For a long time, I thought the goal was clear. Build an audience. Grow the numbers. Reach more people.
That’s the direction everything points you in as a musician — especially now. Streams, followers, reach, engagement. It all suggests that success is something you can measure, something you can scale.
And for a while, I leaned into that.
Chasing the Numbers
Across my releases, I’ve had over 2 million streams on Spotify. On paper, that sounds like something. And to get there, I put in the work. Posting online, day after day. Sharing music consistently. Trying to stay visible in a space that moves quickly and forgets even faster.
It took time. Effort. Persistence.
But here’s the part that doesn’t get talked about as much: It didn’t translate into much financially. Certainly not enough to cover the cost of making the music in the first place.
The Gap Between Effort and Return
There’s a disconnect in streaming that’s hard to ignore. You can reach a large number of people. You can build up streams over time. And still find that the return — financially, and sometimes emotionally — doesn’t match the effort.
That doesn’t mean it’s worthless. But it does mean it’s not always what you expect it to be. At some point, I had to ask myself a simple question:
What am I actually trying to get from this?
Stepping Away From the Chase
More recently, things have shifted. I now run Songwriter Evening. I play a small number of open mic nights. And something changed when I moved into those spaces.
People listen.
Not passively. Not in the background while doing something else. But properly — in the moment, in the room. There’s a different kind of connection there. Smaller, yes. But more immediate. More real. And I realised something I hadn’t fully appreciated before:
I was enjoying music again.
The Difference a Small Audience Makes
A small audience doesn’t mean no audience. It means something more focused. A handful of people in a room, paying attention. A conversation after a set. A reaction you can actually see and feel. It’s a different kind of feedback.
It doesn’t scale in the same way. It doesn’t show up in big numbers. But it carries weight. Because it’s direct.
Redefining What “Enough” Looks Like
There’s a point where you have to decide what you’re aiming for. If it’s audience growth above everything else, then the path is clear — and it’s a difficult one. It requires consistency, visibility, and a willingness to keep pushing, often without immediate reward.
And if that’s what you want, then genuinely — good luck to you. But it’s also worth being honest about the reality:
Very, very few musicians “make it” in that way.
That doesn’t mean it’s impossible. It just means it’s rare.
A Different Way of Measuring Value
What I’ve come back to is something simpler. Do I enjoy making music? Do I value the songs I’ve created? Do I get something meaningful from sharing them — even if it’s with a small number of people?
Right now, the answer to those questions is yes. And that feels more sustainable. Because it doesn’t rely on constant growth. It doesn’t depend on numbers going up. It exists regardless of scale.
The Quiet Reality
Most musicians operate in this space. Not millions of listeners. Not full-time careers built on streaming income. But something smaller.
A collection of songs. A handful of listeners. Occasional performances where people genuinely pay attention. It’s not the version of success that gets talked about the most. But it’s probably the most common.
Letting Go of the Pressure
Stepping away from chasing audience doesn’t mean giving up. It means changing focus. From: How many people are listening? To: What does this mean to me?
That shift removes a certain kind of pressure. You’re no longer trying to meet an external benchmark. You’re just making the best music you can, and sharing it where it fits.
Why It Still Matters
Even with a small audience — or at times, a very small one — the act of creating and sharing music still matters. Because the alternative is not making it at all.
And if you have the ability to create something, to turn ideas into songs, to put something into the world that didn’t exist before, that has value in itself. Regardless of how many people hear it.
In the End
I’ve seen both sides of it. The push for streams. The effort to grow an audience. And now, the quieter space of playing to smaller rooms and actually enjoying it again.
For me, this might feel closer to why I started. Not to chase numbers. But to make music. And to share it — even if that sharing happens on a smaller scale than I once imagined.
Because in the end, a small audience that listens is worth more than a large one that doesn’t. And if you’re able to create something meaningful, and find even a few people who connect with it…
That might just be enough.