Taking care of business.

In my business consulting I often rhapsodize about great rock & roll bands as a model for twenty-first century business teams. My clients are often incredulous at first, perhaps because they view rock groups as lazy, drug-addled slackers. At the very least they don't think of bands as ambitious, hardworking paragons of productivity.

Admittedly, bands sometimes give off an air of insouciance and even brag about their non-work ethic. In the rock classic "Taking Care of Business," Bachman-Turner Overdrive appears to be speaking for rock & rollers everywhere with the infamous lines: "We love to work at nothing all day."

This is all part of the charming and alluring mythology of rock & roll, a wonderful narrative of pop hedonism which most musicians seem all too willing to perpetuate.

But the story, I'm afraid, is apocryphal. I've never met a professional rock & roll band that did not have major dreams and ambitions—and did not invest a big chunk of life rehearsing and performing in pursuit of them, whether to sell hit records, play the best clubs, or attain a high level of musicianship.


The mystery of collaboration.

I recently heard an album of two talented performers which drove home to me—yet again—the power of collaborative creativity. It wasn't a rock & roll partnership I was hearing (which is what I usually prattle about) but more of an impressionistic aural blend of two classically-trained musicians in full improvisational glory.

But whatever the idiom, the outcome was a confirmation that surrendering one's ego to a collaborative project can be a win to the third power. (This has applications to the business world, of course, where individuals of every stripe need to put their heads together to create new products, services, marketing strategies, business models, etcetera—a theme I will return to in the future.)