Don’t Leave the Hype: How Art is the Light, Not the Applause

A lot of times our perception of ourselves—and of others—is shaped less by the truth and more by a narrative that the industry builds. Magazines, radio, television, movies, even the educational system all work together to tell us: this is the person leading the path, this is the legend of their generation, this is the artist doing the “important work.”

That has its place. Narratives can inspire, elevate, and bring attention to deserving artists. But there’s also a danger. The hype can give us a false sense of our importance—and, even more tragically, a false sense of our unimportance.

We see someone on the cover of a magazine and think: they’re the one making an impact. And if we’re not on that cover, we start to think: maybe I’m not making an impact. Without realizing it, we internalize the idea that our work doesn’t matter.

But that is simply not true.

When I look at my own career, I don’t play the major festivals. I’m not headlining the so-called “important” stages. I’m not being called to guest on the albums of jazz stars. Most of my gigs are in small venues in Brooklyn, often for twenty people, sometimes fewer.

And still—I say this with humility—my work is just as important as anyone gracing magazine covers or headlining festivals. I’ll put my contributions bar for bar, spirit for spirit, against theirs any day. Because the value of the work isn’t measured by how brightly the spotlight shines on it. The value is in the light you create where you stand.

Some of my greatest influences are musicians most people have never heard of. Folks you won’t see on magazine covers or topping polls. But their impact on my playing, my vision, and my development has been profound.

I think about Bob Rainey, a soprano saxophonist I recently performed with. In my opinion, he has the most expansive vocabulary of multiphonics on the soprano saxophone to date. When I first heard him, he wasn’t using multiphonics as a gimmick or an occasional noise effect—he was using them as part of an expansive language, the same way others use single notes. That completely shifted my perspective on what was possible.

That’s influence. That’s light.

And none of it happened at the Newport Jazz Festival, JEN, or the Jazz Journalists Awards. It happened in a room, on a stage, through the sound of one musician taking their craft seriously.

I can only imagine that I’ve had a similar effect on others. Maybe someone sees me working on a certain experiment, and it sparks a thought: I never considered that before. That ripple is real. And it doesn’t require hype. It requires presence, honesty, and a willingness to create light where you are.

Because the important thing isn’t to stand under the spotlight. The important thing is to create light where you stand—whether that’s in a packed hall, a neighborhood club, or a subway platform.

The hype fades. The light remains.

And one final word to the artist: you may not always get the affirmations you think you need to keep going. But you have to create and put your work into the world with the belief that it is reaching people, making an impact, and doing what it was meant to do. More often than not, your work is shaping lives in ways you may never see or imagine.