This is The OffBeat, where music meets leadership. Iâm Allison Staddâjazz drummer, marketing leader, and very tired/highly caffeinated mom of twoâand each week I deliver a fresh take on work, creativity, and connection, like how to hire like Duke Ellington. Itâs like HBR, but with better taste in music.
Every other edition of The OffBeat is a think piece structured like a jam session in jazz (naming the tuneâa punchy idea; soloingâexploring different takes on a central theme; outroâa thought-provoking closer).
I had a stretchy black T-shirt in middle school with a rhinestone-encrusted, silver-scripted "Perfect" emblazoned on the chest.
It was the heyday of cheeky shirts: "Bacon makes everything better,â "Geology rocks," âI like big brunch and I cannot lie."
But I wore mine in all seriousness. Because I was perfect. I needed to be. It was a standard I imposed on myself with relentless devotion.
In middle school each year I found superhuman brawn to beat the required mile time, flexibility inches, and number of pull-ups and sit-ups to qualify for the Presidential Physical Fitness Award.
For half of high school I took lunchless eight-period-days, scarfing tinfoiled sandwiches and baggies of carrot sticks in the hallway between classes, to take an extra AP course and two music periods.
My parents bought a basketball hoop for the end of our driveway, and I stayed out there all goddamn night shooting until the bumpy orange Spalding ball swooshed through the net.
In both music and leadership, we (especially women, and especially women balancing intense careers with caretaking responsibilities) often chase an impossible standardâperfection, precision, or simply the feeling that weâre "doing enough." But just like a song doesnât need endless layers of sound to resonate, neither does your life.
In fact, overproducing a trackâadding too many effects or layers; basically trying too hard musicallyâdrowns out its essence. And it just sounds junky.
A great musician doesnât play every note at once; they choose what to emphasize, what to leave out, and when to rest (rest⊠what a concept!).
Leadershipâand lifeâworks the same way. Like weâve talked about before, silence between the notes matters as much as the sound.
The OffBeat #36: Finding the Silences
In his book Grace: President Obama and Ten Days in the Battle for America, Obama speechwriter Cody Keenan describes a powerful anecdote from his time writing the 2015 State of the Union speech. Obama tells Keenan his draft is great, but thereâs no variation in volume:
đŹ ACTION: If you feel like youâre falling short at work, at home, or both, ask yourself: Am I overproducing this music?
» Am I trying to play too many instruments at the same time?
» Am I cranking up the volume in every area?
» Am I adding layers just to fill the silence?
» Am I sound-mixing without taking breaks to actually listen?
» Have I let other producers (bosses, colleagues, society) take over the track?
Remember âenoughâ is sort of bullshit; when you impose that standard on yourself, youâre making it up. Enough for who? On what terms? In what circumstances?
The best leaders, like the best musicians, understand dynamic range. They know when to push, when to pull back, and when to let others take the solo. Maybe right now, your career is playing the background bassline while your family takes the main melody; or vice versa.
That doesnât mean youâre failing, or youâre not doing âenough.â It means youâre being intentional and self-aware.
Instead of measuring yourself against some undefined âenough,â consider this: You donât have to play every note at once to make an impact. You just have to play the right ones, right now.
In music, "enough" is about balance, not excess. Itâs the point where a piece feels complete; where every note serves the song without overcrowding it.
"Enough" in music means knowing what serves the song and what doesnât. The same applies to work and life: not doing everything, but doing what matters most.
On my high school dance team, when rehearsing endless reps of a routine in preparation for a big competition, sometimes our coach would declare that weâd âmark itâ for the next rep as opposed to going âfull out.â
âMarking itâ meant going through the movements with minimal energy, without full extensions or sharpness. We used marking to focus on spacing, timing, or memorization without exhausting ourselves. It was a way to conserve energy while still mentally engaging with the choreography.
âFull out,â on the other hand, meant performing the routine with complete physical commitment, the way weâd do it in a live performance.
We needed both: the marking-it reps to routinize the moves and spacing; the full-out reps to improve our leaps, jumps, and stamina.
Same thing in music, and in life.
Sometimes good enough isnât just good enough; itâs exactly right.
Have a great week,
Allison
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Unsurprisingly, I think we wouldâve gotten along well in middle school đ And I love the question of overproducing â Iâve been feeling the pull to simplify in so many significant areas of my life, which feels counterintuitive at first *because* they are so significant to me . . . but itâs been really profound. As one example, Iâve pulled back on my inputs (except books, of course), started taking walks without listening to a podcast, and bought myself a small notebook for my creative writing efforts where my assignment is to write just one page (approx. 250 words) a day. And in the paring back, Iâve been feeling more creative energy and ideas (personally and professionally) than I have in a long time. In not trying to push so hard, itâs like Iâve actually created space for so much more â and something new â to pour in.