What if you find yourself in your ideal job only to feel tormented that it is not allowing you to fully express yourself?

One of the hangovers from the 20th century is the idea that with some self-reflection, insight and labour-market knowledge, it is possible to find the ideal job – one that is a perfect match for one’s interests and talents. We are encouraged to believe that carefully selected work can provide rich rewards beyond money to satisfy our souls. It is a big but superficial claim.

I bet that many of us, at one time or another, have harboured the dream of becoming a professional musician, maybe a rock star playing to baying audiences in theatres or even stadiums. Or a classical musician thrilling connoisseurs with lightning-fast runs. Or if you weren’t bothered about ever being paid, a jazz musician weaving your magic in dark basements.

When we think about our possible professional identity, I’ll wager most of us do not contemplate becoming a journeyman. The Oxford English Shorter Dictionary defines a journeyman variously as a person “who having served an apprenticeship is qualified to work in an art, craft or trade for daily wages or as the assistant or employee of another; a person who is not a master of his or her trade”.

This very issue is addressed in Journeyman Suite, an outstanding new and original Australian release by (jazz) saxophonist Andrew Robertson with his 18-piece big band and string quartet. This highly regarded Sydney musician has turned career development into art. The album, which is “semi-autobiographical”, explores the life of a working musician. It opens with Blow – describing the initial excitement and inspiration of experiencing the sound of a big band that draws a young person towards a music career. The next track, Balladier, describes the musician acquiring their skills and becoming accepted by their peers.

Loading

The next track is Torment, where the musician questions whether there is more they can do beyond supporting the “ticket-selling artist” performing others’ work, and how one can balance making a living with creating meaningful music that “feeds the artistic soul”.

The power of this new work goes beyond the confines of professional musicians. It speaks to the conflict faced by many of us who are highly proficient, and maybe even well rewarded for what we do, but who are unable to shake off this nagging sense of emptiness, the fear that what we have may be all there is to have – and it is not enough.

This fear arises from the basic human need to make our mark, to find our place in the world, and to express what is inside us. While this may sound like the self-indulgence of a midlife crisis, researchers have identified a quarter-life crisis that has similar themes of searching for meaning and searching for more. It is said to hit around the late 20s, when it is supposed that we are five to 10 years (or more) into our preferred career path, but not feeling it.