Working Hard or Hardly Working?
Working Hard or Hardly Working?
Burnout. The true cost of a creative career from low-income backgrounds.
In his memoir Yes Man, Danny Wallace said, “The only time you have no opportunities is when you decide to stop taking them”. It profoundly impacted me when I first read it. I developed a spidey sense with the ability to sniff out an opportunity in a force nine gale. It’s a valuable tool when building a career in something you’re passionate about. However, after years of following this, I now find myself deeply, deeply tired and always on the precipice of collapse. So, as I oscillate between burnout and exhaustion, should this be the cost of following your passion?
In my day job, I am a recording engineer. I’m the person who sits behind the mixing desk and hits the record button in the recording studio before the band start playing. Although, the job is way more complicated than that and actually incredibly consuming. I’ve been fortunate to have some significant success in my career. I have worked on number 1 records, worked with Grammy-winning producers, and was also named Break-through Engineer of the Year in 2022. Every milestone, achievement, and success was me making sure I was in the room and grabbing each opportunity with both hands. But rather than feeling more secure in my position in the industry, I’m left in a precarious state that if I take my foot off the pedal, my whole career will disintegrate. Unfortunately, I’m not alone in this.
Help Musicians and The Musicians' Union published the Musicians' Census late last year. The report aimed to figure out the state of the music industry. Not surprising to anyone who works in recording, it found that producers and engineers suffered the worst from poor mental health and well-being, and a lot of it comes down to burnout. Studio sessions are run for 10-18 hours daily, sometimes for days. I’ve been on sessions of 18 hours a day for a whole month with no day off to get a project completed. There is nothing more enticing than the feeling of working on something special. The fight within us ignites, and the jeopardy is exhilarating, but it is not healthy. Most of the time, the payoff isn’t there.
Burnout is a death spiral of poor mental health because no matter how hard you work, it will never be your best work. Therefore, it becomes impossible to be lifted out of it.
Whenever people discover what I do for work, they say it must be nice doing a job you love because it doesn’t feel like work. I always resent this notion. When your work is also your passion, you’ll graft unreasonable hard. However, the merger of a vocation and advocation also creates a shift in commitment. Suddenly, the best you can do is no longer good enough, and we will work until something is the best it can be. It’s a subtle shift, but this expectation is the cause of burnout. Don’t get me wrong, I love what I do, and I’m prepared to sacrifice everything other people call life just so whatever I’m working on can reach this standard. But because I’m prepared to do it doesn’t mean it should be expected.
There is a turning point from working too hard that, in fact, you’re hardly working at all. You’re present but not involved. In a daze, trying to get to the end. This is not fun. It’s not fulfilling. It’s not right. If there is one thing I’ve learned, it is that to create your best work, you need to be rested. We’ve all heard the mantra of working smarter, not harder. This shifts the blame, making it a ‘you problem’ rather than a systemic one.
Had I inflicted this burnout on myself? For a long time, I believed this was the case. This was just another part of my addictive personality and my inability to say no to things I enjoy. Creative jobs are notorious for not paying well. Somehow, they all gravitate towards the expensive parts of the UK. If you come from a low-income background, you are forced to work longer and harder to keep up. No matter how much smarter you work to try and get ahead. This is the barrier that keeps rising every day. Now we see across the creative industries a wipeout of talent from across the UK and the rise of the nepo babies.
Is the cost worth it? Well, there is no better feeling than being in a studio when the magic happens. That ‘a-ha’ moment when everything clicks into place, and shivers run down your neck. It’s the most exciting feeling in the world. But it comes at a price. I’ve missed key life events, key family events, key everything. All because I’ve allowed a passion to get out of control. Maybe avocations are not meant to be the same as vocations. I suppose it’s too late for me to know otherwise.
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