If We Were Fraudulent Vampires

A friend of mine shared an article from 19 years ago where the publication was interviewing Joanna Newsom about her new album, Ys. In the article, the interviewer asks her what she thinks “are critics’ and fans’ biggest misconceptions about [her]”. She goes on to talk about being associated with a movement she doesn’t align with and how there’s “a lot of fakery, a lot of posturing”. And it really got me thinking about the music scene in general and how there’s thousands of musicians (in NYC alone) trying to be heard. And that’s not even including the AI-generated crap that’s also being put out into the world, but that’s a whole other conversation. But how does one distinguish between sincere artists and these “fraudulent vampires” as Newsom calls them? And more importantly, am I a “fraudulent vampire”?

I think one constant thing that I’ll never be able to shake is imposter syndrome. I’m always seeking some form of external validation or objective opinion, for reassurance that I’m here for the right reasons. Don’t get me wrong. Anybody can make music; and anyone making music deserves to be happy. But in my opinion, there is a difference between treating music like an artist and treating it like a hobbyist. It's the disparity between a musician having to create content and a content creator who plays music. I've met lots of people who “used to play music” and I wonder: What made you stop? Was your heart not in it? Was this not your purpose? Is this my future? I’d like to think the answer is no.

I recently finished writing a song that I had been working on for months. Months. I felt so happy and elated once I knew this thing I’d been crafting was finally complete. I didn’t feel like a fraud while I was breaking my brain over trying to figure out the right turns of phrase. I didn’t feel like a “poser” when I went through edit after edit, before I consciously decided that the song was good enough. I’m not saying all songs need to be painstakingly chiseled down like Michelangelo’s David, but it should be thought out and have some sort of purpose. Maybe I’m asking too much.

The writing on the wall says the state of music is abysmal. Between AI-generated garbage and the need to compete for attention with K-Pop Demon Hunters, it feels like a fool’s errand. But I’m still here. A lot of us are still here. Like my hero Don Quixote, we keep charging. Yes, it’s probably on a carousel because I keep coming back around to the same complaint, but we charge, nonetheless.

My imposter syndrome also leaks into feelings surrounding community. I want to belong to something bigger than myself, and even when I’m greeted and welcomed with open arms, I feel out of place. I feel like I crashed a party and people are just making me feel good because they feel bad. Again, it’s something I can’t shake. I may not be a “fraudulent vampire”, but I can’t stop trying to see myself as one. This could also be my neurodivergent response to social settings. Who knows?

So, what am I getting at? I’m saying this is my recommitment. I’m no hobbyist. I’m in it for the long haul. I make art, and I will continue to evolve and improve on my work as best I can for as long as I can. When I wrote “Old Guitar”, it was from a place of discouragement and a feeling of giving up. I was inundated with how many talented people there were (frauds or not) trying to do the same thing as me. But I can’t stop, regardless of that feeling coming up multiple times a day. It’s in my bloodstream. It’s who I am. I may never be the most talented, most successful, or even the most unique artist I hope to be; but I’m certainly no vampire.