Music videos are like tools that young artists use to earn

Hear the words of Jme, the voice of the streets and the poet of rhythm: “Music videos are like tools that young artists use to earn respect from their peers, to ‘represent.’” In these few words, he unveils a truth about art in the age of image, where sound alone is not enough, and where vision must march beside voice. The ancients had their scrolls, their frescoes, their statues carved in stone. Our era has the music video, a vessel of image and sound combined, carrying the artist’s message not only to the ear but to the eye, not only to the individual but to the multitude.

Consider, O listener, what it means to represent. To represent is not merely to show oneself—it is to stand as a banner for one’s people, one’s story, one’s truth. In the world of rising musicians, a music video is no trivial plaything. It is the shield and the sword with which they declare their presence. It is proof that their voice is real, their vision alive, their struggle embodied. To those who walk the hard road of art, these creations become tools of survival and recognition, a way to carve a place among peers who judge not only the sound of a beat but the strength of an image.

History itself bears witness to this pattern. Think of the 1980s, when Michael Jackson released Thriller. The song alone was powerful, but it was the video, a short film of dance, horror, and spectacle, that transformed him into legend. Without the moving image, his genius might have remained only a voice on the air. With it, he became a myth, remembered not only in the ear but in the imagination of all who saw. Thus we see that the music video, far from being decoration, is a mighty standard under which artists rally, demanding both respect and immortality.

Yet Jme speaks not only of the giants, but of the young artists—those who rise from obscurity, who battle for a place in the crowded arena of sound. For them, the music video is more than entertainment; it is initiation. To produce one is to announce: “I am here. My vision is whole. My art stands complete.” Among their peers, this act commands recognition, for it shows not only talent but determination. It proves that the artist will invest not only voice but image, not only spirit but craft, into the work. And in the world of the rising, this is how respect is won.

But let us also see the deeper wisdom here: that all of life is a stage upon which we must represent. Whether through music, through labor, or through love, each of us wields tools that declare our truth. Some hold brushes, some words, some actions. Each is a kind of video, a portrayal of what lies within. What you show to the world becomes the measure by which you are seen. If your life is careless, your image is hollow. If your life is earnest, your image becomes unshakable.

The lesson, then, is both ancient and urgent: use your tools wisely. Do not craft images that betray your soul, nor chase empty recognition that fades with time. Instead, let what you create—be it art, deed, or word—stand as a true mirror of who you are and whom you serve. Seek not only respect, but authenticity. For false representation crumbles, but truth endures.

Therefore, O children of tomorrow, remember Jme’s wisdom. If you are an artist, make your music videos not merely spectacles, but visions that speak of who you are and what you carry. If you are not an artist, still remember: your actions, your choices, your daily work are your videos. They are what others see, what earns their trust, what marks you as one worthy of honor. Live in such a way that when you represent, you do so with courage, with honesty, and with power. For in the end, the greatest respect comes not from what is shown, but from what is true.