Your Reality is Negotiable

Redefining Success for Musicians

Original photo by Brian Zhang, created on Canva

The pathway to success for musicians has always felt narrow, like a dimly lit corridor leading towards the stage.

Yet, lurking in the shadows are the hidden challenges of poor mental health, financial struggles, and the uncertainty of finding stability. These pitfalls, veiled beneath the glamorous facade of the “struggling musician” or “tortured artist,” include poor mental health, financial illiteracy, the instability of finding a home, and a lack of real-world and relationship skills.

Depression, suicide, and financial struggle often lurk behind the scenes, concealed by romanticized tales of artistic suffering.

We’ve seen it time and again, from the tragic tales of legends like Miles Davis and Whitney Houston to the struggles of our contemporaries. It’s time we shed light on the shadows that haunt our industry. The narrative of the tortured artist may be romanticized, but its consequences are all too real. It’s a narrative ingrained into the minds of aspiring musicians from a tender age, whispered like a gospel in the ears of dreamers.

Growing up, I was handed a worn-out playbook that dictated the only route to professional musician status:

  • Play every open mic night at every pub and club in Sydney.

  • Busk on street corners, hoping for spare change and a listening ear.

  • Record a demo album and flood every studio, record label, and radio station with copies.

  • Pray for a chance at airtime or a fleeting slot at a local festival, compensated with nothing but “exposure.”

  • Await the elusive record deal, signing away creative control and the lion’s share of earnings for a shot at stardom.

When this narrative inevitably faltered, the fallback plan was stark:

  • Abandon dreams of performance, retreating into the shadows of a dying art.

  • Return to music school, earn a degree in education, and resign to a life of underpaid stability in the classroom.

In most careers, options are presented as pathways to prosperity or pitfalls to avoid. But for musicians, the choices often boiled down to a grim binary:

  • Embrace poverty with pride, masquerading as the archetypal “starving artist.”

  • Sacrifice dreams at the altar of compromise, only to realize too late that the balance struck was a hollow victory

My Moment of Truth

A photo from a performance at my local open mic in 2016, just before I approached the organiser.

I vividly recall my rebellion against this predetermined fate at 16, strumming my guitar at a local open mic in Western Sydney. Even then, I yearned for control over my narrative, determined to steer my course through the music industry’s turbulent waters.

The open mic, a weekly ritual where 30 hopefuls clamoured for their moment in the spotlight, painted a poignant picture of shattered dreams and deferred ambitions. Amongst middle-aged troubadours reliving past glories and fledgling talents dreaming of Madison Square Garden, I stood alone.

In a sea of cover songs and recycled chords, I dared to be different. With original compositions and soulful instrumentals, I carved my niche, a solitary voice amidst the cacophony of conformity.

One evening in August 2016, emboldened by a spark of audacity, I approached the organizer, a veteran of Sydney’s music scene. I pleaded for a chance, a single opportunity to prove that my music had merit beyond the confines of open mic obscurity.

His response, though well-intentioned, delivered a blow akin to a shattering crescendo:

“Kid, the public wants familiarity. Classic hits and chart-topping tunes, not your experimental musings.”

It felt as though he’d submerged my dreams in liquid nitrogen, the icy shock instantly crystallizing my aspirations.

In an instant, my aspirations were encased in an alternate reality, a frozen universe where my vision lay suspended and shattered, far removed from the warmth of possibility. The music scene, a labyrinthine maze of conformity and convention, offered scant refuge for the unconventional dreamer.

Undeterred, I delved deeper into Sydney’s musical landscape, unraveling the threads that bound musicians to the status quo. Conversations with peers and mentors echoed a resounding refrain: conform or fade into obscurity.

Even esteemed jazz virtuosos, icons of innovation, prescribed a formulaic path to success: hours of practice, endless gigs, and dogged pursuit of recognition.

Yet, amidst the echoes of tradition and conformity, a revelation dawned: the music industry’s outdated paradigm was not an immutable fate but a negotiable reality.

Writing My Script

To craft a new narrative, I embarked on a journey of self-discovery, embracing three pillars of empowerment:

  • Financial literacy became my compass, guiding me towards stability and independence.

  • Business acumen and marketing savvy became my tools, carving pathways to visibility and recognition.

  • Mental fortitude became my armour, shielding me from the crushing weight of doubt and despair.

Above all, I realized that the 21st century offered a kaleidoscope of musical possibilities, each pathway beckoning with promise and potential. Teaching, once an afterthought, blossomed into a profound calling, a conduit for connection and transformation.

Between 2019 and 2023, I charted my course, navigating the currents of uncertainty with newfound clarity and purpose. Financial education granted me freedom from the shackles of scarcity, while introspection and vulnerability transformed my music into a beacon of hope and healing.

From this crucible of reinvention emerged two music schools, bastions of creativity and authenticity. Eschewing prescribed curriculums and tired playlists, I forged a sanctuary where musicians could thrive on their terms.

Since 2019, I’ve nurtured over a thousand students, cultivating not just musicians but empowered individuals poised to chart their destinies. This paradigm shift has not only granted me financial stability but unlocked a myriad of opportunities: from a burgeoning writing career to coaching fellow musicians and advocating for mental health awareness.

A Message To My Fellow Musicians

To the aspiring musician who finds themselves in my shoes, just as I did back in 2014 at the tender age of 16, I want you to know that you hold the reins to your destiny.

Even if your heart is set on following in the footsteps of legends like Ed Sheeran or Taylor Swift, today’s landscape offers resources that can streamline your journey, making it both financially and spiritually rewarding.

Gone are the days of locking yourself away in a room for 16-hour practice marathons, only to perform in dingy venues where the most lively creatures are the rats scurrying behind the beat-up pool table. Forget about pinning your hopes on a shady record label promising you the “deal of a lifetime” — more like the deal of your nightmares.

Yes, the journey still demands hard work, but thanks to the power of social media, all you need is a phone with a camera, an instrument, a story to tell, and perhaps a song. You can showcase your talent without the anxiety of wondering if anyone will show up to your gig, or worse, if you’ll make it home safely amidst the chaos of late-night music venues filled with intoxicated patrons.

And to the seasoned musician who’s been grinding away for over two decades, grappling with the looming threat of AI taking over live performances, I say this: you have a chance for a fresh start, a new chapter waiting to be written.

Let’s set aside debates about whether music was “better in your day” and instead focus on seizing the opportunities at hand. Use the resources available to you to do what our predecessors from the ’80s and ’90s couldn’t — become a beacon of change, a symbol of hope for those teetering on the brink of giving up.

Believe me, the second act of your career holds untold potential. It’s time to inspire others with your resilience and remind them that success, even the second time around, can be sweeter than ever before.

P.S. This is just a glimpse into the conversations we have over at “The Mental Musician,” my newsletter where I share firsthand experiences navigating the challenges of being a professional musician while prioritising mental health.

But it doesn’t stop there. I’ve cultivated a vibrant community of over 200 musicians — a safe space where we can open up about our struggles and support one another on this journey.

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