It’s a beautiful day outside, but you wouldn’t know because you’re inside being protected by a central air unit. You just bought the latest 66,000 gHz computer capable of recording up to 128 simultaneous tracks of audio. Your plan (after going to the annual family picnic, that is) is to write and record that great monumental album, the one that will universally communicate and enlighten the oppressed masses. This is where I come in to tell you that it will never happen. Note the lack of the word "sorry." It’s just a fact. The reason? Every artist, no matter the medium, must have a dark side in order to be justified as an artist. Nice, friendly square folk never make good music — the kind that lasts, that evokes a universal primal urge to question everything.
Darkness (which includes an overwhelming sensation of emptiness, and disparity) is the driving force behind all art. Being a victim of divorced parents; a secret obsession with pornography; excessive masturbation; addiction to sex; a panache for ingesting harmful substances (especially the illicit kind); preoccupation with the "system" or better yet, a mental illness identified by an authority. Something must be broken in order to know what works. Without pain, there is no happiness.
Whether it is Van Gogh slicing off his ear for a prostitute, Roky Erickson watching seven televisions to ward off demons, Jim Morrison alienating himself from his family by telling everyone his parents are dead, or Keith Richards or Miles Davis "chasing the dragon," pain and longing become the common denominator (or is it denominator?) that translates into true art. It is the only thing that keeps them alive, and in some cases, their struggle eventually kills them. (Rutger Hauer’s contribution of dialogue to Blade Runner rings very true: "the light that burns twice as bright lives half as long.")