Rock and roll is a risk

Rock and Roll is a risk
You Risk Being Ridiculed\

• Brendan, in Sing Street

There’s a scene in Sing Street where the older brother tells the protagonist that rock is about taking risks, even the risk of being ridiculed. There are thousands of cover bands, he tells him, everybody starts cover bands, and in every one of them there’s a middle-aged man who regrets never having had the balls to write his own song.

The world is full of blogs that are like cover bands, geared toward clickbait, pitifully picking up the pennies the ads leave them. Some do nothing but copy and badly translate content produced elsewhere. And still, some of them are successful and there are people who make a living at it, no doubt.

But where’s the original contribution? Where’s the risk? Why is there so little technology content in Spanish that’s original, or that at least tries to be different?

That’s what I’ve tried to do all these years: write about technology and science from my own perspective. Write my own rock song, risk being ridiculed.

But writing has an opportunity cost, and a blog has other needs on top of that. For example, years ago I decided to abandon Wordpress, and I couldn’t find any platform that gave me what I needed, so I built my own blog server, but that took extra effort I never counted on when I got into this.

You can never do anything by half. Do you understand that?
– Raphina in Sing Street

Let me tell you a story from my youth. When I was about sixteen, some school friends and I started our own cover band (I know, I know, but stay with me).

We landed a slot at an event being held in Chuquicamata, the mining town in northern Chile. There were well-known guest artists from “the capital”, but we got to open the show with three songs. It was a chance worth grabbing and we rehearsed like maniacs for weeks. It so happened that around that time my old man got sick, and while he traveled to Santiago to start his cancer treatment, I was straining to pull off something that was beyond my meager abilities as a drummer.

We had decided to open our set with an instrumental version of Maniac, a well-known track from the soundtrack of Flashdance, a piece that starts with an electronic percussion sequence I had to emulate with a hi-hat and a cowbell wrapped in cloth. When all you have is an old jazz kit from the school band, you have to get creative.

The day came, and while my old man lay in the Clínica Indisa, hoping to recover, I played my heart out in front of two thousand people.

How I hit those cymbals that day!

I remember being so nervous that my arms and legs felt stiff. The bars went by, boom boom, “she´ s a maniac, maaaniaaac...”

Our little set ended and I felt the audience’s applause. I don’t know how many of you have felt the applause of thousands of strangers for something you performed or made with nothing but your hands, your effort and the desire to please. But the best part came a few minutes later, when we walked out.

There was a group of kids in the street. We knew some of them and went over. They were outside the small indoor arena, listening through the speakers that had been set up for those who couldn’t get in. That’s when one of my friends asked them if they’d been there from the start, and what they thought of the band that opened the show, winking at us, and we grinned. Then one of them said: “Yeah, I heard them, they were really good and the drummer was spectacular!”

I read that last paragraph and can’t help thinking about my vanity. I believe that was the moment it settled into my personality, hahaha. But put yourselves in my place: wouldn’t you feel tremendous pride after hearing a line like that? That night the thousands of rounds of applause weighed as much in my heart as that kid’s opinion.

I couldn’t stop thinking about my old man, and later, in bed, I cried before falling asleep. I cried from joy and from pain. My old man was dying and at the same time I was getting recognition from a handful of kids in my town. Life is like that. There are many events of sad joy and joyful sadness in my life, along with all the other moments worth remembering.

And why am I telling you this?

Because I just wanted to share with you my intention to keep risking being ridiculed.

This site is getting a fresh start in its twelfth year. I’ll go back to writing more regularly, and so you can see I mean it, I’ve signed this blog up on Patreon, and also because I need your applause.

Support this blog on Patreon

Crowdfunding

Micro-patronage, or crowdfunding, is one of the mechanisms for collectively financing projects. Keeping this blog going has opportunity costs and operating costs, and in other years I’ve looked for ways to cover them. There was even a time when this blog ran ads.

The problem with ads is that they clutter the site. I remember writing a post criticizing the evangelizers who despise science and my site filled up with religious ads.

But I also see crowdfunding as a way to build ties with you, my readers, a way to know who you are and feel you closer. It’s as if you were buying me a beer or a lunch, as several of you have done over the years. I have readers in Mexico, Argentina and Spain whom I’ve never met in person, with whom I’ve traded emails or messages on social media, who are already willing to chip in.

I’m sure several of you want to help keep “La Naturaleza del Software” going. Some of you have written to tell me how one of my posts let you open a discussion with your colleagues about how to improve, or that you simply saw yourselves in some personal anecdote. Now I’m inviting you to contribute a small sum of money.

Rewards, rewards

The best part is that everyone who contributes will get a regular gift in their inbox. Through Patreon I’ll share exclusive content that won’t be published on this site, along with previews of some of my projects (like my upcoming books).

That’s my invitation. Every time I see a notification from Patreon the pride of being recognized grows in my heart, and it motivates me to keep getting better at this, like on that night in 1984.

You can contribute at three levels, from one dollar up to twenty-five dollars, with different kinds of rewards for your support.

But even if no contributions come in, the commitment to post more often stands: you’ll get at least one article a week starting today.

Welcome to the new era of La Naturaleza del Software. This is going to be a lot of fun, I promise.