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Commentary
Life lessons from Josh Groban, 365 days a year
“What genre is Josh Groban?” my partner asked as I streamed the singer’s 2021 virtual Valentine’s Day concert. Josh's cover of The Magnetic Fields’ “The Book of Love” perked the ears of my music-savvy partner, who didn’t expect to hear this singer — famous for belting “You Raise Me Up” — reinterpret such a cheeky indie pop song. As a longtime fan, I’ve seen Josh’s records categorized under classical, easy listening and pop/rock, but none of these genres alone capture what Josh actually does.
What Josh definitely does is occupy radio waves every holiday season with classics from his Christmas album “Noel” — reminding the general public of his existence at least once a year. But I think about Josh year-round, because for over 20 years he’s inspired me as an artist who does whatever he wants, whenever he wants, with whomever he wants.
Besides selling out arenas with his operatic-leaning vocals, Josh has co-written songs with Dave Matthews and Imogen Heap and collaborated with artists from Herbie Hancock to H.E.R. He’s acted across TV and film, and even performed at the Olympics and Super Bowl, and for Oprah and the Pope. Still, Josh remains an enigma — an extremely sellable one — who doesn’t exist in a neatly defined or ubiquitous space in pop culture. In fact, when I first mentioned my favorite musician to my partner, he said, “Josh who?”
I’ve been following Josh’s career since I was 12. Josh’s fandom of “Grobanites” now captures people of all ages and backgrounds, but that wasn’t always the case. In 2004, during his first tour at the Wang Theatre in Boston, I remember scanning the audience only to find myself in a sea of middle-aged moms and elderly ladies. I was thrilled to be among fans but couldn’t shake the feeling that perhaps I had prematurely arrived at my golden years. Clearly Josh’s music wasn’t made for someone like me, yet somehow it felt like it was made just for me.
In the early to mid-2000's, Josh and I were both emerging — he as an artist, and I as an awkward, insecure teen who dreaded finding a seat at lunch in her school cafeteria. Some days I’d sit with my honors classmates. On others, I’d eat at the introverts’ table because I didn’t know where else I belonged. In the cliquey world of high school, selecting a seat felt like choosing a fixed identity, influenced by what others expected versus what I wanted for myself.
I didn’t know it then, but what I was trying to do was cultivate an expansive, richly layered inner self that would carry me through the rigid and prescribed reality of adulthood.
But after school, I crammed my hours with ballet, drama, choir, piano and scribbling my inner monologues in diaries. Bouncing between art forms helped me find the freedom to be the most whimsical and curious version of myself, beyond the type A, straight-A student that others labeled me as. Craving that escape, I felt the pull to become an artist, but didn’t know which kind I wanted to be. Also — I wasn’t confident I could become one at all. Growing up in my immigrant family, I felt pressured to pick a stable, financially secure career, and pursuing art was not that. I reveled in all these art forms in part because I didn’t know if I could keep making art as an adult. While I explored, Josh’s music served as my soundscape.
By blending dramatic orchestral arrangements with pop, rock, electronic and world music, Josh simultaneously bewildered and delighted me, introducing me to sounds and styles I never would have discovered on my own. While interviewing Josh for his “Lightning Bugs” podcast, Ben Folds remarked, “I think that’s one of your great artistic achievements. It’s being so against the grain and so yourself that… you can’t imitate it, and no one else is or should try it.” But in a way, I think I’ve always tried to emulate Josh, since I was a kid, by playing across the arts. I didn’t know it then, but what I was trying to do was cultivate an expansive, richly layered inner self that would carry me through the rigid and prescribed reality of adulthood. Josh’s insistence on being versatile, playful and unrestricted by the conventional boundaries of genre gave me an example of how to grow into myself — both then, as a teen, and now, as an adult.
Growing up involves making decisions that seem to define who we are, like choosing where to sit in the school cafeteria. But those choices don’t necessarily confine who we can still become. After high school, I chose to go to college, hold various nonprofit jobs, get an MBA and move between Boston and New York for a corporate role. I swung between career paths, but all of my explorations lacked something essential to me. “What would Josh do?” I pondered. He’d do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted, of course! Channeling his boldness, I decided to seriously pursue writing as a second career, outside of my day job, because the desire to make art has never left me, just like my love for Josh and his music has never faded over time.
In his conversation with Ben Folds, Josh recalled what his producer David Foster told him while they recorded his debut album: “The good news is nobody’s looking for it… nobody cares. Radio’s not going to play you... if you do hit people with this, it’s going to be because they really got goosebumps and really wanted to pay attention.” Foster’s insight makes me think about how the process of pursuing art is like the process of growing up. It’s about creating the spaces where you can define yourself, without waiting for someone’s else’s permission. As an adult, no one is waiting for me to do anything. No one is waiting for my voice, except for me.
Now, as I listen to Josh’s newly re-released 20th anniversary edition of his second album “Closer,” I’m remembering why I continue to cherish his music. Beyond his lush baritone and impeccable vocal technique, it’s his experimentation across so many musical styles to create his own artistic niche. As my partner eventually concluded, “Josh Groban is his own genre.”
This spring, I watched Josh star in “Sweeney Todd” on Broadway — reportedly the gig of his dreams — and beamed with pride and admiration. I don’t have kids, but I basked in my inner mom energy as I sat among actual middle-aged moms and other Millennial fans like me. “He’s made it,” I thought. But deep down, I knew I wasn’t proud of just Josh. I felt my younger self sitting with me in that theater, landing where she’s always wanted to be.
