Ninety Percent Perspiration
Disclaimer: As someone who makes his living implementing technical systems, I'm naturally biased towards the "implementation" side of the idea/implementation equation. Notwithstanding the foregoing, I also spend a fair amount of professional time ideating, and assure my readers (both of you) that I am sympathetic to both sides.
In the course of my professional life, I am presented with a great many richly-detailed and enthusiastically-presented ideas (but of course -- who on earth can help but think that their child is the cutest?). Sometimes, the presentation of these ideas is preceded by the traditional Kabuki of the non-disclosure agreement (NDAs are a topic for another day... don't get me started or I might violate one by accident...), sometimes not. Regardless of relative secrecy, the idea-presenters typically have one thing in common -- they almost always think that their brainchild is unique and special, while simultaneously holding the belief (frequently without benefit or burden of technical training necessary to determine so) that the details of its heretofore imaginary implementation will amount to a list of relatively simple tasks to be executed... by someone...
In short: The idea is unique and special. The implementation, however, should be "easy".
(I have trained myself, in the interest of decorum, to refrain from jumping in at this point in these conversations and inquiring as to why the parent of the brainchild in question has yet to implement it themselves.)
This misconception can often lead to a concomitant and proportional misconception as to the appropriate relative weighting of interest in a proposed enterprise, but that, like NDAs, is a topic for another day.
The topic for today, rather, is a pair of related rules that I would like to propose:
First, the "Math is hard" rule:
The unique specialness of a given idea varies directly with the difficulty of its implementation.
and second, the "Underpants Gnomes" rule:
The value of an idea varies directly with the amount of its implementation that has been completed.
(There is a third rule, probably more apropos of a post on NDAs -- the "infinite monkeys" rule -- which states that any idea good enough that you've started trying to implement it is also being worked on by at least two other people you've never met, but I'll leave that one for another day as well).
To recapitulate my disclaimer, and armor myself against the pitchfork-toting hordes quick to label me a techie snob: I am not dismissing the concept of the value of an idea, and certainly not the value of inspiration. I'm simply applying a sensible discount to the value of a given idea, based on a couple of measurable factors: how hard is this to implement? And how much have you already built? If the answer to these questions are "trivial" and "nothing", I contend that the value of the idea naturally approaches zero.
This is not a bad thing.
Unless it's your idea, and you're trying to trade it for an equity stake in something. Then it might be bad for you.
But it's still good for the commons. As long as you don't over-value it or hold on to it too tightly.
This was made clear and plain to me in a blog post that made me smile -- participants in a recent startup weekend event came up with 999 business ideas (naturally, they're of varying value) -- and unceremoniously loosed them on the world, free for the taking, to be implemented as the reader sees fit. Or not.
Awesome. I wish I had time to do some of these.
And there, my friends, is the rub -- the single most precious non-renewable resource in the universe is time. Execution, not inspiration, is the rate-limiting step, in nearly all cases.
In that vein, I present the first (of many, I hope) freely-offered no-strings-attached idea, yours for the taking. Do with it what you will. Or not. If you take this one and run with it, send me a postcard or something.
I've been pondering this one since i saw the following:

I couldn't agree more. Particularly since Amazon started blowing out great albums at $5 a pop, so much of my music is purely digital now. With my vinyl records and CDs, I can -- sometimes -- scratch the "who played that amazing part?" itch by going to the shelf. With MP3s, I'm left guessing too frequently.
Furthermore, as an admitted, unrepentant, unreconstructed music and recording snob, I frequently want to know not only who played on an album, but who produced it, who engineered it, where it was recorded, and as much of the minutia, myth, and legend surrounding its creation as I can find. The 33 1/3 book series is absolutely fantastic for this, but the obvious problem here is one of scaling -- there's no way that 33 1/3 will ever cover a significant portion of my record collection (nor should they), so these exegeses are a rare treat (particularly the volume about Paul's Boutique... but I digress).
It seems to me that, in iTunes or the equivalent, I ought to be able to source this kind of metadata for any track playing. I mean, I'm connected to the Internet all the time, right? And this information is out there.
So, the idea -- it's pretty simple, really -- a comprehensive online database of metadata regarding the personnel, recording staff, and circumstances surrounding the creation of each album and single out there. Much of this data already exists in Wikipedia, particularly for better-known albums, but it's not necessarily structured. A "placeholder" for each album could be gleaned using the Wikipedia API, and user-generated structured data could be added, much in the same way that the Gracenote CDDB was originally created. Over time, the crowd could refine and add to this structured pool of music metadata, which would be linked to tracks and albums similarly to how CDDB track listings are linked (based on track index / track time). The CDDB could even serve as the base of records from which to start.
As this pool of data is added to, the experience of each album could become that much richer, perhaps allowing for addition of user-generated imagery.
I have no idea how anyone would make money from this. But I know it would be incredibly useful to me, and the legions of other music freaks out there.
Anyone?
if you have to work while on vacation…
...you might as well have a decent office window view...
Playing with your betters
I have a trio of activities to which I am, with varying degrees of skill and regularity, devoted: playing music, skiing, and computer programming. I have developed each of these skills over the years, with a few exceptions, without a formal course of study. Sure, I took a few guitar lessons, and have fond, if hazy, memories of ski school as a kid, but by and large, I've come by the skills I possess via self-directed study, trial and (sometimes painful) error, and, most importantly, learning from those around me.
Exponents of the Peter Principle tend to see in every skilled human an ultimate, inevitable apex of their ability to perform increasingly complex, challenging tasks. The conventional wisdom is that hierarchies tend to promote individuals one step beyond their potential (to their "level of incompetence"), and that the incompetence displayed by each employee in their Final Resting Place is a matter of predestination, determined by the ultimate limit of their potential. The perfectionist in me, the relentless self-improver, is not quite ready to accept this fatalist attitude, and I'd like to propose an alternative explanation to ol' Peter.
Everything I've ever gotten better at, I've done so in the tutelage, shadow, or grudging tolerance, of someone (sometimes far) better at it than me. Every time I play music with someone like drum kingpin John Lamb, I learn a little more about listening, and rhythm, and when not to play. Every time I ski with a good friend of mine with whom I had the pleasure of skiing last week, I get a little bit better.
It's not easy to accept that someone is better than you at something, but once you swallow your pride, dig in, and try to play at their level, great things can happen. I think, perhaps, that the fact that it's easier, and more comfortable, and more secure, to try to avoid collaborating with people who could dust you in a dogfight, leads many people to short-circuit the development of their skills. It's not so much that they've reached their inevitable pinnacle of competence, but that they've put themselves there unwittingly -- by being too shy, insecure, or falsely confident in the skills they already have to accept that anyone could teach them anything.
So, I try to remind myself of this every time I plug in my guitar, strap on my skis, or fire up the keyboard alongside someone who has something to teach me -- and I try to remember to be grateful. After all, the perfection of character is never complete.
Pangaea Project Benefit with the Everyone Orchestra
I'm absolutely thrilled to be involved in the production of the upcoming Pangaea Project Benefit Concerts at the Crystal Ballroom here in Portland, OR. An annual tradition, the concerts benefit The Pangaea Project, a non-profit group that does local and international leadership development work with low-income students.
As if it weren't enough for the concerts to be for a good cause, they also manage to wrangle an absolutely smashing lineup of musicians each year -- and this year is no different: Steve Berlin of Los Lobos, Michael Kang from SCI, Will Bernard, Stanton Moore, Scott Law, and many others, all mixed into the magically delicious musical smoothie that is the Everyone Orchestra. Never the same band twice, EO, led by conductor Matt Butler, is a heady, excursive trip down improv lane, with twists, turns, jumps and shouts that never fail to delight.
EO's performing two nights -- May 16th and 17th -- and it's going to be a blast. We just finished a big push last week to get the website launched and the event announced, and I'm very happy with the results so far -- tickets, lineup, assorted eye candy, etc -- it's all here:
The Pangaea Project Benefit with the Everyone Orchestra
Hope to see you there!
New look
I've decided to even out the content & look of my personal domain -- it's been completely given over to music for some time -- so it represents a more balanced look at who I am and what I do, and provides me a place to pontificate as needed.
To that end, I''ve moved the music stuff over to myspace, and my upcoming gig mailing list is over at my shiny new music-marketing site, AudienceHype.
This site, in addition to being a glorified resume and playground for various projects in Ruby, Rails, PHP and whatever else I stumble upon, will be a clearinghouse for posts on anything on which I stop to formulate an opinion worth sharing. Enjoy!
Oh, and send Gene some mail. Gene likes mail.
cheers,
gene
