This site is the website of motivational speaker Craig Harper. A constantly updated, one-stop information, inspiration, education and motivation station. Unlike many similar sites, it is a totally free resource for anyone who is serious about moving from mediocre to amazing in any area of their personal or professional life. With hundreds of articles covering a wide range of subject matter, great interviews with cool people and inspirational video posts, there's more than enough brain-food to keep you busy for hours. Okay, days!! Enjoy.
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Craig Harper is Australia's leading
motivational speaker
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sought-after corporate coach and is considered to be
a leader and pioneer in the areas of personal and
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Working with hundreds of
teams, companies and a wide variety of organisations
on numerous continents over the last twenty years
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variables. Craig has an ability to educate, inspire,
challenge and make people laugh all at the same
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G'dayGroovers. Hope this finds you well and I trust you had a ripper weekend. The following article is not really a typical motivational or educational post as such. It's a story about an experience I had late last week. There are lessons to be learned if you look for them. I hope you get something out of it. Enjoy your day.
As you may or may not know, the Bald Man and I will be heading off around the countryside over the next few months to share some craigharper.com love with the masses (okay, masses may be optimistic) via a series of RYL (Renovate Your Life) and RYB (Renovate Your Body) workshops. As I shared a week or so ago, we have partnered with Lloyd Events from Perth to work with us on this pretty exciting project. We will be announcing cities and dates on the site this week.
A Roadshow!
Being as Johnnie and I couldn't organise beer in a pub (that's the clean version), we breathed a collective sigh of relief when the very talented and organised Vive from Lloyd Events put up her hand and (stupidly) volunteered to work with Dumb and Dumber to make the Craig Harper Roadshow a reality. She's been bossing Johnnie and I around for a couple of weeks now and I gotta say, I kinda like it.
Photographically Challenged
One of Miss Bossy Boots' latest instructions was for yours truly to spend yesterday morning with a stylist (perhaps a magician would have been better) and photographer to produce some publicity photos for flyers, web stuff, media stuff and general marketing purposes. Needless to say, Mr Photographer (Brett) and Miss Stylist (Cress) had their work cut out for them trying to make my head look good. Okay, acceptable. When it comes to my head, my expectations are pretty low. I'm aiming for average. I suggested the Doris Day lens (ask your parents), some C.G.I. and a little air-brushing, but sadly they were both too ethical to accommodate me. What's the moral dilemma with taking a couple of inches off my nose and removing a wrinkle or ten, you bloody Goody-Two-Shoes(es)?
Behind the Insignificant Door
So I arrived at the designated address at the designated time as specified by Miss Bossy Boots. An insignificant door set back from the street was what greeted me. No signage and no indication of what lay beyond the insignificant door. I hoped I was at the right place. I walked up some stairs to discover a long passage which gave me no more clues as to my whereabouts. At the end of the passage I could see what looked like some kinda big loft or studio with the door half open. Have you ever noticed how arty types (musicians, photographers, artists, dancers) always have studios that require a frickin' degree in Aboriginal Tracking to find? They are always located down an alley, up some stairs, along a corridor, up some more stairs, around a few corners and tucked away behind some obscure weird-ass importing business. Just don't ask about what it is they import.
From behind the half open door an athletic looking figure appears.
"Craig?" "Yep." "I'm Brett, come on in."
Creative Irony
I walk in to the studio and it's big, funky and full of light. There is a sense of synergy in the room. It all seems to go together and it all feels very comfortable. Everything wreaks of cool. Everything except me of course. The images on the wall, the TV in the corner playing some kinda skate-boarding-music video, the photographic equipment sprawled all over the place, the big-ass white Mac computer, a bunch of instruments (including at least eight guitars), the eclectic mix of furniture and my favourite accessory; a big, friendly, beautiful Golden Retriever called 'Dog'; a fourteen year-old affection machine. Sure his hips have seen (much) better days but he still manages to make his way over to me with his favourite ball in his mouth. "Surely, you don't want me to throw that", I enquire. "Nope, just a little tug-o-war will do" he replies in dog speak. We spend a few minutes bonding and he gives me his approval via a slobbery (a word) kiss. Nice.
The irony of one of the most creatively gifted people I've ever met calling his dog 'Dog' didn't actually dawn on me until much later.
A Vote of Confidence
In keeping with the obligatory alpha-male ritual, Brett and I shake hands. Unlike many blokes, I sense no competitiveness (towards me) and no ego. No hand-crushing shake (yes girls, blokes do that), just a generous and kind spirit. I love that. We exchange some of the typical formalities and discuss why I'm there. He assures me that he can make even me look good. I appreciate his vote of confidence. I don't really enjoy being photographed.
Being a (very amateur) guitarist of thirty something years, I am intrigued by his extensive (and expensive) collection of guitars. He's either a good musician or a bad one with more money than sense. I notice that he is a left-hander as the strings are all ass-about. Not many people play guitar left handed.
"Are you a serious musician", I enquire. "I was once." "And now?" "I've been out of circulation for a while but I have actually just put together an album and I'm shopping it around at the moment." "Wow!"
The Dojo
All of a sudden I become aware of a constant banging coming from somewhere above my head. And when I say constant, I mean evenly timed intervals; bang, 1, 2, bang, 1, 2, bang, 1, 2, bang, 1, 2.... and so on. I learn that there is a martial arts dojo directly above the studio.
"How do you record music with all that racket", I enquire. "I can't start recording until eleven each night when they close." "That's gotta make for a long day?" "Yep."
Zoolander
At that point Cress (short for Cressida) our stylist walks in and the formal proceedings get under way with some dressing and undressing, some buffing and preening, some poking, prodding and adjusting and even a little make-up. A lot of make-up would have been better. While Cress is busy telling me how to stand, where to look, when to smile and when to change clothes, I'm doing my very best to come up with my own version of BlueSteel (see Zoolander or ask a kid). All the while our happy snapper clicks away with his unnecessarily large camera. Not that I'm insecure or into comparing... but his camera is much larger than mine. I think I have camera envy.
Okay, maybe a little insecure.
Group Analysis
An hour or so later my modelling career is over (I hope) and Brett has taken hundreds of photos of my head. Poor Brett. If you're ever having trouble keeping your ego in check, get a professional photographer to take hundreds of photos of you and then put those high resolution images of your face up on a gigantic screen for a little group analysis. My nose looked like some kind of enormous monolith and every one of my numerous wrinkles looked like a series of fleshy chasms.
Happy to have my foray into the world of modelling behind me, I start to pack away all my crap (clothes etc.) so I can hit the road. I'm just about to give Dog a little departing love when Cress asks me a question...
"Have you heard any of Brett's music Craig?" "No... but I'd love to."
Brett's Music
To be totally honest, my expectations weren't high, not because I didn't think Brett had talent, but because every second musician I've ever met has 'an album in the pipeline' and most of them are... average. I'll be polite. Well, I was soon to discover that 1) nothing was in the pipeline; it was a completely finished product and 2) he ain't no average musician. He's a creative genius and I would learn that my photographer is an incredibly talented singer, song writer, producer and musician.
Get this... for the album he just recorded he sang lead vocals and backing vocals for every song, he wrote every song, he played every instrument for every song and he produced the entire album by himself. He also directed, shot and produced his own video clip of his first single Ordinary Life.
A Tear from the Beefcake
Brett walks over to a computer, fiddles with some dials, clicks on a few things and I hear music. Amazing music. For a moment I think what I'm hearing couldn't be him. Stupid thought I know. How could one guy by himself make all that music? It's awesome. He walks off and chats with Cress. I sit myself on a stool in front of some big-ass speakers and lose myself in his music for fifteen minutes. I have a busy day, appointments to get to and a mountain of work but all of a sudden, I don't care. I find the beautiful music therapeutic and healing. It rips the hurry right out of my head. The urgency has been replaced with calm. I listen to a song he wrote about a friend who died tragically and it literally brings a tear to my eye. I discreetly wipe my eye not wanting to blow my alpha-male cover. The song is called 'My Junkie Friend'.
Complete Sense
I stay a while and chat to Brett. I am fascinated by his talent, his humility and his attitude. If I had so much ability I would probably be a complete show-off. It's an only-child thing. I discover that despite numerous obstacles and setbacks in his life he has always found a way, rather than an excuse. I also learn that he has an extensive background in the Australian music scene but walked away from it years ago (for a range of reasons). Ever since he has been on a journey of self-discovery, exploration and re-invention. While the vast majority of experts would tell a forty-something musician who's been out of musical circulation for over a decade that a self-written, self-produced, one-man-band-extravaganza recorded in a photographic studio underneath a dojo in the middle of the night is the dumbest plan ever, I think it might just make sense. Complete sense.
A Name?
Brett completed his album only a week ago and is currently shopping it around to the record companies. I believe it will be a hit, not because I'm a Motivator Bloke, but because it's seriously good music. This record is so new that the overall album doesn't even have a title yet. So Brett, if you're reading this, I know you're up for suggestions and right now I'm leaning towards Under the Dojo.Gotta admit, it's kinda funky. A teeny, weeny credit on the back cover will be fine thanks! Congratulations on a great record Brett and thanks for encouraging the rest of us to take a chance, to use what we've got and to find a way rather than find an excuse.
When you take a listen keep in mind that he played every instrument, did both lead and backing vocals and recorded the whole album in the middle of the night with his best friend Dog at his feet! Take a listen to Brett Goldsmith's song Ordinary Lifehere (total playing time 3:26 min). See you tomorrow.
Feel free to give Brett some encouragement by clicking on the comment thingy or just say hi and share your thoughts.You may even have a suggestion for the title of his album!
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