Farewell Letter
“In the end, it’s not the years in your life that count. It’s the life in your years.” – Abraham Lincoln
At the ripe age of 19 I’ve made a realization. A person’s lifetime is far too short. Your extremely short stay at the 5 star hotel we call earth, is as fulfilling as you make it. The impact you have on those around you is limitless if you make the most of your numbered days and nights.
Nearly 4 years ago I chose to create an overwhelmingly simple version of a website that would shape the next few years of my life. My three goofy friends and I came up with Fab4Music, a blog updated daily with new hip hop we liked. The site soon evolved as we added interviews with up and coming artists, album reviews, playlists and concert recaps. We had become a part of the early development of the hip hop blog community.
Through it all, it was about the music. The love of the music. That feeling when you hear a smooth beat, a catchy hook or genius lyrics. The thrill of the car rides bumping the newest single. The heated hip hop discussions. It was all part of a shared experience with friends, supporters, artists and writers.
As the site grew momentum people joined the team and offered insight as well as diverse tastes for the gift we call music. Then came the glory days. Running out of tees and tanks. People anticipating new playlists every week. Connecting with artists on personal levels and helping them reach new heights. Attending concerts and meeting people who praised the site.
It’s not that the glory days ended, they just changed. The blog game was evolving quicker than we could have imagined only a couple years back. Artists were flowing like theMississippiand far too many of them were receiving as much love as a 2nd grade tee ball team. I felt pressured by the blog community, the hype and the artists themselves to post music I didn’t find worthy. I dreaded reading the handfuls of submissions from artists who added Fab4 to their massive list of blogs that would blow them up. I began to feel like other writers and the artists we had come up with had lost the appreciation for what we were about. Nonetheless, the people I always cared about most, friends and supporters, remained loyal.
Somewhere along the way, my own passion began to fade. I felt like Fab4 had become just another note on my to do list. That made me absolutely sick to my stomach. As Asher Roth puts it, “It ain’t supposed to be so hard, I always said I’d quit if it felt like a job.” I could no longer pretend to be happy with my craft. It was unfair to the people who supported our vision from day one, the artists and the game itself.
Our time on Earth should be filled with things we love, not things we feel required to love and remember to live by Michael Jordan’s words, “Limits, like fears, are often just an illusion”.
Some of my life’s greatest memories come from the incredible four years at Fab4 and I thank every single one of you for that. I’ve gained an incredible amount from the experience, learning an enormous amount about the music world as well as myself. If I walk away with one souvenir from the journey it’s the relationships that came out of the endeavor. This was truly unforgettable. Thank you and farewell.
