At what point are you allowed to call yourself a musician?

It sounds like a simple question. But for a lot of independent artists, it isn’t. Because there’s often a gap between making music and feeling like you have the right to say:

“I’m a musician.”

And I’ve realised over the years that much of that gap has very little to do with the music itself.

The Strange Need for Permission

I’ve written songs. Released albums. Recorded music over many years. Played live. Had over 2 million Spotify streams. And yet, for a long time, I still felt hesitant describing myself as a musician.

Not because I wasn’t making music. But because somewhere along the way, we absorb the idea that being a “real musician” requires external validation.

You need:

• a full-time income from music
• large audiences
• industry recognition
• visible success
• legitimacy granted by other people

Without those things, it can feel like you’re only pretending. Like music is something you do — not something you are.

The “Proper Musician” Myth

I think a lot of musicians quietly carry this feeling. Especially independent artists balancing music around work, family and everyday life.

You can spend years creating, recording and releasing music while still internally describing yourself as:

• “someone who makes music”
• “a hobbyist”
• “part-time”
• “not a real musician”

As though there’s some invisible threshold you haven’t crossed yet. But the strange thing is this: That threshold keeps moving.

When Vinyl Changed Perception

One of the clearest examples of this for me came recently with the vinyl release of Present Tense. The album itself originally came out in 2021. The songs didn’t change. The work behind it didn’t change.

But the reaction to the vinyl release was completely different. Suddenly, people responded as though something had shifted dramatically.

It felt like I’d gone from:

“someone making music”

to:

“a proper musician.”

And all that had really changed was the format. That experience made me realise how much legitimacy is tied to perception rather than the actual work itself. Streaming made the music accessible. Vinyl made it feel real to people.

The Problem With External Definitions

The danger in relying on external validation is that it never fully settles the question.

Because there’s always another benchmark:

• more listeners
• more income
• bigger venues
• more recognition

And if your identity depends on reaching those milestones, you spend your creative life waiting to feel legitimate. Waiting to finally feel like you’ve earned the title. But creativity doesn’t really work like that.

Quiet Creativity Still Counts

Most musicians exist in a quieter reality. Small audiences. Modest releases. Music made around everything else life requires.

And yet the emotional investment is real. The time is real. The work is real. The creativity is real. You don’t spend years writing songs, recording albums and continuing despite uncertainty unless music genuinely matters to you. That matters more than whether the world formally recognises it.

The Identity Gap

I think part of the struggle comes from the fact that independent music-making often happens privately. You’re recording in small rooms. Writing late at night. Releasing songs online into a huge digital space where visibility is difficult to measure meaningfully.

From the outside, it can appear almost invisible. And when something feels invisible, it becomes harder to see it as legitimate. That’s why moments like live performances or physical releases can feel so important. They make the work tangible.

The Difference Between Making Music and Being Seen

One thing I’ve noticed is that the feeling of being a musician often arrives not when you make music — but when other people see you as one.

That can happen:

• after a live performance
• after releasing a physical album
• after external recognition
• after being introduced publicly as an artist

It’s less about the work itself and more about social acknowledgement. But that creates a strange contradiction: You can already be a musician long before you feel like one.

The Reality Most Musicians Live In

The truth is that very few musicians reach the level society tends to associate with musical legitimacy.

Most will never:

• make a full-time living from music
• tour professionally
• gain large audiences
• achieve mainstream recognition

But that doesn’t invalidate the music they create. If anything, it highlights how much genuine creativity exists outside commercial success.

Why I’m Thinking Differently About It Now

Over time, I’ve started trying to separate identity from outcome. Because if you only allow yourself to feel like a musician after reaching certain levels of success, you’re handing ownership of your identity to external factors you can’t fully control.

The reality is simpler than that. If music consistently pulls you back… If you keep writing songs…
If you continue creating despite uncertainty… Then music is clearly part of who you are. Whether it’s commercially successful or not.

The Importance of Owning It

I think there’s something important about independent artists allowing themselves to own the identity. Not arrogantly. Not performatively. Just honestly.

Because constantly minimising your own creativity changes the way you relate to it. You start treating the work as less significant than it really is.

In the End

Maybe the real question isn’t:

“Have I earned the right to call myself a musician?”

Maybe it’s:

“Why do I think I need permission in the first place?”

Because the music exists regardless. The songs are real. The work is real. The years spent creating are real.