Header: Sarah Jihae Kaye

Creative indulgence exists on a spectrum. On one end lies space for the self-loathing perfectionist who fashions albums from the depth of their vulnerability; a process that can unravel over the course of many years. On the other end, the confident zealot that releases their fourth full-length project two months after the release of their previous one; they love their music and are eager to flaunt it. These two contrasting approaches lend their art its characteristic and carefully crafted identity, one that becomes distinctly theirs.

Artists, regardless of their position on this creative spectrum, are responsible for the 100,000+ songs uploaded to Spotify every day. With streaming platforms becoming oversaturated with new projects, and music becoming ever more accessible, we should not be surprised at the emergence of a clear overlap of sounds; pop-punk has melded with hip-hop & experimental ambience, while 80s pop is re-explored through the lens of drum & bass. Today’s artists have no intention of staying in one lane, and that freedom is exhilarating. But with such ease of accessibility, lazy and shallow artistic comparison has become rife in how we evaluate music. An understanding of the creative process involved in music production can allow us to help artists retain their individuality. 

When a fledgling artist emerges from the depths of their bedroom and hands us a project so evidently inspired by their favourite musicians, our reception as consumers holds a fair amount of weight, and with it, the responsibility to be thorough and fair in our judgments. A label like “derivative” tells us nothing about the quality or substance of one’s music; all art is derivative, as art is inseparable from inspiration. Brushing off one’s art with an obscure critique, or declaring it a rip-off because of some semblance to another artist, directly disregards the individuality that is wound within their body of work. Understandably, something that requires endless amounts of time to produce cannot be fully comprehended in one listen.

We cannot refute the reality that some music simply lacks technical refinement, but beyond the production quality and the timbre of their voice, how does their music drift from the styles from which they pull? Exploring their art beyond a superficial listen can help us appreciate the individuality within the music and appreciate its roots. The more we revel in their distinct style, the more we can articulate what it is that listeners can hope to find in their music, drawing in others to their art.

This narrative even permeates the way we discuss the music that we enjoy listening to. We might find ourselves resorting to drawing one-off comparisons for newly discovered artists, reducing their art to sounding “basically like ____”. Creatives deserve more than being judged as a replica of other artists. It would serve us well to remember that artists do not typically thrive by creating music from another person’s experiences. Rather, their art is forged from the aching of their most disheartening disputes, the warmth of their dearest relationships and the desire to soar past their own ambitions, all of which is cultured as a result of their life experiences.

Regardless of the degree of resemblance to the source of inspiration, audiences are also often ignorant of the fact that budding artists, when releasing their first projects, often stick to the creative stylings they love in pursuit of a sense of security. This may be interpreted as inauthentic, but is simply tied to the process of creative growth. As creatives newly navigating the overstimulating world of publicized art, some of us are comforted by the fact that we haven’t strayed too far into the experimental and too far from what we know; we hope that we can feel validated by an unalienated audience. Constantly walking the line of artistic authenticity, we cling to the possibility that if we can fathom compromising our art just enough to guarantee some modicum of external approval, our music would be worth the countless hours we put into it.

Nevertheless, this “safety net” that creatives place below themselves rarely rests there permanently. Having finally shed the need for external validation, the initial and inspired works of an artist gradually give way to more refined and confidently authentic pieces. Neatly folding the safety net and placing it to the side, we take the plunge into the free fall of artistic creation. Falling, yet somehow weightless, we now have the time to reflect on who we are, who we want to be, and how our art can act as a manifestation of this new identity; we can finally become uninhibited and unapologetic in our pursuit of fearless creation. Finally, our identity distinctly bleeds into our craft, naturally and effortlessly. Our art having become unmistakeable in its likeness to our essence, we are no longer seen as an “intergalactic version of Kanye” or somebody trying to copy another artist. We simply are. In retrospect, we can only hope that future artists benefit from the safety net as we did.

Even if the process of artistic maturation is seen, it must be vividly shared and explicitly dissected if is to be understood. Hopefully, this can cultivate an implicit respect in the way we address artists, a respect that will have us naturally processing art beyond the superficial one-off comparison. As we homogenize emerging music, and the experiences of those who create it, we continue to slowly chip away at the amateur art that acts as the foundation for musical innovation. If this foundation collapses, is there any way to ensure creative renewal?