It was one year ago this week that I parted with FMR.
Its actually remarkable to think of how just one day can potentially change so much, and the subsequent twelve months that I've had have been filled with the often cliched soul searching and related questions.
There are those who might wonder why I would choose to commemorate what was a very bleak day in my life. I guess the answer lies in the fact that it brought in an unexpected change, and with that, it questioned many beliefs I assumed as the norm, and raised many more questions I had never bothered to ask before. I guess I felt it would be good to share the lessons learned 12 months down the track.
Lesson #1: The danger of delusion. The main reason I wanted to work in the music industry was relatively pure; I really sucked as a songwriter (the highest chart position I ever had as a songwriter was somewhere between #100 and #110), but felt passionately about wanted to be involved in making music history. It’s corny, but true. Besides that, it was cool, and I was always a nerd; the juxtaposition of the two seemed perfect. I was, in all fairness, really lucky – from the moment Frank gave my CV to Sue when she was looking for a new promo guy to the moment I accidentally found myself in the marketing department working under the brilliant Janet Dawes, it always felt like right place, right time. But then a different kind of danger emerged – the danger of losing that fine line between Lawrence ‘the individual’, and Lawrence ‘the job description’. I allowed the most important thing in my life to become FMR. And then, one day, that thing that I based the value of my worth upon was taken away, and this dull, boring creature slumped out of the office for the last time and had to start rethinking who the feck this Lawrence person was. I’d become so absorbed in the job, I forgot that I apparently had a life outside of that. So, the first lesson I learned; your job is important but make sure you keep it real; jobs will come and go and yet we still seem to place too much importance in something so potentially transient. I admire those who have been able to build a stable life away from the consuming chaos that is the music industry. I couldn’t hold down a relationship at FMR, but have been in a 10 month one since.
Lesson #2: Don’t work for an ISP – it’s the most boring thing you’ll ever do.
Lesson #3: One day, a woman, who I hold an indescribable amount of respect for, told me about this concept of ‘Plan B’. I didn’t have a ‘plan b’. I’m not sure what scared me more either; trying to devise a ‘plan b’ or the prospect of having to use it. There wasn’t ever any time to think about it anyway. And then, in one day, I was placed in a position where it became essential, and 12 months later, while I miss the music industry passionately, I feel that the foundations on which I stand are so much more stable than they’ve been before. I’ve learned that there is no harm in standing up and saying what you want. There is no harm in thinking about what you would be great at, and approaching people to pursue it. Bottom line, even if you have no idea what your ‘plan b’ is, a faith in yourself and your abilities will see you land on your feet.
Lesson #4: Some people will make friends with you because they’re genuine people. Some people will make friends with you because the situation suits. Acknowledgement of existence is a powerful yet simple thing. A word back from someone is better than no word at all. It shows a sign of how genuine they are, and that there is still some level of respect. I never expected much back from any of my old industry work mates when I sent them a message, as I often understand how busy they are. And yet, a few simple sentences three weeks later often made my day, and I hold them in the highest possible regard for that simple action.
Lesson #5: No one will beat yourself up better and longer than you can yourself.
Lesson #6: Nothing is really worth stressing over too much, except the important things. However, defining what the important things are correctly is worth stressing over.
Lesson #7: If you want to tell someone something, say it. It’s better to feel you’re giving the real deal than to kick yourself for missing the opportunity.
Lesson #8: The world was bigger than my office after all.
There are several individuals at FMR who are some of the most talented and inspired people I have met in the music industry yet. I didn’t really get to say thank you to them, nor let them know how profoundly being able to work with them had an effect on me. I’m not sure if any of them felt my friendship or eagerness was anything less than genuine, but I do hope these words clear up any suspicion of ulterior motives. However, in my world now, where I have a stable ‘family’, challenging job, and a handful of side projects that keep life spicy, I did feel some need for closure on these 12 months, and sharing this felt like a good way since I hold so many great memories of my time there. I know it’s a lot of reading, and often verging on melodramatic, but I hope the sentiment behind it is appreciated and understood. Besides, I’d rather like to think that I can make some worth of what happened twelve months ago than not, and experience is often the best way to quantify that. It all comes back to one of my life mottos; I’d rather have the ups and downs than the boring in betweens.
Great. So I watch Brother Bear with mates and cry my eyes out in a most un-butch fashion, then I come home for some light entertainment and Lawrencian hi-jinks and the blubbing begins anew. Having told you off, may I also be so bold as to say how amazing you are and that you are a constant source of inspiration. And that I'm so proud to be your friend. Well too late if I may not be so bold, as it's all said and done now, isn't it.
Great. There go the misty eyes again. I'm like a big hairy Sarah Mclachlan video. I'm so hating on you right now.
