How do you feel when you listen to your own music? (Page 3 of 5)

It's a combination of "Fucking love this track" and "I wonder if anyone else listens to this?"
I have another musical project deal which is kind of a joke. And I do the tracks and kind of laugh at them at first, and then I think "OH FUCK I LOVE THIS".

Last edited by godinpants (Aug 15, 2012 10:56 am)

Thank you!

There are a lot of things to respond to in this thread, I may forget something....

I think all of my collaborations have been in lyrics, not the music itself. In a past life of sorts, I had a producer ask me to add bridge sections and things, but he didn't provide actual material, he expected me to come up with it. I was taught two related things in that part of my life-

1) Never tell your audience that they have interpreted your work incorrectly. They become fans because of a fantasy built up around you and your work, and you must do everything in your power to maintain it (as long as the fantasy is healthy, of course.)
2) To ensure this fantasy is possible and can be nurtured, be careful not to over-assert in your words, be they lyrics, title texts, concepts, whatever. The more specific your image, the less likely another person is to latch onto it, however; if your lyrics have few nouns and fewer pronouns, and are abstract and terse, a listener can imagine them to mean just about anything.

In summary, to grow the largest possible audience (if that is even your goal,) you must allow them to be wrong as often and in as many ways as allowable.

It's okay to feel like someone you admire is doing "better" than you, but try to remember that they don't stop improving just because you think you want to catch up to them: the only way you can catch your idols is if they stop working (or take a direction that no longer relates to you.)

I don't believe that art is some higher form of communication- if it is such a great thing, why do we spend so much time getting it wrong? I only speak for myself, of course, but I had a serious psychological block that came from the belief that my art was some kind of higher calling. Neither life not art are contests unless you want to artificially (root word "art") turn them into contests for yourself. Performance is communication, and art can communicate things in a limited way.

I come up with stories, titles, and concepts after the music is done, except for the wedding bit which was created for an event.

Also, for zzzv, an instrumental protest song:

Last edited by chunter (Aug 15, 2012 4:52 pm)

The way I feel about a piece of my creation depends solely if I think it's good or not.

If I'm proud of it, listening to it feels awesome.

If I'm not, however, it can even feel embarrassing.

I do too. I think that if I am going to release something for other people to listen to, I better enjoy listening to it too. I also like to really analyze what the heck I'm doing, like an athlete watching tapes of their own plays, thinking about how to improve or try something different. Some of my songs I will listen to a lot, and sometimes I will listen to my songs alongside songs by other artists that I like, just to try and identify what they might be doing better or what I might be missing.

It depends on whether or not I managed to achieve my vision with that song. The hardest problem is transcription. I have an idea that is totally "me" and what I want, but after spending 2 weeks in my favorite music program, the end result doesn't sound like what I had in mind. In the few cases that I actually manage to lay down what I wanted, I am very connected to that piece of work. In the majority of cases, I love them like a stepchild. In the worst of cases, I've already disowned them and tried very hard to forget.

Yes, very much so. There is an impractical euphoria that follows right after I finish a song. For a while I listen to it multiple times and I think it's great. Then reality sets in and usually I don't like it anymore. If I still like it after that stage, then it might actually be decent.

Yes and yes. Multiple times. It requires compromise. You can't be too attached to your own ideas or opinion. You have to trust that the end result will be better for it, even if you have to give and take.

What I keep going back to in evaluating my own opinion of my work is that constant reminder that my opinion doesn't usually line up with other people's opinions. I'm always surprised by which songs of mine people like the most. If I'm collaborating with someone, it's a good opportunity to just see where we differ. I like to take a step back and say, "why does this person have a different preference here? What do they like about this? What is their taste and how is it different from mine?"

The most positive exercise for me has been trying to dissect songs that people like and determining what features they are drawn to. Like, some people like epic chord-based buildups, some people like growly basslines, some people like intricate percussion, some people like funky guitar licks, etc. Especially when talking to someone who likes different genres of music, it's interesting to try to identify the common threads between the songs they like, you can often find similar building blocks between them. Sometimes when I'm listening to my own music I'll think to myself, "who would like this? who do I know that might like to hear this?" and when I'm writing music I might have a target listener in mind.

Just my $0.02

I really hate my own music, along with most of my other creative output.

I'd say a good summary of my artistic output and life right now is the ongoing process of keeping perfectionism in check long enough to make something imperfect and learn from it.

Occasionally, I'm taken aback by my own greatness.

Last edited by NationalBroadcastNetwork (Aug 16, 2012 2:24 am)

when I listen to my music, I feel nothing.

but when I look to Subway Sonicbeat walking through Sao Paulo streets shirtless, I feel a boner.