It’s interesting that when you stop to look at yourself.  In the current place of the timeline of your life, it’s probably hard to imagine you’re anywhere near the beginning. Especially if you’re older than say, 25. By 25, you’ve put in some honest time toward your development as a participant in the greater human experience. Hell, that’s a quarter of a century. You can finally rent a car now.

However, when you consider the average life expectancy is upwards of 75 years, 25 is clearly closer to the beginning. As is 30. And 35. Now think about your life as an artist. Of those 25 (or so) years, how many of them have you spent working toward your career? And how many of those can you honestly say you’ve been a working “professionally”? Be honest, you’re just starting out.

I bring all of this up because I recently celebrated my birthday, and it got me thinking about where I am in my endeavors, where I have been so far, and, of course, where I will eventually go. The other day, I saw this amazing collection of photos of rock stars, two pictures each, both early in their careers and now. It was amazing.

First of all, the fact that the majority of them were still alive was no small miracle. Especially considering the lifestyles and occupational hazards that tend to accompany rock stardom. As well, though, to think that when I saw the Rolling Stones in ’89 they were merely halfway through their careers, and yet everyone marveled at how “old” they were getting, still up there singing “Satisfaction.” Might we all be so fortunate. I often wonder if Mick Jagger might have thought he was coming into the home stretch back then or if he was merely catching his stride.

I always get a kick out of artists who try to convince themselves (and the rest of the world) that it’s time to retire, maybe make the rounds one more time in some self-congratulatory “Farewell” tour. How silly they must feel a couple years later when they realize just how much closer to the beginning they actually were than anywhere near ready for retirement. (picture Johnny Cash, hunched over in a rocking chair, singing “Personal Jesus,” and compare that to a relatively fresh-faced Garth Brooks announcing his retirement. Seriously?) It begins to seem a bit contrived, if not disingenuous. I remember hearing once that Willie Nelson‘s fiddle player had always pictured himself playing that thing right on up to the edge of his grave as he dies and falls on in. I always liked that image.

I’m often amazed at how there are but 12 notes on the staff and yet there are endless combinations of those very same notes that we call melodies. And just when I think I’ve heard it all before, a new song will come on (or, even better, an old classic that I’ve never heard before) and fill me with the utmost sense of joy and inspiration. I’ll think of all the things I’ve learned, the hours and years spent honing my craft, the milestones and accomplishments, and, astonishingly, I’ll feel somehow that I’m only just now at the beginning of this wonderful journey. It sounds corny, I know. But seriously. There really is nothing like the joy of making music.

Sure, people can say that acts like Aerosmith and the Rolling Stones are out there raking it in year after year and that it’s merely to afford them their extravagant lifestyles. That may be true to some degree, but I have to imagine, if they’re having as much fun as I’m sure I would be having at that stage of my career, they’re loving every last minute of it. And, not surprisingly, they’re probably more and more grateful with every show. I doubt you’ll ever see Willie Nelson give some silly old “Farewell” tour.

I actually wrote a song about all this.  It’s called “Starting Over.” I’ll leave you with a bit of it:

“No matter how far and long I go, it always feels like I’m starting over.
I get it down, chalk it up then I’m right back to starting over.
Thought I had it all figured out, turns out I was only starting over.
Back to one, take two, on the count of three I’m starting over.
One step at a time, in a drunken beeline,
if I lose or if I’m winning, I’m always right back at the beginning…”

- Tony Lucca