25 | rough diamonds

Earlier this summer, I watched OUT OF TIME, a 2021 documentary about the 1990’s band Material Issue. Material Issue had been on my radar during their brief time in the spotlight thanks to a local alternative rock station (i.e., 105.7 The Point) and a sister who included their music on her mixtapes. Until the documentary popped up on whatever streaming service I was scrolling, however, I hadn’t thought about them in years. As outlined in a 1996 obituary for their lead singer, Jim Ellison, their story is all too familiar:

Material Issue’s career—and thus Jim’s career, for he was the heart, soul and brains of the band—followed a well-worn pattern. The band put out an indie EP and single, got picked up by a major label, made some noise with their debut. Those were the good days, with MTV playing “Diane” and “Valerie,” and “Very First Lie” appearing in a Drew Barrymore movie. But Material Issue’s second album sold less than its first and its third less than its second, and The Ish was dropped by its label.

After watching, I went back and listened to their three studio albums. Their music called to mind bands who came after them who became massive in a way that eluded Material Issue. Was it the best music I had ever heard? No. But it was certainly good enough for them to have been bigger than they were.

In my bill-paying job at Courtex Performance, I think a lot about that concept of good enough. In the world of sport, people get caught up in questions around who is the best. Who is the best 11-year old? Who is the best draft prospect? Who is the GOAT1? But those may not be the best questions. Within youth sport, a better question is likely, “How bad can you be at 11 and still develop into a good enough player?” Within professional sport, a better question may be, “Who is capable of developing into someone who could play at this level (or the next one)?”

Thinking in this way shifts your perspective. You no longer look for only those who already have it. Instead, you start thinking about the ways you could support and encourage the individual or group so that they (and others) can realize how much they could achieve. It makes you look for those athletes on the margins. In my work at Courtex, I have seen this time and time again. Maybe it is a D3 basketball player who turns a practice squad invitation into a lucrative career in Asia. Maybe it is a 20th-something round pick in the MLB who is still playing professionally into his 30s despite injuries and setbacks. Maybe it is a 17-year old European pro who plays himself into the NBA lottery and changes his career arc. Maybe it is a high school athlete who overcomes pregame nerves to continue to play his sport at the club level collegiately. Regardless of the specifics, the general theme is consistent: helping people develop so that they can do the thing they love at the level they desire.

When it comes to development, I see parallels between sport and music. Maybe your record company has different ideas about what songs are singles and what gets promoted. Maybe your best work as an artist ends up buried on an album that gets little promotion and zero traction. Maybe you never even get a chance to make a record. I see the same thing in sport, with organizations supporting some athletes in ways that promote development while ignoring others who aren’t seen as worthy of the investment. To me, that is the lesson of Bronny James. It isn’t, “He is only getting special treatment because he is LeBron’s son so anything he accomplishes should be dismissed.” Instead, his case highlights how many athletes with similar talent could develop into competent professionals if provided with his level of support. For those at the top of the talent and/or luck heap, maybe the support doesn’t matter. But for those on the margins, it can make a huge difference.

Valerie Peters, Josiane Bissonnette, Danielle Nadeau, Audrey Gauthier-Légaré, and Marie-Audrey Noël. 2024. The impact of musicking on emotion regulation: A systematic review and meta-analysis. Psychology of Music, 52(5), 548-568.

summary: This meta-analysis focused on the effects of musicking (i.e., active music making, active music listening, and active music creation) on emotion regulation (ER) (i.e., processes by which influence which emotions they have, when they have them, and how they experience/express these emotions). The main window for ER is prior to age 5, and failure to develop ER has been linked to mental health problems. Positive ER skills, meanwhile, have been associated with higher social competence, prosocial behavior, and socioemotional adjustment. Literature reviews have explored the relationship between ER and music, but none had previously examined the connection between musicking on emotion regulation. Researchers found 8 studies that met the inclusion criteria, and reported several conclusions:

• Musicking had a moderate effect size (d = .45, p < 0.01) on ER

• Age did not influence the effects of music interventions

• Duration of music interventions impacted effects, with longer interventions resulting in larger effects on ER

• Effects did not differ among general, clinical, and at-risk populations

• More recent studies reported smaller effect sizes

potential translations to sport: When I ask professionals in my field about athletes and music, one of the most common dismissals to the question is to quickly reply that, “All of ours already listen to music.” Prior to reading this meta-analysis, my response has been to point out that already listening to music doesn’t mean is being used as effectively as possible. I bet your players also already eat but that wouldn’t stop you from suggesting that a dietitian could be helpful! This research adds another layer, however, because it shifts the focus from music as a noun to music as a verb. Athletes may be listening to music in an attempt to regulate emotion, but research such as this suggests that playing or creating it may provide additional benefits. Rather than seeing music-making as a hobby that detracts from sport performance, it could be seen as additive and restorative. So, yes, maybe your athletes are already listening to music. But are there some that could also find comfort through creating it?

I was 12 when Shaquille O’Neal was drafted by the Orlando Magic, so his early basketball career overlapped with the period where my musical sensibilities were finding a direction. O’Neal was the first athlete I remember who pursued music with some level of seriousness, dropping the first of several studio albums - SHAQ DIESEL - about a year and a half after he was the number one pick in the NBA draft. Shaq’s spotlight was huge, and he used it to highlight his own personal favorite rap group, Fu Schnickens. As others have noted, Fu Schnickens’ references to martial arts and Asian culture predated the group who would take those elements mainstream, the Wu-Tang Clan. The Wu-Tang may have polished the approach, but I personally have Shaq to thank for making me aware of a group whose work perhaps deserved more attention than it was getting!

I turn to my personal Lord and savior Tom Petty the Christ for today’s spotlight. According to either a story Petty told in a documentary or a fabrication of my mind, it was a comment by Johnny Cash that inspired the opening lyrics to his song WALLS. Petty ran with the contrast to pen one of my favorite tracks, and included two versions on the SHE’S THE ONE soundtrack. The full album, filled mostly with leftovers from the WILDFLOWERS sessions, is worth a listen, so check it out if you need some musical accompaniment for your workday or drive!

Some days are diamonds
Some days are rocks

tom petty WALLS

I subscribe to Mark Edward Randall’s Musings of a Broken Record. One of his features, Bubbling Under, fits perfectly with this issue’s them. In the feature, Randall covers “a song or artist that just missed charting on the Hot 100.” As much as I love finding tracks from artists I like that were not released as singles, I have to admit that I find the sort of tracks highlighted by Randall more interesting. Presumably, these were tracks that music executives thought would climb the charts. But, for whatever reason, they didn’t quite land as expected when they first dropped. In some cases, like with Tom Petty’s AMERICAN GIRL, they eventually become tracks that define an artist’s career and take on a life beyond their initial chart position. In other cases, a lack of initial success may permanently end the hopes of future mainstream success. Features like Randall’s remind me that there is so much good music out there, and, ultimately, the only top 100 that matters is my own!

If you also find the topic fascinating, check out Randall’s Substack.

I thought more about rocks and diamonds for this playlist (and radio show), and cast a wide net for my search: Mark Edward Randall’s encouragement to look just outside of the top 100, songs from before artists hit the mainstream, songs that initially didn’t land but later became staples, b-sides, songs from people I follow but who aren’t major artists, artists who only found success later in life, artists whose work was only fully recognized posthumously or when someone else covered it, etc. This one runs a bit longer than usual, which I figure is fine because the analytics tell me that nobody listens to these anyway!