Reading Notes
9-11 Minute Read | Laptop or Tablet Recommended
Topics and Themes
Sunk-Cost Bias in rock and roll; The Rise and fall of Sprightly Moans; How to determine if you have a sunk-cost bias
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Though I hate to admit it, so many of my old dreams of becoming a rock and roll star were probably derailed out of a lack of awareness of a sunk-cost bias. Sunk-cost bias is the tendency to keep on committing to a path based on prior investments, rather than future benefits. Sprightly Moans was one of these casulties.
Sprightly Moans was a band I put together in 2012. It was a guitar and drum duo. Both of us played significantly loud. To new listeners, I often described our music as if The White Stripes, Lightning Bolt, and Jimi Hendrix got into a gigantic knife fight and it didn't end well.
Our music set astonishingly nihilistic lyrics against a bluesy, bit-crunched, distorted guitar. The drummer would play in a blistering blur around the rhythms I threw down. I sang loudly and with a great deal of force. It was a lot of fun!
Sprightly Moans got to the point where we wanted to make a serious go of it. I thought we had great potential to actually make it in the hyper-competitive rock scene in Austin as well as the United States. I began to get our image straight. First, I got my Fender Telecaster re-done with an all white, nitro finish. It looked awesome and it sounded great:
I decided to give an old drumset a monumental makeover. I stripped it of it's cover, sanded it, repainted it, recoated it, put clear drum heads on it, and all of a sudden I had this sharp-looking drumset. It helped that it sounded tremendous!
We got professional promo photos done with a great photographer, Juan Gonzalez of Lime Fly Photography:
We shot a video I'm still proud of:
And then, after all of this progress, the drummer and I parted ways. It knocked the wind right out of me. After the shock wore off, my next thought was how I was going to recoup all the money, time, effort, love, and the many hours of dreaming I put into the project. Obviously, I needed a drummer! I was already so far ahead... how hard could it be to find a drummer?
I printed posters, I posted ads, I asked friends. I auditioned five different drummers. No one really fit… One of them made fun of me, right to my face. Ouch.
Something started to feel a bit off...
Operating from a place where I wanted to recover all the resources that I put into this band ruined the fun of it. And that’s a shitty place to be at. I was trying to capture that feeling again, and it was disappearing quickly. I didn't feel right slogging it out on a project that seemed to no longer have the magic it once had. I acted out of desperation. I doggedly kept pushing forward. I still expected a return.
Eventually, after two years of nursing the dream of getting the band up and running again, I gave up the ghost on Sprightly Moans. In a deep way, I felt relieved. Sprightly Moans was no more, and I accepted that I would not be a rock and roll star after all. Sure, that hurt a little. Growing hurts sometimes. But it was healthy.
After I let it go and I properly grieved, I finally felt ready to tackle the next thing. It wasn't long after that I met Madison Bounds and started collaborating with him on his film Crisp Lips, my first film score. I had such a fun time doing it! The magic returned! I was creating music in that flow-state of musical fun.
Creative Sunk-Cost Bias
My unwillingness to let go of Sprightly Moans and my dogged persistence to reclaim the investment is a perfect example of the sunk cost bias. I was more motivated to make good on all the effort I put into that band (the mini albums, the promo photos, the music video, the time I spent making albums our of paper, and the nursing of my dreams) than I was playing the music and trusting the magic of it. I was more interested in getting a return on the money I spent on the video than I was just having fun and going with the results.
In other words, I was stuck in the past rather than finding a way to be creative.
Sunk cost bias becomes a huge hassle if we're not careful. Without knowing it, we can get pulled into a commitment and stay there even if we're totally unhappy about it. Often, I don't think we're even aware of this bias! And if we are blind to sunk-cost bias, we are similarly blind to newer opportunities, less aware of present realities, and unflexible to take advantage of a good cultural moment.
I know now that if I had given up on Sprightly Moans within a half a year (not the two years it actually took) that I would have had a massive head start on composing music for film.
Determining Sunk-Cost Bias
What can we do to guard ourselves from sunk cost bias? If you suspect it in one of your creative prospects or business doings, or if you're just plain curious, ask these questions of yourself:
How worthy is this person/path/option of my commitment? Time? Energy? Money? Other resources altogether?
Is there a better-sized commitment for this that's more appropriate and respectful of my resources? Time? Energy?
Have I become blind to how shitty it really feels being committed to this?
Do I feel a sense of being locked into this commitment?
Is there an exit strategy with this commitment?
If I weren't already invested in this commitment, how much would I invest right now?
If I didn't already have this commitment in my life right now, how much would I work my ass off to get it? How much would I pay for it?
What opportunities are getting lost as a result of me commiting to this?
What else can I do with my time if I pulled the plug on this commitment?
What else can I do with my money if I pulled the plug on this commitment?
What else could I do with my energy if I pulled the plug on this commitment?
Would I be more effective in reaching my ultimate goals if I pulled the plug?
Are past investments in this option getting heavily weighted over future rewards?
Are there any patterns with this commitment that are similar where past costs were prioritized over potential future gains?
Call up a friend who will tell you the truth, no matter what. Explain the situation. Ask this person: "Am I prioritizing the previous investments more than I am prioritizing what I could get from it?"
Are there any strong emotional reactions when I consider uncommiting to this? Name them if so. The more there are, the more likely sunk cost bias is in play.
Is it time to implement a "kill criteria"? Meaning, a criteria for discontinuing projects that are not meeting expectations, regardless of past investments.
We don’t need to suffer to create art. Seriously.
I think suffering from sunk-cost bias totally roots us in the past in an unhealthy way. It doesn't feel good being tied to a creative commitment that doesn't quite do it for us anymore. In my case, it felt awful trying so hard to revive Sprightly Moans. I hoped to make that my main breadwinner. I was a little too obsessed with making my money back, with making it in the rock scene altogether. The fun disappeared.
Once I finally let it go, I felt tremendously good about what we did. Looking back made me smile, and blush a little bit too. I began to enjoy those things I invested in as loving artifacts of that period of my life. The drum set, the Telecaster, the photos, the albums, and the video.
As I mentioned before, hindsight is 20/20. Better to look back soberly at these older projects and reinterpret them as these awesome things we did. Better to marvel at the things we accomplished while we were truly in the moment, and then find a new thing that suits us even better, now.
This post was inspired and influenced by Essentialism by Greg McKeown. I totally recommend it.