As musicians, we’re always putting something out into the world. Maybe a new recording, a performance, a presentation, or some kind of debut. We’re constantly giving, presenting, sharing. And we need an audience for that.
But here’s what often happens. and I think it’s a big mistake. We put everything into the creation of the work, and then, maybe a week or two before the release or performance, we go into panic mode. Suddenly we’re flooding social media with posts, ads, and reminders: “Come to my gig!” “Listen to my new album!” “Check out this project!”
Sure, sometimes this last-minute push gets results. But in most cases, it doesn’t work the way we want it to.
Why? Because many of us are trying to activate an audience we haven’t really been connecting with. We show up out of nowhere and say, “Hey, I need you to come to this thing,” but people aren’t always ready to listen. It’s not personal. It’s just that if they haven’t seen or heard from you in a while—if you haven’t been present—they’ve already been engaged by others who have.
Social media isn’t just a billboard. It’s more like a conversation that never stops. And if you’re not in the conversation, you’re not top of mind. When you’re silent for too long, you fall behind those who are consistently engaging. So when it’s finally your turn to announce something, you’re starting from the bottom of the feed—literally and figuratively.
Here’s a common scenario many of us can relate to. You’ve got a new recording coming out. You hire a publicist, hand them the materials, and say, “Hey, get people excited about this.” You write a check for several thousand dollars and sit back, waiting for the buzz to build.
What usually happens? Sure, most publicists will get you something. A few reviews, maybe a feature or two. It’s rare that they come up completely empty. But more often than not, what they deliver falls short of what you were hoping for. And let’s be real—you didn’t spend $3,000, $4,000, or even $5,000 just for a couple blurbs. So you walk away saying, “This publicist was terrible,” or “This whole publicity thing just doesn’t work.”
But here’s the hard truth: most times, it’s not the publicist’s fault. It’s yours.
You put all the responsibility on them and did nothing to build interest yourself. You treated them like a magician rather than a megaphone. And that’s a mistake. If you really want to benefit from hiring a publicist, you can’t expect them to create the spotlight. You have to be the spotlight. Their job is to amplify what you’ve already built. They reflect attention; they don’t create it out of thin air.
If the only thing you’ve created is the music, that’s not enough. You need to cultivate a sense of presence, context, and narrative around your work. That’s what people connect to. And that’s what makes a publicist’s job actually work.
When I think about the books that I publish, it’s rarely the case that they just come out of nowhere. I’m usually writing on my blog, engaging people with ideas, sharing thoughts as they develop. I’m giving people a steady sense of who I am as a writer, how I think, what I care about.
So when a book finally drops, there’s already a relationship in place. People recognize the voice. They say, “Oh yeah, I know that guy. I like his ideas. Let me check this out.” That’s the result of groundwork—of staying present, being visible, and building trust over time.
And none of that is about scamming people or tricking them into buying something. It’s not a hustle. It’s just an honest continuation of a conversation that’s already happening. That’s the key. Engagement isn’t about selling; it’s about sharing. It’s about staying connected in a way that feels natural, not forced.
There are plenty of ways to engage. One approach that musicians used to use more often, though it’s fallen out of fashion a bit, is the full-on crowdfunding campaign. You’d raise money for your project and, in the process, get people excited about the recording. Fans weren’t just emotionally invested—they were financially invested. They had skin in the game. And so when the project finally came out, they felt a sense of ownership. It mattered more to them because they were part of it.
Now, I’m not saying everyone needs to go back to those days or that crowdfunding is the only way to build connection. But it’s a great example of how involvement creates engagement. There are other ways to do the same thing, just in smaller and more casual ways.
You can invite people into your process. For instance, say you’re trying to decide on an album cover—post a few options and ask, “Hey, which one do you like best?” Or you’re stuck between a few different title ideas. Put them out there and ask for input. Or maybe you just had a photo shoot and you’re torn between a couple images. Ask your audience which one speaks to them.
These may seem like little things, but they go a long way. They’re not gimmicks. They’re honest ways of saying: “Hey, I value your input. You’re part of this with me.”
It shifts the dynamic from “Here’s my finished product, come buy it” to “We’ve been building this together.” And when people feel like they’ve been part of the journey, they’re far more likely to care about the destination.
At the end of the day, you have to decide the best way to get your music out into the world. But my main point is this: engagement doesn’t start when the CD is finished—it starts much earlier. You’ve got to bring people into the vault, into the process, long before the final product is ready. That way, you stay in the driver’s seat.
Don’t just hand over all your power, and your money, to a publicist and hope for the best. Sometimes the most effective strategies are free. They just require time, honesty, and a willingness to connect.
Thanks for reading.
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