Drinking From a Firehose

Is it possible for an artist to thrive without a deep relationship with other art and music?

If we are honest, the answer is probably yes. Every so often, I meet artists who seem to have been born in a creative vacuum, unburdened by obvious heroes or years of formal study. They exist, strange and singular, products of some cosmic trick.

But what is much more common is encountering artists who are doing incredibly interesting things, cultivating passionate followings, and demonstrating a deeper connection to other artists and music than I could ever imagine. These creators can list every gear detail used by a legend like Prince or know every solo of Bud Powell by heart. They connect with bespoke synth manufacturers in Italy, reference obscure philosophy, and rank one-handed piano concertos.

They know stuff. They have studied it, often through deep personal obsession and intense dedication.

This realization leads to a profound question: Have you spent the time to be a true student of the greats? To dig into the material that truly inspires you with depth and vigor?

Pianist Kiefer illustrates this beautifully. When students ask him how to sound like Herbie Hancock or Robert Glasper, he doesn’t offer simple directions. Instead, he asks: “How many Herbie songs have you learned? How many Glasper pieces do you know how to play?” The answer is almost always silence—they haven’t done the necessary work.

Sometimes the most effective paths are the hardest to see. To achieve greatness in any field, one must immerse oneself in its labyrinthine passageways, letting the messy existence of that art envelop you like a misty cloak. You need to learn things.

Yet, when I bring this up to my accountability group, the response is often: “We know, but our problem isn’t listening enough; it’s taking in too much.”

In today’s world, we face a deluge of content. Every time we pick up our phones, it feels like raising a firehose to our faces, trying desperately to sip knowledge while waves of high-pressure information blast us mercilessly. It is not uncommon to listen to eight hours straight of music without being able to name a single artist.

The challenge isn’t a lack of input; it’s the failure to absorb anything meaningful. How do we ensure that our constant creative fodder feeds our artistic vocabulary productively, instead of overwhelming us?

What’s Your Input Persona?

To deal with this noise, I developed a concept called the Input Persona. The idea is to create a character based on your natural strengths that guides you in how you learn and filter information.

For instance, Questlove of the Roots embodies the persona of the Archivist. He is a musical historian who meticulously preserves cultural legacy, whether by producing documentaries or mastering obscure funk and soul records. This focused attention allows him to absorb knowledge in a way that sticks.

I, on the other hand, identify more as an Educator. My strength lies in diving absurdly deep into a specific topic to share it with others. When I wanted to study Chopin’s Raindrops Prelude, I didn’t just read; I consumed biographies, watched interviews, listened to podcasts, and produced a 30-minute podcast episode. Sharing the knowledge became the most powerful incentive for true digestion.

Other personas emerge naturally as well. A Synthwave artist might be a Hacker, obsessively seeking to understand the code behind sounds. A film scorer like Cristobal Tapia De Veer seems to embody an Anthropologist, willing to immerse himself in musical subcultures for weeks at a time to gain total understanding.

There is also the Hunter-Gatherer persona, someone who prioritizes movement and experience over fixation. This approach encourages creative problem-solving: “If your environment doesn’t feed you, move on,” and “make your own tools.”

Learning that educating others accelerates personal growth has guided me in managing this information flood. It’s a powerful reminder that the way we approach knowledge is just as important as the knowledge itself. So, what is your input persona? Take on the role, and let it help you break through the noise.