Is this work... or is this play?

I wanna talk about something that’s been on my mind lately. 

The word “play.” 

We play music. We play instruments. We play shows. We play for audiences. 

And I’ve always found it interesting that we use that word to describe what musicians do. 

Because somewhere along the way, I think the word play has confused society’s perception of what it means to pursue music professionally. 

I mean... think about it. 

When someone says they want to become a professional musician, there’s often this underlying assumption that they’re trying to avoid getting a “real job.” 

That they just wanna… play. 

As if choosing a creative career is somehow choosing leisure over labor!!

If only. 

Building a career as an independent artist is one of the grrrrrrindiest fucking roads you could ever go down. 

And I’m saying that as someone who’s spent years on both sides of the music industry. I’ve helped build careers for other artists, worked in marketing and strategy, taught artist entrepreneurship… and now I’m living it firsthand. 

Believe me when I say… being the artist is a whole different animal. 

There’s a particular phase of building an artist career that doesn’t get talked about enough. The phase before anything really catches fire. 
You’re not... completely... unknown anymore. 

You’ve got some traction. People are responding to your work. Little signs that something might actually be happening. 

But you’re still doing almost everything yourself. You’re the artist, manager, booking agent, marketer, publicist, accountant, content creator, creative director… the entire fucking company. 

You’re rubbing two sticks together, trying to create enough friction to start a fire. 

And man… it can be exhausting. 
One day you’re editing videos. The next you’re researching promoters, emailing agents, negotiating opportunities, building relationships, shipping merchandise, and trying to convince someone to take a chance on what you’re building. 
And somewhere in the middle of all that… you must create time to actually make music.

Which brings me to the 30/70 situation.
I’ve been noticing something about my own life lately. 

On a good week, maybe 30% of my working time is spent actually making music. 

The other 70%? 

Everything required to turn that music into a sustainable career. 

Some weeks I’ll look back on five days of nonstop work and realize I barely touched an instrument. Not because I was lazy or uninspired. But because I was so busy building a career around the music that I didn’t have time to make any. 

You can spend an entire week working your ass off as a musician without playing a single note.

There’s something almost absurd about that. 

And here’s where it gets complicated: all that other work HUGELY matters. 

The outreach. The relationships. The content. The infrastructure. You can’t ignore those things and expect the world to magically discover your music. 

But at the same time… what’s the point of building a machine to support your art if the machine eventually consumes all the time you have to create it? Especially ironic considering my live show is literally called... lol, TAME THE MACHINE.  

Sometimes I look at established artists and get excited at the prospect of having a team. I should know, I was on so many of them.

An agent finding opportunities. A manager handling relationships. Someone coordinating releases, press, content, and all the administrative stuff that eats away at your day. 

Imagine waking up and having your primary responsibility be… making great fucking music and keep the vision. 

There’s a difference between working hard at your craft and working hard just to create the conditions that allow you to practice your craft. 

Early in your career, you’re often doing both. And the second one can easily swallow the first. That’s why building a team isn’t just about scaling your business. It’s about buying back your ability to be an artist. 

Here’s where I think we need to be careful tho: there’s a temptation to convince ourselves that the more exhausted we are, the more serious we must be. That every meeting is an opportunity. Every email needs a response. Every hour not spent working is an hour wasted. 

I’ve definitely fallen into that trap. And lately I’ve been realizing something: being busy building an artist career is not the same thing as building a great body of art. 

You can be incredibly productive on the business side while making very little creative progress. And if that goes on long enough, you have to ask yourself what you’re actually building. 

A music career? Or a full-time administrative job with a musician’s name attached to it? 

Oof. Yeah.

That one stings because I recognize myself in it. But I'm getting out of it! 

So here’s my zag… 

Some of the hardest-working people I’ve ever met are artists nobody’s heard of yet. 

They’re working day jobs. Raising families. Mastering their craft. Booking their own shows. Creating opportunities where none existed. Rubbing those sticks together, hoping something catches. And I have tremendous respect for them. 

But here’s what I’ve been reminding myself lately, and maybe you need to hear it too:

Don’t become so good at the business of being an artist that you forget how to be one. 

Make the calls. Send the emails. Build the relationships. Take the meetings. Do the work. 

But protect the thing that started all of this. 

Because ultimately, nobody fell in love with your music because of how many emails you sent. They fell in love with what happened when you sat down… and played.