course of several hours. I believe they call it a concert… or concurt… it may be a hard “c.” I don’t really remember how it’s pronounced.
Why did I do it? Well first of all, I was there to celebrate the birthday of a very dear friend who happens to manage all of the bands playing that night. But, I also wanted to remember what it was like.
Going to shows, to the cinema or to the theater all used to be, like, normal things. I did it all the time. But after two years of near complete isolation, I was amazed at how odd it felt to me. I found myself, uncomfortably shuffling away from those nearby. I was genuinely no longer sure how to be in a shared space.
But slowly, it all came back. We jumped around. We cheered. In between one of the sets, I found myself having a conversation with a new friend, who happens to be a really phenomenal actor. We talked about art, architecture, inspiring cities and the creative community’s palpable shift towards positivity - how it seems more and more people are craving joy and intentionally being kind to others. It was a wild, inspiring night.
As the final band took the stage and the crowd erupted, the birthday boy came over and put his arm around me. It was a joyous moment. He looked at me and said, “You should write about this.”
So Bryan, this is for you.
My first temptation for this piece was to go into a lengthy diatribe, as I am wont to do, about the challenges that live music venues, theaters and cinemas faced prior to the pandemic. And the fact that, while the pandemic made things way worse, the live event part of the entertainment business was already in big trouble. I could have gone on and on about the shifts in consumer behavior that created anemic ticket sales, the outrageously high cost for creators to access those venues… and on and on.
But all of that would have been missing the point. I saw something that night that filled me with an enthusiasm I hadn’t felt in a long time.
We have been living through a relentless onslaught of negativity. The fact is, our world has been overwhelmed by platforms that have found their profits directly, and irreparably, tied to the amplification of anger, division and hate. Whether it is an intentional effort, driven solely by profits, or simply that humans are biologically drawn to conflict, I don’t know. Most likely, tragically, it is all of the above.
But in the last few months, as I have fallen down the rabbit hole of Web3 and the Creator Economy, I have found an incredible movement at its center. A movement where artists support artists. Where individuals rise up to passionately tell the world about a project they love. Where people who have toiled on the sidelines of the creative industries are suddenly given a voice, a path, a livelihood. And even when those who, for one reason or another have a bad experience, they find themselves surrounded by people genuinely encouraging them and trying to help. It is, of course, imperfect. Just like every other business, there are liars and thieves lurking, seeking to destroy beautiful things.
I have rarely been accused of unbridled positivity. I come from a long line of curmudgeons. I have been yelling at kids to get off my proverbial lawn for most of my life (if you get that joke, you too may be a curmudgeon.)
Web 3 has lots of issues. As with any nascent shift in consumer psychology and behaviors - especially those led by technologies - there are massive challenges. No doubt, there will be many more false starts, pie-in-the-sky promises (Google: bullshit), scams and catastrophic failures. This revolution will need constant care. It will require those who are building for this future, to tune out the noise, to rise above the petty attacks and just. keep. building.
But what is it about Web3 that I find so appealing? I have to say, I kind of think it’s because it feels like a concert. Where, after years of separation, we are all suddenly together again. We don’t know everybody in the hall. But we’re all there around a shared love of the art coming from the stage. As the music starts, we all instinctively move together. Each with their own particular quirks. But, nobody judges. After all, we can’t all be brilliant dancers like me (once again, Google: bullshit). In fact, there are no qualifications for being in the room. Just love for the music. And as each tune crescendoes, the crowd instinctively rises to meet each other in the rapture of the crashing waves of sight and sound.
The heart of Web3 is putting power into the hands of creators and the communities they build. For me, having spent the entirety of my career chasing this goal, Web3 is like my new favorite song. And it thrills me to no end to see an ever growing room full of dreamers like me, dancing to the tune.
Are you ready to dance? I’ll count you in… one and two and three and four. Start the music.
By the way, the show that night featured performances from three stellar bands: *more and Girlfriends kicked things off and Bad Suns headlined. Their music would make a great soundtrack for builders everywhere. Support them if you can.
Better Together