“In need of some restraint” – Founder Worship and Sympathy for the Devil(s)
Who do you prefer: Mick Jagger or Keith Richards?
Trick question. The answer is obviously Charlie Watts. Why is Charlie awesome?
The Rolling Stones is a job for him, not a passion project. While Mick ‘n’ Keef fell in love with Chicago Blues. Charlie is a jazz fan. He does this job really well.
The Stones have been described as “the greatest rhythm section in the world” and the foundation for that is Charlie’s granite-solid drumming. Not flash like a Moon or a Bonham, just there. Like the fundamental particles that make up reality. Charlies Watts is the Fermion of drumming.
He is resolutely un-rock-n-roll. Faithful to his wife. And apart from a period in the 80s, not messed up on drink and drugs.
He’s also a snappy dresser.
The following story sums up Charlie Watts for me. So many versions of it have been told that the actual events may not have happened but that does not make it any less true.
It was 5am and Mick Jagger wants to jam. He is also out of his mind on drink and drugs. So he calls Charlie and slurs down the phone: “Where’s my f***ing drummer?” Charlie puts the phone down. He has a shave. Puts on a suit. Gets in his car and drives the 20 mins to Mick’s place. Then he knocks on Mick’s front door. Mick opens the door and Charlie punches him in the face. “I am not your f***ing drummer”, says Charlie, “you are my f***ing singer.” And then Charlie gets in his car and he leaves.
Charlie’s jazz drumming is one of the foundational elements of the rhythm symphony that is Sympathy for the Devil. It is sometimes confused with Latin rock due to its samba beats but it is really an anti-Gospel track. The giveaways are the piano and the Doo-wop “woo, woo”s in the background. However the news that Mick wants to share isn’t necessarily good. SPOILERS: Mick is singing from the perspective of Satan – who he makes sound both revolting and fun. He glories in death and destruction. But like all good movie villains, he both feels awesomely alive and vital in a way that the heroes don’t, and he also has an English accent. You simultaneously want to hang out with Jagger’s Satan and avoid him like the plague. And if you read about the adventures of Mick ‘n’ Keef during the 60s and the 70s, you feel the same way about the actual men themselves. Charlie actually seems a better bet – but he would be too busy making a pencil sketch of his hotel room for any such fripperies.
One of the most tedious things about the technology world is the tendency to call nerds “rockstars” – as in “We’re looking for a Rockstar Javascript developer”. Given that rockstars tend to be notoriously unreliable narcissists, those hiring managers deserve everything they get.
But it does reflect a truth of the tech world (and the organisations more broadly). If bad behaviour is coupled with either stellar performance or superb connections, it is rarely punished until too late. Bad Blood by John Carreyrou and SuperPumped by Mike Isaacs are both excellent works of old-skool journalism. Exhaustively researched and compelling written, they tell the stories of Theranos and Uber respectively. They also outline why deciding to call nerds “rockstars” – and treating them as such - is a terrible idea.
Silicon Valley has grown over the last 30 years from some place in California where weirdos made computers into the centre of modern world. A new Imperial Rome or London. Its kings – Jobs, Cook, Zuckerberg, Page (and their Northern brothers Gates and Bezos) – simultaneously worshipped and feared. People make precious sacrifices of money and time to them and their icons. Such a place is intoxicating. Who would not want to be a God?
Elizabeth Holmes wanted to be Steve Jobs. She wore the same black turtle necks. She lowered her voice. She copied the cult-like vibe of Apple. She charmed and impressed the powerful into supporting and funding her (she seemed to specialise in convincing older men that she was the daughter they had always wanted). There was only one problem: her products didn’t work. You can bodge software to an extent but you cannot bodge medical hardware. This minor inconvenience did not stop her and her mutually-enabling / co-dependent business partner Ramesh Balwani. The most frustrating thing about Carreyrou’s book is its sheer repetition. A bright, scrupulous employee would find issues with a Theranos product. When they brought this to the attention of Ramelizabeth, they would be gaslit and then hounded out of the company with the threat of financially-ruinuous legal action. At least one committed suicide. Many lives were ruined in Elizabeth’s pursuit of her dream.
Travis Kalanick had similar dreams but a subtly different trajectory. The Founder of Uber wanted to be a baller CEO. Yachts, apps, models (both business and fashion), nightclubs, cap tables and lap dances. And unlike Theranos, Uber’s business model actually worked. It has become incredibly popular. It has what economists call “negative externalities” – burntout employees, alienated drivers, assaulted passengers, sexual harassment everywhere across its value chain. Perhaps the only saving grace of Uber is that its competition (taxi cartels) are equally bad. Kalanick himself was forced out of his CEO role due to an escalating series of bad decisions. That he held on so long is testament to the power of dual share structures (it is almost impossible for the Board to fire many tech CEOs due to these) and the enablers around him.
While it is easy (and sometimes legally necessary) to blame Holmes and Kalanick for their actions, the broader environment that they operate in should not escape censure. The recent culture of Founder Worship actively encourages individuals to pursue dangerous opportunities. This is not necessarily a problem provided accountability structures such as Boards can exert a countervailing force. Unfortunately, Founder Worship seeks to actively weaken these checks and balances on the Founder’s insani-, er, vision. It was inevitable that situations like Theranos and Uber would arise.
A triumphant Roman General had a slave to whisper “you are mortal” in his ear during his victory parade. Mick Jagger had Charlie Watts to punch him in the face. Everyone needs a Charlie.