The Algorithm's Favorite Musician (And Why That's Not You)
The algorithm loves musicians who fit.
Who slide neatly into playlists labeled "Chill Indie Rock" or "Moody Folk Vibes."
Who make music that sounds like other music that already worked.
The algorithm rewards the predictable, the categorizable, the safe.
But you didn't become a musician to be safe.
You became a musician because you had something to say that couldn't be said any other way.
Here's what the algorithm doesn't tell you: the moment you start making music for it, you stop making music for humans.
And humans—not algorithms—buy concert tickets.
Humans share songs with their friends.
Humans cry in their cars to your lyrics.
Humans tattoo your words on their bodies.
The algorithm can't do that.
So here's your choice:
You can chase the playlist placement, the viral moment, the fleeting dopamine hit of algorithmic approval.
Or you can do the harder thing.
You can make music that matters.
Music that doesn't fit in a box because it's too big, too weird, too honest.
Music that makes people feel less alone in a world of boxes.
The musicians who build careers that last aren't the ones who game the system.
They're the ones who build something the system can't replicate.
Your weird is your asset.
Your vulnerability is your competitive advantage.
Your refusal to be categorizable is what makes you memorable.
The algorithm will always prefer the musician who sounds like everyone else.
But your fans? They'll choose the musician who sounds like no one else.
Every time.
