In an industry built on opinions, playlists, and gatekeepers, it's easy to measure your worth by numbers, such as streams, followers, or how many times someone says "maybe next time." But one of the healthiest and most important habits a songwriter or artist can develop is learning to be their own source of validation.
by CountryDemoStudio Staff | October, 22, 2025.
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When you base your confidence solely on external approval, the highs and lows of the music business can be brutal. One publisher's pass, one artist's "not quite right," or one social post that doesn't get traction can make you question your talent.
However, creative success has always required internal strength. You need to develop the ability to keep creating even when the world is silent.
No one in the music industry has gifted ears or can consistently identify a hit song (no matter what they claim). This is proven by the fact that many massive hit songs only happened because a DJ decided to flip the record over and play the other side, rather than the song the label was pushing as a hit.
Being young and as a new artist, you look up to people in important positions in the music industry, assume they have expertise, and tend to treat their opinions as the gospel.
This presupposition is explained quite thoroughly and humorously in the book "The Platinum Rainbow," by Bob Monico and James Riordan. They call it: "Myth Number One: The Golden Reel to Reel & the Platinum Turntable." Essentially, it acknowledges the presumption newbie artists have that everyone in a key position in the music industry is an expert and rarely makes mistakes. Instead, the book declares: "They are rarely right." Furthermore, it states that sometimes, when you are rejected, it's because these people didn't give your music the attention it deserves. Why? Because they don't know what they're talking about.
📌 Pro Tip: Let me share a personal story that exemplifies the importance of being your own counsel. This is some of what I experienced when I was a major label recording artist and my group's songwriter.
One of the first things I learned about people in the industry — A&R, managers, agents, producers, songwriters, publishers — was that everybody has an opinion and they are all different. So, if they can't agree, which is the correct opinion? There's no consensus.
One of the first unfortunate things that befell our group was restructuring at the label. The A&R Manager who signed us, as well as other key personnel, all of whom were supportive of our group, were all fired. That made us essentially a ship without a captain at the label. We no longer had anyone at the label who had a vested interest our success.
The new head of A&R had come from an entirely different genre of music. He took on a very loose oversight of our group. In his estimation, we didn't have a "hit single," as he defined it. We had been talking to producers, but now our album plans were immediately frozen. We were told that we wouldn't be making another record until we delivered two songs that he considered "hits."
The next step was for me to work with outside "hit" songwriters. We got paired with numerous writers. Most of these were a poor fit. All of these writing sessions were arranged by either our label or our then-manager, who, like many in the industry, tended to focus on writers who were the "flavor of the week." In other words, they were trying to get us to write to the radio and emulate what was working for other groups, even though that would be copying someone else's style.
At this stage, I had ideas coming at me from every direction, most of which were entirely out of character for our group's identity. As a result, I was being pulled away from my identity, in terms of our style and sound, and the reason the label signed us in the first place. My head was spinning, and I could tell I was losing myself amid a sea of outside opinions, so I finally said, "Enough."
I'm sure that if I had followed what all these people were trying to get us to do, we would've alienated the core fans we had established and would have come out sounding like a generic mishmash. The danger of writing for the radio is that you can bring in a new group of fans based on a hit single that is nothing like any of your other songs. They won't like your old material and will want new material that is like that hit song. This is how a group can completely lose its identity.
What I did was become my own counsel. I reminded myself of who I was, who the group was, and the elements that defined our sound and style. Instead of going with the recommendations of the label and our manager, I sought out songwriters who I felt wrote songs that were closest to our style.
The result? These collaborations gave birth to songs that sounded like us, yet also incorporated those radio-friendly elements, and introduced aspects I may not have conceived of on my own. After all, two heads are better than one. And we did deliver those "hit potential" songs; the new head of A&R greenlighted our album.
🎯 The Bottom Line: It's a bizarre irony of the music industry that it will sign an artist or group because it loves their originality, only to turn around and try to get them to conform to what's currently "selling." The music business is about business—not art. So when your gut is telling you something—don't listen to the so-called experts, and trust the instincts that drive you to create what's uniquely your style. That's not to say that you should never compromise or take advice. It's to say:
Ask yourself what being successful really looks like. Is it getting a major artist to cut your song, or is it finishing a song that says exactly what you meant to say? When you tie validation to the quality of your effort and growth, not external approval, you regain control of your creative energy.
Success can be a finished demo that sounds like you. It can be one lyric that finally captures something you've been trying to say for years. Celebrate those private victories—they're the foundation of public ones.
Most songwriters begin because they have to, because music helps them make sense of life. Somewhere along the way, it's easy to forget that original spark under the pressure to "make it."
When you hit discouraging stretches, go back to your roots. Write something for yourself again. Play an old song you never finished. Those moments often reconnect you with the joy that inspired you to begin in the first place.
Feedback is helpful, but not every critique deserves to live rent-free in your mind. Even professionals get conflicting advice from industry insiders. Take what serves the song and leave the rest.
The more confident you are in your creative instincts, the better you'll filter out the noise. Validation from others becomes a bonus, not the source of your self-worth.
Every great songwriter and artist has faced rejection—sometimes hundreds of times. The difference between those who quit and those who succeed is rarely talent; it's resilience.
At Country Demo Studio, we believe your music has worth long before it hits the airwaves. Whether you're just starting or building a catalog, your songs matter—because you wrote them.
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