I'd rather be entertained and go to a show and watch a drummer

The words of Mike Portnoy strike with both clarity and passion: “I’d rather be entertained and go to a show and watch a drummer and have somebody that makes me actually smile. So I don’t judge drummers based on their technical ability; I judge them based on the overall package and what they bring to the music they’re part of.” In these words lies a truth far deeper than rhythm or song—it is the truth of life itself. For in every art, in every craft, there are those who obsess over precision, and there are those who bring joy, spirit, and connection. Portnoy reminds us that the higher path is not perfection, but presence.

The ancients knew this lesson well. A poet whose verse is flawless but without fire soon fades from memory. A sculptor whose statues are exact yet lifeless cannot stir the hearts of generations. But the bard whose voice is cracked yet filled with soul, the dancer whose steps are imperfect yet ablaze with spirit—these live forever in the memory of humankind. So too with the drummer: the one who gives not just beats, but energy, character, and life, becomes immortal in the hearts of the people.

Consider the story of Louis Armstrong. Though not a drummer, his trumpet playing and gravelly voice were far from technically pristine by classical standards. Critics at times dismissed his imperfections, yet the people adored him, for he brought laughter, warmth, and humanity into every note. His music was not a cold calculation but a living force that made audiences smile, weep, and rejoice. He embodied Portnoy’s wisdom: that it is not skill alone, but the whole package—the spirit, the joy, the soul—that defines greatness.

This teaching is also reflected in the arena of life beyond art. Leaders are not remembered solely for their tactical ability, but for the fire they ignited in others. Consider Winston Churchill, whose speeches were not without flaws, yet whose words carried such presence that they gave hope to a nation in its darkest hour. His gift was not merely technical mastery of language, but the full package of conviction, passion, and soul. His voice, like the beat of a drum, kept the people moving forward.

The message is clear: skill without spirit is an empty shell. Technical ability has its place, for discipline is the foundation upon which art rests. But without heart, without the power to entertain, to inspire, to move the soul, all perfection is meaningless. Portnoy’s teaching calls us to remember that the true measure of a person’s craft lies not in flawless execution, but in the joy and life they awaken in those who behold their work.

So, O seeker, apply this wisdom to your own life. In your work, in your art, in your relationships, do not strive only for technical mastery. Seek instead to bring your whole self, your package of spirit, passion, and authenticity. Let your actions make others smile, let your presence carry warmth, let your work bear not only precision but heart. For in this way, you will not be forgotten, but remembered as one who brought true music to the world.

And thus, the practical counsel: when you strive for excellence, do not worship perfection alone. Ask instead, “Does this touch the heart? Does it bring life to others?” Whether you are a drummer, a teacher, a leader, or a parent, let your craft be filled with humanity. For as Portnoy teaches, it is not the cold perfection of the part, but the living music of the whole, that makes the world stop, listen, and smile.