This one isn’t for everyone. Well, who am I kidding? None of the concepts we talk about here are for everyone.
But this one, in particular, is one that I know some musicians disagree with me on. Some players really love being a specialist, deeply immersed in one style of music. Or playing only with only one specific band. Or they are willing to play percussion if that means holding drumsticks in their hands but not if it means hitting a traditional drum with their bare hands. No outside influences or seemingly unrelated opportunities welcomed. And there is nothing at all wrong with that. In fact, there are elements of that approach and focus and dedication that I respect and admire and wish that I had myself.
But it’s also just not “me.” I’m the guy who has always been drawn to playing lots of different styles of music with lots of different kinds of people in lots of different types of venues in lots of different countries. And I want to constantly learn and pursue performance-adjacent career interests. Some of those pursuits might even, to a bystander, appear to be entirely far removed from music whatsoever. But, to me, there are many invisible connecting threads. Little links and parallels between the music and acting and making coin rings and writing and whatnot that allow each to influence, inform, and benefit the others.
If you’re more the latter type (or desire to be), then read on! If you’re more the former, then please do keep reading but if you want to skip this one, I totally get it. See you back here next week!
I ask those of you still here . . .
Have you ever felt trapped in a single musical style? Or in your strict, rigid practice routine? Or perhaps a self-imposed career identity that seems to limit your creativity or leave you uninspired?
A possible solution may be found in Robert Greene’s suggestion to “Assume Formlessness.” One of the principles in his 48 Laws of Power, the concept of formlessness encourages us to shed fixed identities and embrace continual adaptability. It’s not about losing sight of who you are; it’s about evolving with your music, exploring new genres, challenging long-held assumptions, and breaking free from habits that hold you back.
For musicians, the idea of formlessness means being flexible: experimenting with new sounds, making changes to your technique, and continuously reworking your creative process. When you let go of a rigid identity, you open up a world of possibilities.
It’s David Bowie reinventing his persona and sound. (I highly recommend reading Upping Your Ziggy for more on this).
It’s Prince doing the same as he merged genres and identities.
It’s Herbie Hancock evolving from classic jazz to innovative fusion, hitting many points between and outside of those.
It’s the emerging indie artist breaking from traditional molds by mixing electronic beats with acoustic elements. Or by shifting their songwriting styles from album to album. This fluidity keeps their audiences engaged and their art evolving.
There are so many ways to go about this but here are a handful of things that you try this week to embrace formlessness in your music:
Experiment with new genres
Dedicate one or two practice sessions this week to a style of music that you’ve never explored. Or spend time getting familiar with a scale that is entirely new to you.
Don’t just dabble; give it the old college try. Do some listening to that style for a few days. Try writing part of a new song in that style (or using that scale). Come out of the experience with something that you didn’t possess in your musical toolkit just yesterday.
Get spontaneous
Record a short jam or improv session where you intentionally avoid overthinking and aim to play things that you’ve never tried or thought about before. Make it at stream-of-consciousness as you can. Be sloppy; go for it; have zero judgement about what is coming out of the instrument. Then listen back afterward and note if there were any moments where unexpected creativity emerged. Or perhaps there were nuggets of ideas that can now be taken into your practice time and honed.
Solicit feedback
Regularly ask trusted peers or mentors for feedback on your playing. Use their insights to adjust and refine your approach.
I did this just a few days ago, asking a good friend and recording engineer I work with if there are any elements of my remote recording sounds that he feels I could improve upon. He had some terrific concrete ideas and even sent me two sets of raw tracks from sessions we’ve done together at another studio. He pointed out things that he already digs about my current deliverables, as well as things he would love to see included in the future. What a valuable way for me to compare his sounds and my sounds in my own space, giving me more knowledge and the opportunity to make the sounds being sent from my studio even better. Yeah, it’s cool that things are already good, or even great . . . but how can we make them even better?
Break the mold
This is something that’s intrigued me for a long time. In chats about “covering” other band’s songs live, I have heard so many musicians say that they absolutely love hearing someone’s song interpreted in a completely different way by another artist. But I have almost never heard a musician who says that reinterpret one of their own songs in a drastically different way for a performance. It’s as if the way we first wrote and approached our song is now sacred and can’t be changed. Well, unless someone else decides to do something cool with it someday.
NO! Mix that $#!t up yourself! Make that ballsy rocker a slow, tear-jerking ballad. Just once––try it and see what happens. It may take a while for your brain and ear to fully adjust and accept it, because you are so intimately close to it all, but it just might blow the minds of your audience this weekend. They’ve heard the song a hundred times already and now you do what with it?! Yet another reason to love it. And you.
We could go on and on about possible applications of this concept but the key point is that this formlessness, this regular reinvention . . . it’s a game changer.
Rigid identities and fixed routines might offer comfort in the moment, but they also limit your long-term growth. When you assume formlessness, you continuously evolve, you stay versatile and break free from pigeonholing, and you unlock hidden creative potential. By challenging yourself to adapt (over and over and over again), you discover ideas you never knew you had.
Have any other ideas about where to apply this? Let me know in a comment below!
Happy music making–
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Comments
2 responses to “On Formlessness, Reinvention, and Identity”
I try to play as many styles as I can. I just played last week with a jazz influenced combo and the week before that with an Americana band. I believe that the reason that I can play so many styles is because I grew up in a time when music wasn’t so divided into genres. Since the nineties radio stations started separating into different genres. There were metal stations, rock stations, hip hop stations, etc. In the late sixties and into the seventies there wasn’t this division. There was a pretty wide variety of songs played together. It was nothing to hear harder Rick from Black Sabbath, Deep Purple and Led Zeppelin followed by softer rock byJames Taylor or Jim Croce followed by Jazz influenced rock by The Mahavishnu Orchestra or Billy Cobham followed by Southern Rock by Lynyrd Skynyrd or Marshall Tucker Band etc. They all just fell under the category of rock and would be played by one rock station. Even with all of the different types of music available now drummers coming up in the last twenty to thirty years just don’t have that type of variety offered to them. Now if you listen to a certain type of song an algorithm will just offer you songs in that particular genre.
Ah, the good ol’ algorithm . . . serving up what it’s sure that we already want. I definitely hear you on that. For me, the huge internal push to diversify came from simply seeing that versatility modeled in my early teachers and mentors. It was common to see Gordy Knudtson or David Stanoch layin’ it down solid and loud with a rock band, and then turn around and play a tiny little jazz club the next evening. Drastically different styles, players, gear, approach––everything. I was impressed by all of it and wanted to be like them!