"If music became extinct now, I don't know what I'd be good for"
About this Quote
There is panic tucked into the shrug of that line: not the melodramatic kind, but the practical dread of a working musician realizing his skill set is also his identity. Tommy Shaw frames the nightmare in a clean, modern way: not "music saves me" or "music is my life", but "what would I be good for". That phrasing puts a price tag on purpose. It turns artistry into employability, and it admits how completely the job has swallowed the person.
The hypothetical is also telling. Music "became extinct" is intentionally absurd, like imagining oxygen getting discontinued. That exaggeration does two things at once: it flatters music as essential infrastructure while smuggling in a more realistic fear musicians live with - not extinction, but irrelevance. Tastes shift, radio formats die, platforms change the payout, and suddenly the thing you do best can feel like a hobby the world no longer needs. Shaw came up in an era when rock could be a stable career, when a band like Styx could be both arena-sized and culturally central. In that light, the line reads like a veteran's side-eye at how fragile that center turned out to be.
Subtextually, it's a confession dressed as a joke: I have built my worth on a single axis. It's also a small act of defiance. If music disappears, so do the metrics that judge him; the only remaining question is whether "good for" means useful to others, or whole to himself. The sting is that both answers might be the same.
The hypothetical is also telling. Music "became extinct" is intentionally absurd, like imagining oxygen getting discontinued. That exaggeration does two things at once: it flatters music as essential infrastructure while smuggling in a more realistic fear musicians live with - not extinction, but irrelevance. Tastes shift, radio formats die, platforms change the payout, and suddenly the thing you do best can feel like a hobby the world no longer needs. Shaw came up in an era when rock could be a stable career, when a band like Styx could be both arena-sized and culturally central. In that light, the line reads like a veteran's side-eye at how fragile that center turned out to be.
Subtextually, it's a confession dressed as a joke: I have built my worth on a single axis. It's also a small act of defiance. If music disappears, so do the metrics that judge him; the only remaining question is whether "good for" means useful to others, or whole to himself. The sting is that both answers might be the same.
Quote Details
| Topic | Music |
|---|---|
| Source | Help us find the source |
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