Own It

Back when I was in college, starting my first company, I read every business book I could get my hands on.  For a several-year spree, I made my way through all of the business classics.  And then for several years after that, I still kept up with new bestsellers.

But, over time, I found myself reading fewer and fewer business books.  In part, because most didn’t really have anything new to say.  And, in part, because most were terribly, terribly written – a chapter’s worth of ideas stretched to hundreds of pages through needless repetition and bland anecdote filler.

Sure, I discovered a handful of great volumes in the past decade – like Scaling Up and The Lean Startup– that I re-read, refer back to, and recommend. But, mostly, I was out of the business book game.

That’s why, though it was recommended by several different mutual friends, I was initially reluctant to read Jocko Willink’s Extreme Ownership.  The book extends the lessons Jocko and his co-author Leif Babson learned as Navy SEALs (both as commanders in Iraq, and then leading the SEAL’s officer training program back stateside) to the business and not-for-profit world, where they’d been consulting for several years.  As much as I steer clear of most business books, I tend to skip pretty much all military history books.  So, despite thinking very highly of Jocko, his book seemed like a total miss for me.

But since it was published and climbed the bestseller lists, I kept hearing about it – whether from articles and podcasts, or colleagues and friends.  So earlier this month, I decided to finally give it a read.

And, in short, I’ve very glad I did.  It’s the first business book in a couple of years that I would actually recommend.

Further, though it’s pitched to a corporate audience, Extreme Ownership is actually about leadership in the broadest sense.  Anyone who works with other people, on pretty much anything, would probably benefit from the book’s insights.

Each chapter follows a simple, standard structure: a story from the authors’ time as SEALs (whether coaching young officers through a training boat race in San Diego, or rescuing hostages in Ramadi), a broader principle drawn from the story, and then an example of how that principle applied in their civilian consulting work.

The chapters are concise, engaging, and fluff-free.  And all of them gave me food for thought.  Fundamentally, they each boil down to the titular idea of extreme ownership – taking responsibility for everything that happens around you, even if it seems like it’s out of your direct control.  If your subordinates are dropping the ball, perhaps it’s because you’re not sufficiently helping them get things done; if your boss is constantly demanding updates and micro-managing, perhaps you’re not providing proactive enough upstream communication; and if you’re caught flat-footed by an unforeseen move by a competitor or in the market, maybe you didn’t deeply enough consider and prepare contingency plans.

Blaming everyone around you is a common default – in the business world, and the world as a whole.  Jocko and Leif make a strong case for taking the opposite approach – pointing the finger at yourself first, then building positive strategies and responses based firmly in the belief that the buck, at all times, stops with you.

As compared to Scaling Up or Lean Startup, the book falls short in providing a specific, actionable business road map.  But it’s also much broader in focus than either of those two.  While they’re only useful if you’re starting and quickly growing a company, <i>Extreme Ownership</i> is applicable to basically everyone.

In summary: Extreme Ownership – two thumbs up, and definitely worth the read.

Sincerest Form of Flattery

Special thanks to Jess, who discovered the Instagram account of (Buffy, Angel, etc.) actor Tom Lenk.

With a lot of creativity, and apparently even more free time, he recreates celebrity / fashion shots with himself as the model, using random materials from around his house.

Consider Celine Dion’s 2017 Billboard Awards look, which he knocks off with some white pantyhose, Glad trash bags, a KONG dog toy, and a bunch of old McDonalds Happy Meal toys:

A post shared by Tom Lenk (@tommylenk) on

Or Lena Dunham’s Met Gala gown, which took a tablecloth, a pair of jazz pants, and a wig worn as a bun:

A post shared by Tom Lenk (@tommylenk) on

Check out his Instagram account for further truly genius shots.

Bootleg

Back in the olden days, when Napster was still a thing, record industry execs spent a whole lot of time and money trying to prosecute people for digitally downloading music. They contended that people were stealing music because they didn’t want to pay for it. But, in retrospect, it’s clear that people were stealing music because that was the only way to get it online. As digital album sales data demonstrate, once they were able to buy music digitally, people flocked to that option in droves.1

During the pre-iTunes Store period, I remember talking with Sean Parker, who compared the online theft of music at the time to bathtub gin. During Prohibition, people couldn’t buy liquor, so they started making it at home. Once Prohibition ended, they could have continued to home-brew inexpensively. Instead, nearly everyone was more than willing to pay for the quality, convenience, and consistency of store-bought brand liquor.

I thought of that again recently, when I came across a table calculating overall internet usage data for last year. Back in 2011, BitTorrent – the primary method for illegally downloading movies – accounted for 23 percent of daily internet traffic in North America, and the movie industry was tearing its hair out with distress about piracy. By last year, BitTorrent traffic was under 5 percent, while (legal, paid) Netflix and Amazon Video have now grown to account for more than 40% of daily traffic.2

In other words: the bathtub gin effect strikes again.

  1. While digital sales never rose to match album levels, that’s primarily a result of unbundling albums into individual songs – people often only want one or two songs from a given album – and moving heavily to a streaming model – which tends to increase consumption without increasing revenue as incremental consumption is free. While both are great for consumers, and less great for record company profits, they’re business model choices made by the industry itself.) ↩︎
  2. I expect things will push even further in that direction once studios give up the practice of ‘windowing’ – delaying the digital release of films until after their full theatrical run. I’ve long contended that a lot of people would be willing to pay fairly high prices (as two movie tickets now closes in on $40, even before marked-up popcorn) to watch new movies at home on the same day that they’re theatrically released. ↩︎

Instructions

When I was in high school, I truly loved H. Jackson Brown’s Life’s Little Instruction Book, a collection of short bits of wisdom Brown originally typed up and gifted to his son on his first day of college.

A surprising number of the instructions have stuck with me over the years, word for word. Things like:

“If in a fight, hit first and hit hard.”

“Choose your life’s mate carefully. From this one decision will come ninety percent of all your happiness or misery.”

“When complimented, a sincere ‘thank you’ is the only response required.”

So, earlier this week, when I came across it again by chance, I gave it a quick re-read. And I still think it’s absolutely great.

Though I had, in the years since I last picked it up, forgotten what was always perhaps my favorite part: a short poem Brown wrote at the beginning of the collection, which I think so beautifully summarizes what it means to be a father and a son:

Son, how can I help you see?
May I give you my shoulders
to stand on?
Now you see farther than me.
Now you see for both of us.
Won’t you tell me what you see?

All the News that Fits We Print

Briefly stated, the Gell-Mann Amnesia effect is as follows. You open the newspaper to an article on some subject you know well. In Murray’s case, physics [Murray Gell-Mann is an American physicist who received the 1969 Nobel Prize in physics]. In mine, show business. You read the article and see the journalist has absolutely no understanding of either the facts or the issues. Often, the article is so wrong it actually presents the story backward—reversing cause and effect. I call these the “wet streets cause rain” stories. Paper’s full of them.

In any case, you read with exasperation or amusement the multiple errors in a story, and then turn the page to national or international affairs, and read as if the rest of the newspaper was somehow more accurate about Palestine than the baloney you just read. You turn the page, and forget what you know.

– Michael Crichton

Le Déluge

Back when I was in college, and running my first company, I regularly took the Metro North from New Haven to New York City several times a week. Each time I did, I’d stroll through the Posman Books location inside Grand Central, perusing the new fiction and non-fiction laid out on the tables by the front. I kept a list of books I wanted to read. And, dismayingly, despite being a life-long voracious reader, that to-read list always seemed to expand exponentially faster than the list of books I’d actually managed to finish. I remember being a bit depressed about it at the time, knowing I’d simply never be able to read everything I wanted to.

These days, I only rarely make it to a bookstore. Yet, every day, I watch enticing information and ideas stream across my path in an ever-growing number of mediums. On top of books and audiobooks, articles ‘saved to read later’ pile up in Pocket, episodes of podcasts accumulate in Overcast, blog entries stack in Feedly, and Tweets from smart and insightful people rush through my feed all day long.

In a way, that increased information overload has actually been comforting. With just a book-reading backlog to contend with, I could sometimes convince myself that I might, with herculean effort, find a way to ‘catch up.’ But now, with what I’d like to consume so vastly outpacing any conceivable human bandwidth, I’ve been forced to become a bit more zen. I learn what I can, and let the rest go.

Even so, I can’t help but sometimes wish I could freeze time, to finally make my way through all that delightful, fascinating content. As Tolkien observed, “I wish life was not so short. Languages take such a time, and so do all the things one wants to know about.”

Spill the Beans

I admit it: I’m a coffee snob. As I write this, I’m drinking a cup I just made using a Chemex pour-over, from freshly-ground, overpriced Ethiopian beans, like a total douchebag.

But my love of coffee isn’t without reservation. In particular, coffee culture, and the whole third-wave coffee movement, always rubs me the wrong way. As Anthony Bourdain put it, “I don’t want to wait for my coffee. I don’t want some man-bun, Mumford and Son motherfucker to get it for me. I like good coffee but I don’t want to wait for it, and I don’t want it with the cast of Friends. It’s a beverage; it’s not a lifestyle.”

So I couldn’t help but love this McDonalds ad, which takes a playful swipe at the hipster cafe:

Touché.

Deep Listening

About fifteen years ago, when I was first starting Cyan Pictures, I lived bi-coastally between New York and LA. I didn’t own – or need – a car here in New York, but I had a long-term rental SUV out on the West Coast, in which I spent hours each day, winding between meetings and production locations, through smog and heavy traffic.

Back in those pre-MP3 days, I had a small booklet of CDs in the car – the fraction of my larger collection that I was willing to tote out West – and I listened to those same CDs again and again and again.

One of those was Elliot Smith’s excellent XO, which Apple Music recommended to me this morning. Listening to it now, I was instantly transported back to that earlier place and time. I knew the words – really knew the words – knew each rise and fall, each chord strum and vocal nuance.

These days, I listen to a far broader lineup of musicians, albums, and even genres than I managed back in that distant past. I discover new music I’d doubtless otherwise miss, can pull up songs I love the moment they cross my mind. And, on balance, I’m hugely grateful for what streaming music has added to my life.

But I also can’t help but miss those old days, when technical limitations forced me to marinate in a small number of songs, held me to listening to albums rather than jumping between single tracks, and let me get to know, really get to know, songs in a way that etched them deep in my mind, in my heart.

In the Tank

In the wake of Chance the Rapper’s much-deserved Grammy wins, it’s great to see another quirky, independent, and truly excellent group get some recognition. Today, NPR’s All Songs Considered announced the winner of their 2017 Tiny Desk Contest: New Orleans’ Tank and the Bangas.

The group brings together great musicians with backgrounds in rock, folk, jazz, gospel, and hip hop, to create a self-declared new genre, “Soulful Disney.”

In turns, their music is funny, beautiful, ironic, fierce, melancholy. Consider this video, which got them the Tiny Desk nod:

Then juxtapose that with this performance, at the Essence Music Festival:

How is that the same group?

Or consider this studio session with the same song from the Tiny Desk recording, in which Tarriona “Tank” Ball throws off rap verses with aplomb, in a much more straight-ahead way (and with a shout-out to Chance’s signature “IGH” ad-lib):

And, finally, circle back to their performance of “Oh Heart,” off Think Tank (their first album, on Apple Music and Spotify, and most certainly worth a listen):

There’s a lot going on here – arguably too much – but it’s riding on a whole hell of a lot of talent, and as much group chemistry as I’ve seen on stage anywhere in years.

I’m keeping an eye on these guys, and I suggest you do, too. They’re headed for big things.

Taking a Chance

Last summer, I blogged about Chance the Rapper, at the release of his excellent new mixtape, Coloring Book.

Chance isn’t signed to a label, and released the mixtape – like his prior two – for free online. As a result, none of his albums were, at the time, eligible for Grammy consideration.

But, prompted by a Change.org petition that garnered more than 40,000 signatures, the National Academy of Recording Arts and Sciences updated their rules at the end of last year, to keep up with the current realities of the digital music world. Now, unsigned artists and streaming music are both eligible. And, as a result, Chance became the first unsigned artist, and the first streaming-only artist, to win a Grammy, with three much-deserved nods for Best New Artist, Best Rap Album (for Coloring Book), and Best Rap Performance (for “No Problem”).

Though it’s plagued with Grammy-standard sound engineering issues (Chance is mic’ed low enough that he’s barely audible for large stretches), his performance last-night – a mashup of “How Great” and “All We Got,” with snippets of “No Problem” and “Blessings,” and featuring Kirk Franklin, Francis and the Lights, Tamela Mann, and a full gospel choir – makes clear that he deserved the wins:

Congrats, Chance; I’m looking forward to hearing what you do next.