In case you aren’t current on pseudo-scientific clap-trap, Malcolm Gladwell has written a series of books that start with very simple and intuitive assumptions, and then build sweeping and generally unsupported conclusions. His latest book is “Outliers”, where he investigates very unusual (generally highly skilled or accomplished) people, and tries to figure out how they came to be so. This is a very worthy topic, but in his analysis I think he has done more harm than good.

My latest run-in with Gladwell, and the inspiration for this post, was on TV the other night. He was being interviewed about his book, and specifically brought up his example of how The Beatles became famous. The Beatles, he explained, spent some time playing strip clubs in Hamburg, Germany. This was before they were famous, and they would regularly play 8 hour sets, 7 days a week. This is a very difficult schedule, and as Gladwell explains, this stint of very intensive performing (he equates performing with practicing, which is a mistake in itself), is the reason they became famous. Note, he does not say that this contributed to their success; he says it is the reason for their success. He was very explicit in saying that “talent is the willingness to practice.” This is horse hockey.

I don’t think anyone would dispute that effort is a critical element of success. But, anybody who has spent any time in a creative field would immediately recognize that with the same amount of effort given, there are wide variances in the level of individual accomplishment. In my life I have known dozens of individuals who have put in similar amounts of effort to The Beatles in Hamburg. After having invested the time the results were that these people range wildly in ability, from terrible to very good. None of them, I am sad to say, have reached Beatles levels of accomplishment.

To put it another way, The Beatles were certainly not the only band to play 8 hour sets 7 days a week in Hamburgian strip clubs. Where are the other bands who did so? They put in the same amount of effort as The Beatles. According to Malcolm Gladwell they should be equally accomplished.

Malcolm Gladwell is a very eloquent speaker. He presents things in such a way that one has a tendency to immediately agree with him. But, after a little bit of effort and probably a minute or so spent analyzing his statements one realizes that they just don’t hold up (I call this the Stephen Lewis effect). Furthermore, his writing seems designed specifically to make us feel better about ourselves. The particular claim that effort is the only differentiator is perfect for convincing myself that yes, I can be a rock star or an NFL quarterback, all I have to do is get off the couch (I’ll do this next week) and go put some effort in. I’m sorry, but the bottom 99% of us are simply incapable of being world class at pretty much everything. Implying otherwise is not going to help.

So, Mr. Gladwell, I really don’t think your writing is any good. I know you’ve put in the effort to write good books, but I don’t think you have the innate talent required to do so. And yes, the title is overly harsh, but I decided to honour Mr. Gladwell by extrapolating further than is justifiable from the data available.

I’ve written before about some of my experimentations in popular music forms, but until now haven’t said much about my supposed history as a serious musician. In fact, based on the material available online, some might question the assertion that I was (am?) fairly accomplished in the musical realm.

Luckily I’ve now managed to work around some stupid file size upload limits, and can now provide, for your listening pleasure, a recording of Also Spracht Zarathustra, by Richard Strauss, as performed by me (and 90 or so other people) at Jack Singer Hall in Calgary.

listen to it

The first minute is immediately recognizable to anybody who watches movies, but very few have listened to the remaining half hour, which is just as good, and worth sitting through. The story it tells is of man’s ascension from beast to overman, but of course we’ve all read our Nietzsche so we know that.

My fondest memory playing this piece occurred at Toronto’s Roy Thompson Hall. It’s a very nice hall, and was fairly new when we played it in 1994. Of particular interest was the organ, which as organs go is considered to be “beefy.” Some of the string players ganged up on the organist after the dress rehearsal and convinced her to see what it could do in the performance. So, when the performance came along she cranked that sucker up to 11 and absolutely let loose during the first massive 2001-esque crescendo. That thing shook the entire hall, leaving a few thousand heads exploded, and I bet God himself was trembling at the sound. It was of course a totally unprofessional thing to do, and she was banned from playing the Strauss for the rest of the tour, but holy crap it was amazing.

So, please enjoy, but if you intend to listen I suggest you right click and download, as it’s >30 MB, and I don’t want to kill my server.