One of the mistakes we make as artists is thinking like folks in the pop world—believing that success comes from a single recording. It’s hard not to fall into that trap. And if your recording isn’t successful, you’re left wondering: are people just not hearing it, or maybe you haven’t given them much to hear?
Having dealt with my fair share of record labels, I understand the pressure to create something that makes money, even at the expense of your artistic fulfillment. Trust me, just writing about this is triggering.
The truth is, there’s rarely anything in a record contract that speaks to the quality of the music—only the quantity. Specifically, the quantity of music sold. I’ve never heard of someone losing a record deal because the music wasn’t swinging or because the writing wasn’t great. So, I get why we sometimes think this way.
But this mindset is the opposite of what it means to be an artist. An artist’s focus should be on building a body of work, not just one or two recordings. I’ve never been to a gallery opening where they displayed only one painting. It sounds almost laughable. Even more absurd, imagine an artist spending thousands on renting a gallery and promoting a single piece. Yet, that’s exactly what musicians do when they go into debt for a record release gig. I’ve heard of musicians spending ten grand on publicists just to get a few reviews in mid-tier magazines. Don’t even get me started on the Grammy campaigns musicians pay for. That’s money that could go into producing another recording.
I’ve been guilty of using publicists myself, more than once. Almost twenty years ago, I got a tenure-track university position. For those who know the world of academia, you understand how important it is to have an impressive dossier when applying for reappointment every year during your six-year probationary period. I quickly learned that critical reviews are one of the most tangible metrics administrators use to assess the value of your work.
Because I was teaching full-time and racing against the clock of everyday life, I didn’t have time to take the traditional route—spending two years trying to get a record deal and hoping it would generate some reviews and gigs. So, I went straight to the publicist. Since solo saxophone recordings were easier and cheaper to produce, I released something every year and a half. I wasn’t trying to build a career or promote myself. I just needed the reviews for my dossier. But to my surprise, people started to notice the work. I began appearing on critics’ polls, in Facebook groups, and on blogs. I was building a career from my basement.
In hindsight, one reason this approach worked—quality of work aside—was because I was patient with the solo saxophone medium. I didn’t release a solo record, then a big band album, and then a quartet project. Not that this would have been wrong, but in the eyes of the public, I was building a vision-specific body of work, maybe even a legacy. A publicist once told me that most musicians’ mistake is releasing just one recording. I get it—a single recording doesn’t hold much weight. It’s like a visual artist trying to make a name with only one painting. There are always exceptions, of course.
I understand that time, money, and access to resources play significant roles in building a body of work. But today, it’s easier than ever before. If you have the drive and determination, it’s possible. You don’t need to wait around for someone to pick you—you can pick yourself.
Ultimately, we have to be patient with the process. Not everyone can win a contest and be hailed as the second coming. Not everyone will have a viral TikTok video. You have to look at your career as an artist through the lens of building long-term artistic wealth. You can either waste your money chasing metaphorical lottery tickets or strategically build wealth over a lifetime.
So don’t focus on being a one-hit wonder. Keep them wondering what you’re going to do next.
In the end, a single recording may fade, but a body of work lasts. The artists who endure are those who continually create, shaping not just a career, but a legacy.
