One of the quiet traps songwriters fall into is thinking about the audience too early in the songwriting process.
- Who is this for?
- Will people get it?
- Does this sound current enough, emotional enough, commercial enough?
These questions feel responsible, even professional. But when asked too soon, they can quietly derail a song before it has a chance to become what it needs to be.
In an interview, Rick Rubin once said that when it comes to the reason why a creator creates, “the audience comes last.” For songwriters, this isn’t a philosophical statement. It’s a practical one.
It points to an order of responsibility in the songwriting process. Not what matters most, but what must come first.
Songwriting Works Best When Responsibility Has a Sequence
Songwriting is often treated like a form of communication that starts with the listener. But in reality, songs don’t begin with communication. They begin with discovery.
A song doesn’t arrive fully formed. It emerges. And each stage of that emergence carries a different responsibility. Confuse the order, and the song becomes forced. Respect it, and the song tends to find its own balance.
Responsibility #1: The Impulse
Every song begins with an impulse.
This might be a lyric fragment, a melodic shape, a rhythmic feel, or a specific emotional tension. It is rarely clear at first, and it is almost always fragile.
At this stage, the songwriter’s responsibility is not evaluation. It’s attention.
The moment you ask whether the idea is strong enough, original enough, or useful enough, you interrupt the process. The impulse hasn’t asked to be judged. It has asked to be followed.
Most unfinished songs don’t fail because the idea was weak. They fail because the impulse was abandoned far too early.
Responsibility #2: Truth
Once the impulse has space to develop, the next responsibility is truth.
Truth in songwriting is not about facts. It’s about emotional accuracy. Writing what you actually feel rather than what sounds good, polite, or impressive.
This is where many songwriters begin to self-censor. Lines get softened. Emotions get summarised instead of expressed. The song becomes safer, but thinner.
Listeners may not know what’s missing, but they feel it. Songs without truth don’t offend, but they don’t linger either.
Truth gives a song weight. It gives the song its credibility.
Responsibility #3: The Song Itself
Only after impulse and truth are honoured does craft fully step into the picture.
Now the songwriter’s responsibility shifts from expression to service. What does the song need to communicate clearly? What structure supports it? What should be repeated, and what should be removed?
This is where discipline matters. Sometimes the right choice is simplicity. Sometimes it’s restraint. Sometimes it’s cutting the line you like most because it draws attention away from the song as a whole.
At this stage, you’re no longer writing at the song. You’re shaping the song so it can stand on its own.
Responsibility #4: Yourself as a Songwriter
Beyond the individual song, there is a responsibility to yourself as a creative person.
Does this song reflect your values? Your perspective? Your way of seeing the world? Would you still stand behind it years from now, even if it didn’t connect widely?
This isn’t about branding or style. It’s about integrity. Over time, this responsibility is what creates a coherent body of work rather than a collection of disconnected attempts.
Songwriters who ignore this stage often end up chasing reactions instead of meaning, which leads to creative burnout.
Responsibility #5: The Listener
Only now does the audience enter the songwriting process. At this point, responsibility to the listener is not about giving them what they want. It’s about respect.
Have you made the emotional intent clear? Is the song accessible without being obvious? Does it invite rather than perform?
Listeners respond to conviction far more than calculation. They trust songs that feel necessary rather than engineered.
This is what it means for the audience to come last. Not last in importance, but last in sequence.
Why This Order Matters
When the audience is placed first, songwriting becomes cautious. Every line carries expectation. Every choice feels like a test.
When the order of responsibility is honoured, songwriting becomes steadier. Risk feels less threatening because it’s grounded in something real. The song develops its own internal logic.
Putting the audience last doesn’t mean ignoring them. It means trusting them.
The strongest songs don’t ask permission. They tell the truth, take their shape, and let the listener decide what it means.
That’s not detachment. That’s simply respect.
