A positive attitude won’t fix your problems, but accepting things as they are is a good start.
I did not enjoy the transition from childhood to adulthood. Going from a loving, nurturing home to an indifferent and, at times, seemingly cruel real world was not a good fit for me. My freshman year in college, I was adrift, scared, and, occasionally, what I now recognize as clinically depressed. Out of desperation, I took a philosophy course to get some answers. There, I read Nietzsche’s book, The Gay Science (perhaps the greatest title ever), and learned the phrase amor fati, which is Latin for “love of one’s fate.”
Nietzsche wrote:
“My formula for greatness in a human being is amor fati: that one wants nothing to be different, not forward, not backward, not in all eternity…
“I want to learn more and more to see as beautiful what is necessary in things; then I shall be one of those who makes things beautiful. Amor fati: let that be my love henceforth! I do not want to wage war against what is ugly, I do not want to accuse; I do not even want to accuse those who accuse.”
I’ve tried to embrace amor fati as my personal battle cry ever since. When applied, that philosophy has gotten me through a lifetime of catastrophes, beautiful moments, and the mundane. It’s also been a valuable tool to make me a better and happier musician. Here’s how:
Collaboration
When playing with a band, the goal is to serve the song, to make the music feel good. Sometimes my idea of where the song should go does not align with other players’ visions. If we stopped and talked it through, we could try a few ideas and see what works best. But in a live jam, that’s not an option. When ideas clash live, that can become a battle of wills. When I try to force it by playing louder and leaning harder into my idea of what it should be, it almost never works. Embracing what the other player is doing rather than forcing what I imagined is usually the quickest and most practical way to make the music feel right. It doesn’t matter how great your idea is if it rubs the wrong way against another player. Let go of your plan and try making what is happening work. The song will go where it was supposed to go.
Envy
There’s an old musician saying: “Whenever a friend succeeds … part of me dies inside.”
Success doesn’t only visit the most talented, or go to the most deserving, so it’s easy to compare yourself to others and feel like you are shortchanged. There’s always somebody else doing something bigger and better, and that’s when it’s hard to love where you are. Yesterday, I was playing the CMT Awards. The show’s big finale was a Skynyrd tribute with an all-star lineup (Slash, Billy Gibbons, Warren Haynes, Chuck Leavell, Paul Rodgers, etc.). During rehearsal, I watched my friends Rich Redmond and Ethan Pilzer playing drums and bass with these legends and caught myself feeling the bitter sting of envy, even though I’m a terrible drummer, a mediocre bassist, and I was literally booked on the same show. That’s like a greedy child in a room full of toys wanting somebody else’s. Count your blessings.
Career
Currently, I’m not touring. I get four to eight cool TV gigs a year and a few monthly sessions, but most of my present work is on Nashville’s very non-glamorous Lower Broadway. Two to six times a week, I haul my gear down and play four-hour slots. At times, it’s grueling, frustrating, embarrassing, too loud, and there’s a physical toll. You either get better or bitter. Your choice.
Singer checks into rehab and a gig is same-day canceled? Amor fati. Carpal tunnel is making the fingers flow like Elmer’s glue from a clogged tube? Amor fati. Your bandmate plays horribly? Amor fati. Amp dies, strings break, back aches? Amor fati. If you can laugh about it later, you can laugh about it now. It’s been a wildly entertaining chapter that’s made me a better musician and a better person. Not what I planned, but right where I’m supposed to be.
You either get better or bitter. Your choice.
Nietzsche gleaned amor fati from Epictetus, a Greek philosopher (c. A.D. 50), who was born into slavery, crippled by his master, and later exiled from his homeland after gaining his freedom. Epi knew a bit about things not going as planned.
Epictetus said:
“Every difficulty in life presents us with an opportunity to turn inward and to invoke our own submerged inner resources. The trials we endure can and should introduce us to our strengths.”
Loving your fate doesn’t mean you plaster on a smile and ignore the hard truth. A positive attitude does not fix issues. But getting depressed and dwelling on your problems won’t fix them either. Once you accept it is what it is, then you can focus on a solution rather than the problem. You stop wishing and start doing.
Life is one big improv jam. What’s happening to you is happening for you. Amor fati.Here's John Bohlinger in action while leading the CMT Music Awards band during the 2021 show.
John Bohlinger has been the musical director for the CMT Music Awards for 12 years. Before that, he was the bandleader for Nashville Star. Here's how he got—and kept—those gigs.
I just completed my 12th year as musical director/bandleader for the CMT Music Awards. You might be wondering: How does a guy of suboptimal intelligence and talent get and keep such a gig? Here's my odyssey.
I'd been in Nashville for over a decade, struggling to support a wife and child as a mostly working musician. This was in an earlier age of the internet, so you just had to find opportunities anywhere you could—word of mouth was the only social media. I heard through some songwriter friends that Tracy Gershon was working on a new singing-contest show called Nashville Star, a country version of American Idol, which had just wrapped its first season. Tracy ran the publishing company where I was formerly a staff writer, so we knew each other. I called and asked Tracy about the producer, and she pointed me toward Jon Small.
Jon is a successful film producer/director, but in his DNA, he is a badass musician, having grown up playing with Billy Joel in their band, the Hassles, on United Artists and their duo, Attila, on Epic Records. Jon played with everybody in the East Coast scene in the '60s and '70s. To this day, Jon is a great drummer, and that musicality makes his films flow musically. He cuts to the beat, so you feel the groove when you watch his work. Check it and you'll know what I mean.
I borrowed a friend's VCR recorder, plugged it into mine, and made a reel of TV shows I'd played on with different artists. If you were touring with an act on the radio 20 years ago, you'd do several shows a year, so I had enough TV performances on tape to cobble together a pseudo reel.
For my meeting with Jon, I rehearsed a little pitch, which went something like: "Jon, when Nashville puts together TV bands, they hire the best, but it's always old guys, sitting down, reading perfectly but playing without passion. I can put together a band of young, hungry players who will give you a fire performance."
I left Jon with my one copy of my "reel." He called me later and said something like: "Put together your band. Here's a list of 120 songs that our 200 finalists are going to perform live with the house band on this audition tour." I said, "Thank you. I'll have your band ready in 10 days."
I charted the songs, arranged them alphabetically in six binders and called friends to fill the slots (bass/BGs, drums, keys/BGs, utility fiddle/BGs, utility steel). There was no budget for rehearsals, so we met in steel-player Dave Ristrim's basement and learned all the songs well enough to play in any key. A few weeks after the meeting with Jon, we were on a private plane with the show's production crew and judges.
The greatest thing in the world is to gamble on yourself and win. The second greatest is to gamble on yourself and lose.
The audition tour alternated travel day/show. On show days, alone with an acoustic, I'd meet each of the roughly 30 to 60 contestants in a hotel meeting room from about 10 a.m. until we were done. A nervous contestant would come in and tell me what two songs they were performing. I'd work out the key and any production-style request (like the record, rockabilly, old-school country, rock, jazz, etc.) and we'd perform it a few times and I'd make notes. After the last artist, I'd race to the venue, read my notes to my bandmates and we'd work out the ideas on my acoustic as they took their own notes. We'd soundcheck, try a few arrangements, then the house would fill with an audience and contestants, and we'd perform with these strangers in front of the cameras, judges, and live audience. We actually pulled it off.
After the third night, Jon said, "You guys are nailing it. You got the gig."
I led the band for Nashville Star for all six seasons. We broke Miranda Lambert, Kasey Musgraves, and Chris Young, three of the biggest and coolest country stars working today, 15 years later. That's an amazing batting average compared to American Idol, which has had 19 seasons.
Here's how I kept the gigs.I always hire a band of genuinely good people I trust, and I utilize their talent. I rarely tell anybody what to play. If a player puts it in a direction that doesn't work, I'll suggest options and we'll jam until it grooves. Although we chart everything, I never have music stands onstage for a show. We have notes at our feet, but the trick is to learn the songs, then watch and play off each other live. It always looks and sounds more engaging when you're not reading.
Being capable is only a small part of getting gigs. You have to look for opportunities and if you can't find any, make some. You also must be willing to work harder than the other person even though there's a good chance nothing will come from your work.
Family, friends, love: Sure, that's all the sweetest stuff in life. But the greatest thing in the world is to gamble on yourself and win. The second greatest is to gamble on yourself and lose. Either way, at least you're playing.
