Over the course of the last 12 months, I have read a variety of books and watched several documentaries about the career arcs of successful singers/bands from the 1970s-80s. REM, Billy Joel, Chicago, Carly Simon, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Linda Ronstandt, and others. While every one of these has their own story and unique twists, the career arcs are remarkably similar and look something like this.
Basically, the singer or band plays around with their sound for a few years in their teens and/or early 20s, people float in and out of the initial lineup, and some lone wolf talent scout/producer “discovers” them and signs them to a horribly one-sided contract that the singer/band never reads because they just want “to focus on the music.”
The singer/band slowly starts building a local/regional following before — BOOM! — they take off like a rocket. Top 10 hits. Gold records. Sold out arenas. The creative juices are flowing, and the group can do no wrong. The bandmates are all best friends and living it up.
Then comes the inevitable plateau. Things are still good. There are a few more hits and many records are still being sold, but cracks begin forming. Drug/alcohol use and late-night partying becomes more important that the music, in-fighting starts to occur, and everyone finally realizes that, “Hey, why aren’t we being paid very much money despite our success? Where is that initial contract anyway?” Fingers begin being pointed every which way.
This is when the decline begins. The group has been touring nonstop for years just to make some money after lawyers free them from their initial onerous contracts. Creativity and passion plummet. It’s no longer “all about the music.” The next record bombs, the record label threatens to drop them, and the band fractures. Maybe the lead singer decides to go out on his/her own, maybe the drummer who has been consistently late for rehearsals is replaced, maybe someone goes into drug/alcohol rehab (OK, pretty much always someone goes into drug/alcohol rehab).
Once things settle down, the singer/band may have another blip of success, but more likely settle into their role as a “nostalgia” band. They will often still record new material, but it’s rarely inspired or successful. The best of them will still play to packed arenas as they embrace sobriety and give their now-middle aged, moneyed audience a reminder of their younger, carefree days (Good God, Willie Nelson is still touring at 93!).
After watching the most recent of these documentaries, I got to thinking how CMEpalooza aligns to this sort of career arc. There are a few similarities. Certainly, Derek started CMEpalooza and I joined shortly thereafter with hopes for success but just a vague blueprint of what that might look like. As we gained traction, both with sponsors and our audience of CME professionals, we grew in popularity. You might say our “big hit,” ironically enough, happened during COVID, when the whole world was virtual and CMEpalooza was one of the few established events that continued unencumbered. The audience for our events basically doubled overnight.
In those days, we had a lot of creative ideas for sessions, and our blog stayed busy as we regularly emailed each other with “Hey, I’ve got another idea for a blog post this week. Wait, so do you? Great!” We were rolling along.
Assuming we follow the trajectory of the musical superstars—presumably skipping over the stint in alcohol/drug rehab—this is about the time we should hit our plateau and, quite frankly, that is a scary proposition. No one wants to be on the decline in anything that they do, and dammit, we’re going to fight like hell to stay on top.
We still have spurts of creativity (admit it, you love the CMEslinger), although it can be harder to tap into at times (note from Derek: a lot harder). Our “Hey, I’ve got another idea for a blog post this week!” exchanges don’t come quite as frequently as they used to. Personally, what gets me excited most often these days is exchanging ideas with our community and getting them to challenge me to come up with creative solutions. We have a few sessions this Spring that are pushing the envelope and usual boundaries of education, which is always fun and professionally enriching.
Will we still be doing CMEpalooza on our 93rd birthdays? Probably! (OK, definitely not). But I also hope that we’re not going to be that nostalgia band who people watch simply for the memories of those good old days any time soon. I think we still have a few years of life in us.
CMEPALOOZA 
This really resonated with me. It took me back to my years in the music industry, where I had a front row seat to these exact career arcs.
What strikes me most is how transferable that model is. I’ve always viewed physicians as the talent, their unique clinical expertise as the “hit records,” and continuing education as the platform to bring that work to life. The formats, the strategy, the reach, those are the equivalents of distribution, touring, and promotion. When it’s done well, it not only draws strong audiences but also builds something more meaningful: physician-to-physician trust, referrals, and ultimately patient impact.
That alignment is what made the work so compelling for me then, and why it continues to hold true now.
And if we’re following the full arc… I suppose the only question left is when the drugs and alcohol phase is scheduled. That was my favorite part of the music industry until it wasn’t.
Very interesting analogy that I had not considered, Art!