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The success of a team is correlated with how much a leader encourages its members to tell the truth; even when it hurts. Especially when it hurts.

It’s the truth, the facts, and the whole story, that lead to progress.

I recently heard someone refer to themselves as having a deep keel.

No matter the size of the storm or swell, they’re rarely swayed, shaken, or stressed. Their keel is holding their boat in place; keeping it upright, and ensuring it doesn’t capsize.

I loved this metaphor. There’s lots to learn here.

I had a laugh this morning when some readers pointed out that this video I posted a few days ago of Rick Rubin and Paul McCartney listening to Smash Mouth’s All Star was, in fact, a parody. The pair were actually listening to The Beatles’ Come Together, and someone had edited All Star over the top of it.

Firstly, as someone who has edited a fair few videos, I must give the parody artist credit. I was convinced.

Secondly, it made me reflect on confirmation bias. I genuinely like All Star, but I’m aware it gets dunked on a fair bit. So when I saw something that looked like two musical titans admiring it, I ran with it. I didn’t do the due diligence because it validated a narrative in my head. This mistake was harmless, but confirmation bias can be dangerous in other situations.

Finally, I better read descriptions a little closer next time!

I came across this poem written by Joseph Malins in 1895. It’s message of how prevention is better than the cure is still relevant and resonant today.

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Twas a dangerous cliff, as they freely confessed,
though to walk near its crest was so pleasant;
but over its terrible edge there had slipped
a duke and full many a peasant.
So the people said something would have to be done,
but their projects did not at all tally;
some said, ‘Put a fence ’round the edge of the cliff, ‘
some, ‘An ambulance down in the valley.’

But the cry for the ambulance carried the day,
for it spread through the neighbouring city;
a fence may be useful or not, it is true,
but each heart became full of pity
for those who slipped over the dangerous cliff;
And the dwellers in highway and alley
gave pounds and gave pence, not to put up a fence,
but an ambulance down in the valley.

‘For the cliff is all right, if you’re careful, ‘ they said,
‘and if folks even slip and are dropping,
it isn’t the slipping that hurts them so much
as the shock down below when they’re stopping.’
So day after day, as these mishaps occurred,
quick forth would those rescuers sally
to pick up the victims who fell off the cliff,
with their ambulance down in the valley.

Then an old sage remarked: ‘It’s a marvel to me
that people give far more attention
to repairing results than to stopping the cause,
when they’d much better aim at prevention.
Let us stop at its source all this mischief, ‘ cried he,
‘come, neighbour’s and friends, let us rally;
if the cliff we will fence, we might almost dispense
with the ambulance down in the valley.’

Today I’m sharing 3 musical observations that I’ve noticed over the past week.

First up is a chart on the percentage of number one singles with a key change by year.

I’m so used to being surprised at a key change if I hear it in today’s music, that I find it hard to imagine that about 1 in 3 of the top songs on the billboard charts having them back in the 60s and early 70s.

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Second is this great video of producer, Rick Rubin, showing Sir Paul McCartney the individually recorded tracks—or “stems”—from All Star by Smash Mouth.

All Star gets a lot of hate as that cheesy, quirky song from Shrek. But I’ve always had a soft spot for it.

I feel vindicated seeing how much Rubin loves the song, and seeing Paul’s overwhelmingly positive reaction. It really is a great song!

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Finally, I wrote earlier this year about how I’ve been reading historical fiction novels about the life of Genghis Khan. Well, I recently found a band that combines traditional Mongolian music (including guttural throat singing) with heavy metal. They’re called The Hu, and their music is unlikely anything I’ve heard before. They’re playing a concert here in London in December and I’m considering going to see what their live show is like.

It’s a turbulent time in the tech ecosystem.

The cryptocurrency market was hit with the stunning collapse of its second-largest exchange, FTX. And along with it, the downfall of its CEO, Sam Bankman-Fried. Elon Musk is making sweeping changes at Twitter whilst also tweeting a steady stream of memes throughout the day. And layoffs are happening in broad swathes across the industry.

The news outlets and pundits are weighing in. All of them—every single one—has imperfect information, but they’re all taking shots and pulling no punches.

I’ve avoided making comments for a few reasons. One is I don’t have perfect information, and I know it. Second is a lot of details are still to come out in the wash, and for some of the companies and players, the game still has many minutes left on the clock.

I try keep all this in mind when I’m tempted to get lost in the latest, frothy news cycle.

The best user experiences don’t just appear.

There has been wrestling, re-writing, debating, churning, oscillating, testing, and a dash of daring that has preceded that app, or product, falling into our hands.

When we’re bringing something new to the world—a product, a piece of art, a song, a new venture—it’s tempting to apologise for the nit pick.

But don’t pull your punches.

The game is won over a thousand small things.

Note: I started following Ben’s blog earlier this year. He writes down random memories that come back to him that he wants to remember. He uses the geeky ‘Randomly Accessed Memories’ and I liked it—so I’m stealing it and using it too!

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It’s Saturday morning. Football day. I’m 9-years-old.

Dad would get me up, make sure I ate something, ensure I had the right socks, remind me about my shin pads, and get me to the pitch 30 minutes early.

After the game my sweaty, wet, muddy self would jump in the car, but not before dad threw me a towel to get warm and dry.

On the way home, I’d look over at him. Maybe. Maybe today. Every once in a while—but certainly not every week—he’d say, “Want a milkshake?”

Beaming, I’d bounce up and down in my seat. We’d head through the McDonald’s drive thru and order a chocolate shake—it was always chocolate.

I was reminded of this memory on the way home from touch rugby this evening; it’s when I usually call my dad and we chat about what happened in sport over the weekend. Today I got transported me back to those Saturday morning milkshakes.

Before smartphones, but after early mobile phones, there was a period of insane and ludicrous design.

Form was seemingly placed above function at every decision point.

People often say Nokia was killed by Apple and the iPhone. And although I believe that, I’m also convinced Nokia put their foot in it by designing monstrosities.

Imagine a big block of marble.

You’re the sculptor.

With a chisel and a mallet you start your work.

After months of toil, you don’t have much to show for your efforts. You’re disheartened. You question if the vision is attainable or simply a naive dream.

You look at the big block of marble again. This time with conviction. You realise then that the statue is already there.

You pick up your tools, you do the work, you chip away, you follow your plan, and eventually, you reveal what’s in your minds eye.

I re-read Steven Pressfield’s ‘War of Art’ at least once a year. If you feel called to a creative or entrepreneurial endeavour, this book is critical reading.

Each time I pick it up, I run into my notes and highlights from previous readings.

There is magic in the margins.

I’m reminded that my goals are still largely consistent in the years that I’ve been reading this book (my first read was in 2015!). I’m also reminded that my struggles haven’t changed either. I’m buoyed by what progress I’ve made, but also dissatisfied with where I’ve evidently dragged my feet.

The book is a plea to get out of the stands and into the game, and the magic in the margins is a comforting whisper in the ear before running out onto the field.

“Do what you can with what you have. Nothing more is needed, and there are no excuses.”—Rick Rubin

I enjoyed stumbling upon this reminder to be resourceful. There is a huge benefit to setting constraints, making do with what you have, and seeing how far you can go before adding fuel to the fire.

My trusty Brompton—a folding bicycle, and the best two-wheeled transportation machine invented—had a few bolts that were stiff and stubborn.

I lived with it for a bit because it only slowed down my folding and unfolding by a few seconds.

But after a month or so, I got fed up.

On my way home I pulled into a corner shop and picked up a can of WD40 for about £3. Two sprays and my Brompton and its bolts were back to what it was like the day I bought it.

I chuckled. Why did I wait so long to solve the problem when the solution was trivial and easy to implement?

The weight isn’t important.

Muscles don’t do maths.

What matters is the muscle being put under stress, because that’s how we get stronger.

Lessons in the gym are often applicable well outside those four walls.

Did you know every Lego piece has to be able to fit with every other Lego piece ever made?

That’s a frightening quality standard. What this means in practice is variability across all pieces of less than half a thousandths of an inch.

When you make a commitment, and deliver on it without fail for decades, customers will come to trust, respect, and love both your brand and what it stands for.

Lego sets an amazing example.