#1 ·
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the weird trajectory of fame. It feels like we’ve entered this strange era where the "legacy" phase of a career doesn't necessarily mean playing stadiums or releasing a comeback album. Instead, it’s becoming this highly curated, almost academic pivot.
Don't get me wrong, I love the greats. I grew up listening to the icons of the 70s and 80s, and there’s a certain magic in seeing those names pop up in a newsfeed. But lately, there’s this growing trend of seeing these massive, larger-than-life personalities transition into the world of "thought leadership." You see them on stages that used to be reserved for philosophers or tech disruptors, talking about their "journey" or their "process" rather than, you know, actually doing the thing they became famous for.
It creates this bizarre cognitive dissonance. You have these individuals who built their entire identities on being wild, unpredictable, or purely creative forces, and then suddenly they’re standing under a spotlight in a sweater, discussing "innovation" or "resilience" in front of a corporate audience. It feels like a strange attempt to sanitize a legacy. It’s as if the world is saying, "We loved your chaos, but now we’d much rather hear you explain the mechanics of how you managed that chaos."
I remember back in the day, if a band or a performer wanted to reach people, they did it through the art. The art was the message. There was no "explaining the meaning behind the movement" in a seminar setting. The movement was just... happening. Now, it feels like everything has to be deconstructed. Every creative spark has to be turned into a digestible, three-step framework that can be streamed to a headset while someone drinks a latte. It’s a bit cynical, isn't it? It feels like the monetization of the "afterlife" of a career.
There’s also the question of authenticity. When a person who was once the embodiment of pure, unadulterated energy moves into the realm of intellectual discourse, does it feel earned? Or does it feel like a way to stay relevant in a world that has moved on from the actual substance of their work? I find myself wondering if these pivots are genuine attempts to share wisdom, or if they are just the most efficient way to squeeze the last bit of juice out of a brand that has already peaked.
I’m not saying it’s a bad thing. Knowledge sharing is great. But there’s a certain dignity in letting the work speak for itself. There’s something a little hollow about seeing the rebels of yesterday becoming the keynote speakers of today. It feels like we’re watching the "cool" being processed through a corporate filter until it’s smooth, safe, and ultimately, quite predictable.
Does anyone else feel this shift? Do you think there's a genuine value in seeing these massive cultural icons transition into more "intellectual" or "motivational" roles, or does it just feel like a weird, calculated way to repackage the past for a modern, LinkedIn-friendly audience?
Don't get me wrong, I love the greats. I grew up listening to the icons of the 70s and 80s, and there’s a certain magic in seeing those names pop up in a newsfeed. But lately, there’s this growing trend of seeing these massive, larger-than-life personalities transition into the world of "thought leadership." You see them on stages that used to be reserved for philosophers or tech disruptors, talking about their "journey" or their "process" rather than, you know, actually doing the thing they became famous for.
It creates this bizarre cognitive dissonance. You have these individuals who built their entire identities on being wild, unpredictable, or purely creative forces, and then suddenly they’re standing under a spotlight in a sweater, discussing "innovation" or "resilience" in front of a corporate audience. It feels like a strange attempt to sanitize a legacy. It’s as if the world is saying, "We loved your chaos, but now we’d much rather hear you explain the mechanics of how you managed that chaos."
I remember back in the day, if a band or a performer wanted to reach people, they did it through the art. The art was the message. There was no "explaining the meaning behind the movement" in a seminar setting. The movement was just... happening. Now, it feels like everything has to be deconstructed. Every creative spark has to be turned into a digestible, three-step framework that can be streamed to a headset while someone drinks a latte. It’s a bit cynical, isn't it? It feels like the monetization of the "afterlife" of a career.
There’s also the question of authenticity. When a person who was once the embodiment of pure, unadulterated energy moves into the realm of intellectual discourse, does it feel earned? Or does it feel like a way to stay relevant in a world that has moved on from the actual substance of their work? I find myself wondering if these pivots are genuine attempts to share wisdom, or if they are just the most efficient way to squeeze the last bit of juice out of a brand that has already peaked.
I’m not saying it’s a bad thing. Knowledge sharing is great. But there’s a certain dignity in letting the work speak for itself. There’s something a little hollow about seeing the rebels of yesterday becoming the keynote speakers of today. It feels like we’re watching the "cool" being processed through a corporate filter until it’s smooth, safe, and ultimately, quite predictable.
Does anyone else feel this shift? Do you think there's a genuine value in seeing these massive cultural icons transition into more "intellectual" or "motivational" roles, or does it just feel like a weird, calculated way to repackage the past for a modern, LinkedIn-friendly audience?