Bands from Akron have a sense of humor and don't tend to take

The words of Dan Auerbach — “Bands from Akron have a sense of humor and don’t tend to take themselves too seriously.” — echo with the humble wisdom of one who understands the balance between artistry and authenticity. Beneath this simple statement lies a deep truth about creation, humility, and the spirit of place. Akron, a small industrial city known more for its tire factories than for its fame, has produced artists who reflect the grit and humor of the working world. In Auerbach’s words, we find the ancient lesson that greatness is not born from vanity, but from sincerity — that those who laugh at themselves remain closest to truth, and that laughter itself is a mark of strength, not weakness.

The origin of this spirit is found in Akron’s character — a place of laborers, dreamers, and survivors. It is a city that knows both pride and humility, both struggle and self-awareness. Out of such soil grow artists who carry the humility of the earth itself. When Auerbach speaks of humor, he does not mean mere comedy, but perspective — the sacred art of seeing one’s own absurdity and embracing it. To not take oneself too seriously is to stay free of the chains of ego. It is to create not for glory, but for the joy of creation. The great philosopher Socrates once said, “The unexamined life is not worth living,” and yet Auerbach’s words remind us that the overly examined life — the one too steeped in self-importance — can become equally lifeless.

The bands from Akron he honors — from Devo to The Black Keys themselves — are living proof of this spirit. Consider Devo, whose music danced on the edge of satire and science fiction, using humor to critique modern society. They wore plastic hats and jumpsuits not because they lacked seriousness of thought, but because they understood that humor could be a sharper weapon than anger. Their laughter was rebellion, their irony a form of truth-telling. To laugh at the absurdities of human progress was, for them, to reclaim the power of awareness. So too, Auerbach and his own band carried that legacy — finding beauty in imperfection, soul in simplicity, and power in self-restraint.

In the ancient world, this balance between seriousness and levity was seen as the mark of wisdom. Aristotle wrote that virtue lies in moderation — between excess and deficiency. The artist who is too solemn becomes a preacher, and the one who is too frivolous becomes a fool. The wise creator, like the wise man, walks the middle path — grounded, joyful, and unafraid to laugh at himself. Humor, in this light, becomes not a distraction from meaning, but a vessel for it. It teaches humility, for laughter is the sound of the soul realizing its own smallness — and yet, in that smallness, finding freedom.

Dan Auerbach’s praise of his hometown’s musicians is, then, a hymn to this kind of freedom. The Akron spirit, with its humor and its humility, resists the vanity that so often consumes artists who chase fame. In a world that rewards ego and pretense, those who remain able to laugh — especially at themselves — are the truest artists of all. Their music is real because they are real. Their songs, like their laughter, rise from honesty, not ambition. They do not perform for approval, but to share something true. Such authenticity is rare and sacred — the mark of creators who remember that art is not about self-glorification, but about connection.

History gives us countless examples of those who understood this truth. The ancient playwright Aristophanes, though surrounded by philosophers and politicians, chose to write comedies. Through laughter, he exposed hypocrisy, soothed suffering, and spoke truth to power. His humor was not weakness — it was wisdom in disguise. Similarly, the Akron artists Auerbach honors have done the same in their own age, showing that one can challenge convention without bitterness, that one can find meaning through mirth. They remind us that laughter, when sincere, is an act of creation in itself — a spark that keeps the human spirit alive even in dark times.

The lesson of Auerbach’s words is simple yet profound: to be great, one must stay humble; to stay humble, one must never lose their sense of humor. In life as in art, seriousness must always be tempered by lightness. Take your work seriously, but never yourself too seriously. When pride begins to rise, remember the wisdom of laughter. When despair threatens, remember the healing of humor. A smile shared in honesty is often more powerful than a speech spoken in solemnity.

So, dear listener, learn from Dan Auerbach and from the bands of Akron. Be grounded in your craft, joyful in your purpose, and unafraid to laugh at yourself. Let your humor be rich, your humility deep, and your spirit free. For those who can find laughter amid labor, and lightness within struggle, carry the secret known since ancient days — that the truest art, and the truest life, are born not of pride, but of play.