I was able to attend a show on Saturday night for one of Haber’s newest clients, Paper Route (whose lyrics can be found in the post title). There are some good perks to this job, but I’m ready to move on.
For the past three or four years, I wanted nothing more than to have a job in the music industry. I’m sure my love of music and the influence certain songs have had on my life had something to do with it. When I interned for Eddings and Bradstreet, I think it was still very much a labor of love for the people involved with that crowd. From Molly to the Matthews to the Myriad, we all loved (most of the time) what we were doing…and we were equals. The business side wasn’t living vicariously through the performance side. We were a team. Those times were some of the best.
Enter Nashville. A city I’ve come to absolutely love and almost despise. And suddenly the music business has become just that, a business. It’s all about who you know, making sure others know who you know and wanting to be known. It’s hard not to get caught up in it, wear the trends and name drop (look at the first sentence). Everyone in this city is guilty of it. I’m quitting Haber (and possibly the music industry forever) September 6th. I hope there is not one moment where I look back and regret forgoing this job to go to Africa.
I don’t want the person others perceive me as to be based on people I’m very vaguely associated with. I want this lifestyle, these worldly desires, this “some are better than others” mentality to be dead to me.
I told my mom I hope Africa really screws me up. She looked at me funny and kind of laughed, “Screws you up?” I want to be defined by my passion, and I don’t want that passion to be something of this world anymore. I want to dance and not care how I look. I want to see my hands and feet become vessels for Jesus. I want to feel my heart bursting at the opportunities God is setting before me. I don’t want to complain my dinner is cold. I want to see the face of Jesus in the people I’m surrounded by, not the church politics. I wish I could make all that happen here. But I can’t. I’m too easily caught up in this scene. This stuff. This crap.
Your music is good, but I don’t care who you are. I just want to listen.