[Ok close your eyes and imagine this scenario. You can open them to keep reading, but then close them again ASAP]
Itās 9pm and youāve just sat down at a comedy club with some friends.
You have a drink in your hand, and thereās an energetic buzz in the room.
Suddenly the lights start to dimā¦
The emcee introduces the first comedian, and he begins his set.
The first joke is a flubbed one-linerā¦ the second is stiff and unfunny.
Suddenly, like a vacuum, all of the energy is sucked out of the room and everyone in the audience becomes super uncomfortable.
The comedian has 9 minutes left in his set, but heās already lost the crowd.
Desperately he reaches for his most politically relevant joke to try and win the crowd backā¦ but his delivery is once again off the mark.
People start shifting around in their seatsā¦ whispering nervously to each otherā¦ desperately trying not to make eye contact with the floundering comedian onstage.
After 9 more minutes of sheer pain, the comedian wraps up his set and bolts offstage to the relief of the entire crowdā¦
[Okā¦. open your eyes]
Why is a bombing comedian so uncomfortable to watch?
I mean, it makes sense for the comedian to feel awful about a terrible setā¦. but why is it so painful for the audience too?
To understand that, we must first examine the phenomenon of ācringeā.
Somewhere on YouTube (I will never say where), there is a funny music video that I filmed with my brother when I was just a chubby little middle schooler.
At the time, we thought the video was HILARIOUSā¦. but watching it back now feels equivalent to peeling my skin off my body with a pair of pliers.
Itās not because thereās something inherently wrong with the videoā¦. in fact, there is nothing inherently ācringeā about two kids goofing around making silly movies.
So why is it so cringey to watch?
Itās because the humanity of the situation is too painful to acknowledge.
When I see that video, I remember what it was like to be that little kidā¦..
I was awkward and nervous and excited and passionate and I had no idea what the world had in store for me.
I had no idea how difficult and beautiful life would beā¦ and I had no idea who I was supposed to be in the world.
I think about how I donāt talk much with my brother nowadays, and the struggles that he mustāve been going through at the time we made the video.
So when I watch it now, itās hard to see past the existential weight of it all.
The circumstances have changed since that video was made. I know more now, and that inherently colors the way I watch it.
Itās no longer a (hilarious) parody video, itās a time capsule of my relationship with my brother and the innocence we felt as children.
And THAT is what is so f****** uncomfortable.
The last two decades of social media hell have created an insane expectation to only present yourself to the world as a fully realized, complete human being.
We are incredibly resistant to works-in-progress, because the truth of it is often too much to bear.
So we trained ourselves to only consume content from folks weāve convinced ourselves are finished products.
And even though anyone with an ounce of wisdom knows that this is impossibleā¦ it still hasnāt stopped us from trying.
Which is why whenever the real humanity of a person leaks through their social media shellā¦ā¦. itās incredibly uncomfortable to experience.
It could be a stutter or a quick flash of insecurity on an Instagram Reelā¦ but we can all feel when the illusion has been lifted and weāre suddenly watching another human being.
Itās very weird.
And very uncomfortable.
But itās actually what makes humans so unbelievably interesting.
If we could understand that ācringeā is actually an intolerance of the consumer rather than a flaw of the creator, we might finally enter an era of true authenticity.
Human beings are constantly discovering who they are and what their purpose isā¦ and social media has created a massive opportunity to allow others to tag along on your journey.
But instead of using social media to truly connect with our supporters, we desperately try to present ourselves as fully-finished products.
Even I, your SubStack king, am not immune to this.
I know I present myself as this super suave, intelligent, rugged, kinda-down-to-earth but still approachable, humorous but also kinda-keyed-into-whatās-going-on-in-the-real-world kinda guy.
But in reality, Iām only 95% of those things š
And the 5% difference is probably the gap that allows you peak briefly into my soul and see that I, like you, am just a mere mortal, trying my best.
And that probably makes you uncomfortable. But I am thankful for your company.
I know that many moons from now, Iāll look back on these articles and cringe at all of the obvious blind spots in my perspective.
Maybe you already see my blind spots, in which case KEEP IT TO YOURSELF.
But even so, the fear of cringe doesnāt stop me from trying.
Because cringe is in the eye of the beholder. Itās your problem, not mine.
If you focus solely on discovering who you truly are, you will find your audience with timeā¦ even if itās painful for some to watch.
If you attempt to be someone else, then you better be a fantastic actorā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ otherwise your humanity will inevitably peak through and spoil the whole charade.
So anyways good luck with that.
~ Michael from Mad Records
Iāve been thinking about music creation and music distribution lately and comparing it to my software development experience in open source software. One of the things I loved about OSS is that I could release an unfinished product at any time to the community at large and have them take it, try it, use it, test it, and report back their feedback, sometimes even with a fix to a bug, that would then be included (potentially) in the next release, many times within a few days. I donāt think that exists in music, and I wish it did. I miss it.
Cringe is watching the crashing and burning in front of a real-time audience, which probably the most painful type of crash and burn. Thankfully I am more a behind the curtain type of guy and when I crash and burn, while it may not be in front of an audience most times (but not all the time), it is in front of the peers at times I want to impress which can be more brutal in ways. No doubt you have to be true to who you are because when you try to fake it, you can only go so far before the jig is up!