My Internal Battle between Art and Pop

Abstract Photo by Dan Steven Erickson

I’ve been a creator for my entire life. I started writing songs and plays when I was eight. The first play I wrote was called, Commercial Christmas. I’m not sure how I understood at such a young age that Christmas was an over-commercialized sales event, but I did. And there started my internal battle between art and pop.

My early songs had nothing to do with wanting to write hits. I just thought it was fun, and I used words to express my feelings. My first song, Screaming Mad, was written when I was mad at my mom.

Screaming mad
Close my eyes
Feel like crying
Screaming mad
Close my eyes
Feel like dying
Screaming mad

Throughout my teens, as the child victim of a cult, I wrote songs in my head as means of escape while working as a slave. By then, however, I was dreaming about my songs becoming top-40 hits. I was becoming educated in pop.

We are trained to follow the trends.

The entertainment and media business might just be the biggest enemy of art. Sure, if it weren’t for media, many musicians, writers, and artists would never be known. But when anything becomes mass produced and promoted through a system that reaches the majority of people within a culture, it shapes the art. The art becomes a part of popular culture.

Pop.

When Elvis and The Beatles came on the scene, what did every young American boy want? To become like them. This created imitation. Pop wins. Art takes a back seat.

The majority of my work is simply a mirror.

As a young songwriter in my 20s, my goal was to be discovered. Therefore, I wrote songs I thought would be “hits.” I was basically a mirror of everything I listened to on the radio, a reflection of the musical culture of my time.

As I continued to write, I also continued to discover new music, and old. I went deeper into the past and discovered blues and traditional country. Again, I became a reflection of what I heard. I might have been a mirror to the past, but I was still imitating. And even though I was writing deep country and blues, I still sensed more pop than art.

Even so, through the years, I was becoming an artist in my own right. I didn’t always write with the intent of getting hits, and I didn’t always imitate my idols. I slowly found my own voice in the arena of song. Still, I felt the majority of my catalog was pop. I suppose this has to do with formula. Most songs have verses, choruses, bridges, expected patterns. That within itself feels more like pop than art.

Weird songs, ambient music, and abstract photography.

Sometime in my mid-40s I started to become disillusioned with my songwriting journey. I was tired of writing songs that sounded like all the other songs ever written. Around that time, I also discovered Bill Callahan. His songs were different. They did not follow the formula. So, I wrote a batch of songs that also did not follow traditional songwriting formula. But I was still being a mirror, an imitator.

It wasn’t until I started playing with electronic music programming that I really broke away from formula. I experimented. I became a composer of chaos and drone. Nothing had to make sense. The digital audio workshop was my canvas. Sometimes, I’d recite odd poems over the top of a composition. Or I’d go sample strange sounds and program them into the mix.

I was free from formula. However, in time, I found that even weird music has its own formula, it’s just less obvious. Still, I feel that my work as an electronic music composer has been my strongest art.

Around the same time, in my early-to-mid 50s, I started taking more pictures. Although, I primarily like scenic photography, I also found myself drawn toward taking photos in ways that were very abstract.

Art.

The dilemma.

After about seven years of playing with ambient, drone, and experimental compositions, I returned to more traditional songwriting. It was exciting to feel that old rush of energy when words and music come together. Just as I did when I was younger, I knew many of the songs I was writing had commercial potential. Yep. I was back to pop.

Thus, the dilemma. If you follow media, culture, trends, you regurgitate it. You are part of an echo chamber. You are pop. From an artist’s perspective, that can feel cheap and phony, even if what you’re doing is good. It feels like a product, even if you can’t find buyers.

On the other hand, if you dedicate yourself to things more artistic, many people will not understand your work. They might say, “That looks like a blob. I don’t get it. Can’t you paint a picture?” Furthermore, art almost requires that you turn off the media, walk away from popular culture, ignore trends, isolate yourself, and get lost in your work.

In the end, all of it, pop and art, only has the value we give it as a society, as a culture. Art, however, has one up on pop. Art holds more value to the creator. As a creator, I value my work in which I took more risks, where I was brave enough to allow imagination to override tradition and popular expectation. Although I have had little monetary reward, choosing art over pop creates a greater sense of discovery in the process. It feels more true.

But like most of us, I want to fit in. I want to be understood. I want people to like what I do. And so the internal battle between art and pop continues forevermore. Although, I am giving less shits these days. – dse

It’s that Time of the Year: Goal Setting for 2026

Most people start thinking about the new year in late December. Not me. I often start considering goals and updating my website in October or November. It’s that time of year.

If you’ve followed me since my minimalist days, you might remember that I made an annual post every December. I’d offer a list of resolutions and goals and cross my fingers. About half of my goals were not easily attainable and I’d miss the mark every year. Then about six or seven years ago I said fuck it. No more specific goals.

I still need to hit the reset button.

So, I’m kind of done with setting specific goals about social media, book writing, money, exercise etc. Instead, I tend to occasionally hit the reset button and make general observations about what I’m doing and where I’m going in life.

Of course, life is uncertain, and I like to remain open to spontaneous opportunities, so none of this is written in stone. But here are a few things I’d like to do in the coming year.

10 things I hope to do before the end of next year.

  1. Give my website a simple remodel.
  2. Continue writing and recording songs and music.
  3. Write poetry and consider short story.
  4. Keep walking regularly and participate in other physical activities.
  5. Monitor my health and see experts on my blood condition.
  6. Read on a fairly regular basis.
  7. Consider a second piece of real estate in Kansas or Missouri.
  8. Retire from my current job and move back to Maine.
  9. Create a YouTube Studio in a different location and focus on a few strategies to promote the channel.
  10. Travel and work on becoming a better photographer.

Sounds like a lot, but it’s actually simple.

I’m sure I might think of more, like get a dog or get rid of extra stuff, but that’s the basic list. And here’s the thing. I wrote this list in about five minutes and everything on the list is very doable.

I will likely accomplish at least 8 or 9 things on this list, maybe all of them. Why? Because they are primarily extensions of what I’m already doing. The plans have been set in motion. Number 7 is likely the least certain, but note I said, “consider.” I did not suggest I would definitively buy a second piece of real estate.

So there you have it, an early list of things I hope to accomplish in 2026. I encourage you to make your own list, but keep it relatively loose. – dse

A Week in Maine

Old Orchard Beach Maine – Photo by Dan Steven Erickson

I’m back in Maine for a week. Well, I have three days left here now. What’s that got to do with songwriting and creativity? Quite a bit, actually.

I didn’t bring a guitar. I haven’t written any lyrics or poetry. But I’m refueling.

How? Hikes. Drives. Mountains. Oceans. Coffee. Books.

This refueling between creative output is very important. It’s part of the creative process.

Finally, I’m sorry Tennessee, but you’ve got nothing on Maine.

I think I’d rather live in the beauty of Maine and forgo any illusions of performing music and getting songs published in Nashville.

That said, don’t be surprised if I move back to Maine in 2026.

Here are a few more photos taken this week. – dse

Old Orchard Beach Maine – Photo by Dan Steven Erickson

 

Sunrise – Photo by Dan Steven Erickson

 

Scarborough Marsh – Photo by Dan Steven Erickson

 

Saco River – Photo by Dan Steven Erickson

Something Is Changing

Changing leaves in NH – Photo be Dan Steven Erickson

You ever feel like you’re on the verge of a change for the good? I often get that feeling. On the other hand, I often feel like the world, and my life, are going to hell. The truth is we are always on the verge of something new. Something is changing.

As a writer, songwriter, and artist, I purposefully attempt to occasionally go outside of the boundaries created by culture and genre. I think that makes one a better creator. Then there are other times when change just seems to come on its own.

We are living in unique times.

With all the political uncertainty in the United States today, we are living in unique and scary times. I don’t think it’s a stretch to say something is changing in this regard. The problem is that we are in a very uncertain place. As of now, it seems those changes are for the worse. However, remember, the darkest hour is right before the dawn.

Technology has also changed the way we live, the way we communicate, the way we isolate ourselves like we never have before. Most of us get stuck in loops, whether we endlessly scroll social media, work online, watch porn, or create content, it begins to feel like a repetitive and negative cycle.

I’m moving toward something new.

I’m tired of working 9-5. But I’m also tired of creating content that doesn’t seem to reach many people. It all starts to feel in vain. I keep doing the same things over and over. Of course, I work for the money, the need to survive. Creating content likely works in a similar fashion, I do it for the need to express myself. It’s also therapeutical.

But I often wish that my content could manifest itself to be more helpful to more people. I’m a teacher at heart. In fact, I hope to retire from academic advising and teach part time as soon as it feels financially doable.

But what if my content could reach more people and I could teach others things that might be life changing? I often think about this, and often feel like something is leading me in a direction where that could happen. I just don’t know exactly where.

On the other hand, I’ve played this blogging-writing-songwriting game long enough to know that there is no magic. You can’t gain a larger audience without a lot of work or a lot of luck.

That said, I enjoy creating content, other than the fact it can feel like another endless loop. If I could actually reach more people and help others change their lives, I would. I’m just not sure it’s going to happen.

So again, there is no finality.

Like many of my short essays, I’m not sure exactly what the point is. Futility? There is no finality. I don’t know what I’ll be doing in five minutes or five years. For now, I’ll continue working my day job, writing here, and posting songs on my YouTube channel.

But something is changing. I feel it. I just hope it’s changing for the better. – dse

Why I Won’t Use AI for Songwriting

I’m not a hard anti-AI guy, but as a songwriter, no thank you.

I’ve actually played around with ChatGPT for writing lyrics and Suno for creating songs. In both cases, it can be entertaining to play with, but I have no desire to use AI for songwriting. Why?

  1. My lyrics are my stories. AI strings mediocre lines together and calls it a song. I will admit that I asked AI to write some humorous songs that were pretty hilarious. But I’ll use my own lyrics, thank you.
  2. AI music is too perfect. Seriously, I can tell the entire song is programmed. But it’s not just AI. It started with drum machines, digital audio workshops, and autotune. Yes, I program electronic music. But my goal is usually to do things more artistically and less for commercial appeal.
  3. AI music lacks soul. This is the big one for me. I dare you to create AI that can match the raw emotional power of Miles Davis, old AC-DC, John Lee Hooker, or Sex Pistols. It’s not going to happen. If and when it does, we can talk again.

Check out my video to learn more about my thoughts on AI and songwriting. And check out my YouTube Channel to hear some of my songwriting. – dse

Cardboard

Is it just me or does our world feel like cardboard.

You know, everything starts to look and sound the same. Is this something that just comes with age, or has most everything around us become truly homogenized?

I moved from Maine to Nashville last year. I was excited to move to Music City. After all, I’ve written over 1500 songs. But it didn’t take long to notice something about this place. Everything looks the same.

I live in a mega apartment complex that looks like all the other mega apartment complexes. I drive to work and pass the strip malls that all look the same and house the same businesses that I see in most cities across America.

I go downtown and hear the same music blaring out of bars that are only different by name. Young musicians are playing the same cover songs over and over again.

I turn on the radio to hear music that has an electronic beat and programmed chord progressions and autotune that makes the vocals sound perfect.

I get online to see the same five news stories spun by 20 different talking heads. Video production all starts to look the same. And now AI is giving us perfect-looking people that don’t really exist. It’s cardboard.

Is it just me? Or has our world become consistently more boring and cardboard-like over the last 20-30 years?

I’ve got nothing against Nashville or Las Vegas or Phoenix or Seattle or Kansas City, but it’s really starting to feel like it doesn’t matter where you are in America. It looks and feels just like where you were last week.

Perhaps the only escape is to get back to nature. – dse