The “Expert”

Disclaimer: No matter what I say in this blog, please do not think that I consider myself to be an “expert” in anything. I am simply talking to myself here, weighing the pros and cons of the concept, and my experience with it.

Expert: “One with the special skill or knowledge representing mastery of a particular subject…having, involving, or displaying special skill or knowledge derived from training or experience.” [Merriam-Webster]

I want to start with one of my favorite quotes, modified for gender neutrality:

“A smart person thinks they know everything; a wise person knows they know nothing.”

I’m sure I have pissed off a few folks over the years, simply by trying to sound like I know what I’m talking about: “How dare he claim to know more than I do?” or, “that idiot thinks that?” Expressing a strong like or dislike for a particular banjo player does not mean “I know better”; it just shows that I think critically, and have opinions—just like everyone else. I apologize for any offense I may have inadvertently caused, especially from back in the day when I thought I was “smart.” I’m working on the wisdom thing.

It is a difficult thing to do, to try to write a piece about a particular subject without stepping on someone else’s feelings. And frankly, if it wasn’t for writing, I could never even try; face-to-face, I inevitably shrink from any shred of confidence I may have acquired, out of fear of pissing anybody off. And of course, that writing makes some folks think I am an expert, or arrogantly consider myself to be one. I suppose I would rather take a chance and try to say something, rather than continue to be silent. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

The simple truth is, nobody can ever know everything, especially in something so complex as music! There are musicologists with multiple Doctorate degrees who are still searching for “the truth.”

“The more you learn, the less you know.”

The more you learn, the more you realize just how much information is out there that you still don’t know—more than any mere human could ever claim for themselves. The deeper you dig, the more you uncover, like an ancient archeological site, where only a weathered old stone is showing. I suppose we should be happy for A.I.; it literally knows everything, or at least has instant access to everything that is available (bits and pieces from many different sources). Today, “research” is easier than ever; just ask A.I.! It will “look it up” and write a dissertation for you if you want.

Think of the difference between a young college student and an old, grizzled “guru”: the young student can learn something from a book and claim to be an “expert.” And when they get that piece of paper proclaiming them to have arrived, look out! The guru of course has had decades of actual experience with the subject, and is certainly closer to being an actual expert. But that guru was probably a fresh-faced college student at one time as well.

Talking about a subject that is older than both of them (the four-string Jazz Age banjo for instance), shouldn’t they both be considered experts (or not)? I mean, they both had to learn it second-hand; it’s not like the guru was there at the inception (though they probably knew folks who were; so what? Did their original greatness simply rub off?). At what point in life does a person go from being a learner to being an expert? And does an expert then “know everything” and the learner “know nothing?”

In my opinion, the concept of “expert” was invented by folks who thought they did know everything! “Look at me!” If that kind of self-aggrandizement is what it takes to be recognized by others as an expert, then I don’t want anything to do with it. It is unfortunate that some folks seem to need an expert to tell them things. It is very easy for a charlatan to come along, proclaiming their singular greatness, and have folks bow to them as if they were an all-knowing deity. I have never been one for self-promotion, and I certainly hope I’m not a charlatan.

I’m in my 60s now: old enough to see my “crotchety old know-it-all” days coming, but young enough to try to stop it in its tracks. I much prefer to think of myself as a “student of the subject.” A student is constantly digging, trying to find that last nugget of knowledge when of course it can never be found. Why try then?

Well, for one thing, I’m finding it to be a great “stay young” program. The moment you think you’ve arrived, the journey is over. And I don’t plan for it to be over until I’m dead. At that point, I can only hope that my legacy outlives me. Oh, we’ll all have a legacy, simply by having lived; it’s just a matter of whether it’s a good one or not. Knowing that the whole truth will never be found is what keeps me searching and striving for it.