Self Honesty

There are some things that “need to be said,” and some things that are “better left unsaid”; deciding between the two is a difficult task, especially in a small, close-knit “hobby” community like that of the four-string banjo.

Hurting an old friend’s feelings—intentionally or otherwise—is never the best answer, but what if a particular person needs to hear the ugly truth? Wouldn’t it be better if said person were to freely admit the truth, thereby saving the rest of us from having to broach the subject? To attempt to make my point—and hopefully open up an honest and necessary conversation in the process—I will use myself as an example. I will then invite others to be as honest with themselves and others as I am with myself.

As a banjoist who strives for “serious” legitimacy (my central self-image)—and classically trained musician—I know how good I am, but I also know how good I’m not! I measure myself against the very best musicians on several instruments (and believe that others should also do so), in a never-ending drive to be ranked among them someday. Having played with several of them, I have a pretty honest understanding of where I stand in comparison. For whatever reason, this comparison is vitally important to me; shouldn’t we strive to be the very best at what we do? And how best to accomplish that goal, unless you compare yourself with the best and hope to match them?

I have found that oftentimes, folks who are the very best (in any endeavor) are brutally honest, and don’t hesitate to tell you the truth; the more diplomatic of them will then kindly explain what you need to fix and how. News flash: One of the reasons they are so good is that somewhere along the line, someone really good (teacher or player) was brutally and constructively honest with them! They have also developed a thick-enough skin to seek, accept, and grow from the truth.

I unfortunately did not grow up with a healthy honesty; I was taught by family example to be humble-to-a-fault, and by natural extension of that to believe that I was unworthy of greatness. I was taught by example that to be visibly self-confident was to be arrogant (heaven forbid!). I was also taught not to criticize others (i.e., tell the truth), lest I hurt their feelings, and/or cause them to not like me. As I have overcome my childhood shyness and confusing self-esteem issues, I have felt a growing need to be honest with others, but let me tell you, giving brutal honesty is a lot more difficult than taking it!

Someday I would like to be self-confidant and brave enough to simply tell the truth, and yet be nice and diplomatic enough to maintain a friendship in the process! As I have grown in self-confidence and critical honesty, it has become increasingly difficult to smile and say “oh yeah, he/she was great!” when pressed for an opinion regarding someone who I believe to be not very good. Be careful of what you ask for; you may catch me in a rare, unguarded moment of honesty where I’m going to tell the ugly truth!

You must understand that—being a critical, trained musician—I naturally look at the banjo from the perspective of serious musical instrument, not happy entertainment device. I don’t rightly care how much a player smiles on-stage, or even what kind of person they are off-stage; when they are on-stage, all I care about is the quality of the music coming from their banjo (using my own standard of educated self-judgment). Passing/failing this quality test, only then do I focus on the look and personality of the player. When a good musician is on the stage, I would rather close my eyes to increase the aural enjoyment (except I’m too busy watching to see if I can learn anything from them!). I do appreciate a good entertainer also, but their music must be at least reasonably-passable to me, or I’m headed toward the exit to find a jam session.

So what I would like to propose here is that we all—myself included—strive for brutal self-honesty. If you are not a good musician, admit it! There is nothing more refreshing to me than an honest musician (at whatever level of skill on whatever instrument)—and nothing more distressing than one who is delusional enough to wrongly believe he/she is the greatest thing since sliced bread (the American Idol effect).

There is nothing wrong with “just having fun”—isn’t that the major attraction/ selling-point of the banjo (a point which my overly-serious nature often leads me to forget)? Just don’t try to pass yourself off as Harry Reser or Eddie Peabody incarnate unless you can prove it! The “honesty continuum” goes both ways; if you are a demonstrably good player, admit it! Don’t be afraid to say “hey, I’m pretty good!” if it’s the obvious and honest truth.

Your self-honesty will save me (or any other critical listener) from having to make an ass of myself when pressed for an opinion (a spot I would rather avoid). My best answer is “well, what do you think of your playing?” Your response will tell me just how diplomatic and/or careful-of-feelings I have to be in my ultimate answer (or whether I even want to attempt it); do you want the truth, or an ego boost? By the way, I will not give an opinion unless asked for one—fair enough? So please don’t feel nervous around me; you needn’t fear that I will pass judgment without your permission.

I realize that for many of you, the banjo is nothing but a fun hobby, a happy weekend escape from whatever reality it is you need to escape from—and that’s great! The last thing you need to hear at a banjo convention is some know-it-all telling you how bad you are! For me, the banjo is reality (professional and personal); I do take it too seriously, but I invite you to see that as a good thing—I have nothing less than the continuing existence and relevance of the four-string banjo foremost in my mind.

Know that trained/accomplished musicians outside of the banjo world are not as kind and gentle as we are. And know that I offer my opinions and commentary in the hopes of spurring growth (mine and the banjo community at large); I promise to avoid personal attack and “bashing” to the greatest extent possible (though I have been accused of doing just that in the past). Please except my apologies for any previous or future transgressions as I learn how to be diplomatically honest—and if I get too personal in your opinion, please let me know so we can discuss it; I’m not out to hurt anyone. We’re in this together!