Okay, so I lied...
I didn't actually get 50 million views. The real number is closer to 100 million. But, most of the people that use my work never bother to tell me about it. So, I have no way to keep track of all of the shares.
I know for a fact, though, that I got 50 million views from 3 shares on Facebook alone. And when you factor in all the other places this song has been uploaded, the numbers start to rack up quickly.
Now that I have (hopefully) proven my claim, you might want to take a second to watch the video at the top. It is a song about police corruption and the project behind this article. Go ahead, I'll wait. Okay, now that we have that out of the way, let's take a trip together back in time...
The year is 2014.
It's late at night, foggy and cold. You are not where you are now, sitting comfortably in front of a computer, furiously hitting refresh, trying to see how much money your articles and comments have made.
Instead, you are in Northern California, near the coast, in a music studio making beats. Usually, you write when you are inspired. Music is how you have fun and relax. But not tonight.
Tonight, you're angry.
The events in Ferguson with Michael Brown have not yet unfolded. Freddie Gray and the riots in Baltimore are still on the horizon. But you can still sense a widespread discontent sweeping the nation.
You made the mistake of reading Cop Block and the Free Thought Project. And now, as you stare at the the mixing console on your DAW, your mind keeps drifting to Sandy Fonzo and the judge who sold her kid to a prison. James Boyd and the cops who shot him in the back. And Kelly Thomas as he pleaded for his dad to save him while the police beat him to death.
It's messing with your creativity. Nothing is working. Everything sounds like shit.
You need to clear your head, so you turn on the radio. Garbage. Why does main stream hip hop suck so bad now?
You think back to a better time. A golden era when rappers actually had something to say. Chuck D. KRS One. NWA. You think to yourself, "I wish we had rappers like that NOW. Someone needs to speak out!"
And then the realization hits you...
No one is going to say anything. It has to be me.
But who am I? I'm nobody. I'm a rapper who freestyles in parking lots and a stand up comic who tells jokes for his friends. I'm not a moral authority. Who cares what I say?
The voice of doubt is loud and convincing:
"You aren't anything special. There are thousands of artists that are
better looking, more talented, and more ambitious than you. How dare you
think you could make a difference."
You want to believe it. Giving up is so much easier than trying. But just as you are about to throw in the towel, you have that a-ha moment that changes everything.
You realize that it's not about you. It doesn't matter if no one listens. It doesn't matter if no one cares. What matters is that YOU care. And that you do something about it.
You heard the saying, "The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good people to do nothing." But you didn't really understand what it meant it until now. It doesn't matter how it turns out. Do something.
So you channel your anger and keep working. You remember who you are fighting for. You look at their faces, and watch the videos of their suffering. And, you find others. Other people to fight for, other people to help you keep fighting.
You make a beat, the simplest beat you can think of. You forget about the custom kits and use stock drums. You don't want the production to get in the way. You download thousands of clips for the video and research the backstory on each clip, to make sure that they meet certain criteria. It takes months.
Then the editing starts. You stare at the screen above for several more months. The entire time, you are certain that NO ONE will even watch the video. Your only hope is that somehow, the people that you wrote the song for will hear it. If even one of them likes it, it will have been worth the effort.
And after you release it, your wish comes true.
First, family members start reaching out to you. Telling you how much the song meant to them. Then, some of the victims themselves reach out. They tell you, "That was me in the video. I was the one that they were beating right there." And they thank you, not just for speaking out, but for caring.
And that is the lesson.
I didn't chase millions of people to tell them something they wanted to hear. I spoke the truth as I saw it for a few people who mattered, and millions of people listened.
Forget the crowd. Forget what's popular. Follow your conscience. Do what you know is right. And don't listen to anyone that tells you differently, including yourself.
Peace.