Our commercial expectations of success are all bullshit: an open letter by Marta Palombo

Historically, a singer (particularly a female singer) was considered to be just a step above a prostitute. Did you know that? It seems silly now -- until you strip back the layers of respectability the development of a music industry has given us. Now, we are pop stars, artists, masters in our craft, and all the while the most basic premise of our whole career is still this: we have to sell ourselves. We are a product to be consumed, and no one will think twice about discarding us when we are no longer relevant.

When we see the singers we admire most, we first and foremost see the brand they embody and the product they provide. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not criticizing! This form of branding is done on purpose by all of the smartest executives in the industry. It’s hard to love a complex human being; love is patience through rough patches, long stretches of uninspired boredom, and it takes a lot of forgiveness. But a brand? An image? It’s easy to love that, because love is also the excitement of the old made new, the simple beauty of instant attraction, and the long enduring devotion to an idea, whatever that idea may be.

We live in a wonderful age right now where the internet has given us access to every resource we could ever dream possible. Anything and anyone can create a brand, and because nearly every single human being in the world has access to it, you are guaranteed to find an audience -- which means everybody else can do that too.

Competition and comparison are the two worst demons the music industry has to offer. There is no one road to success, and for that matter there is no one definition of success. I think people on the outside of the music industry have a dated view of success, and of course it makes sense that they would since they are not directly involved in its everyday workings. I grew up with the most well-meaning adults and peers who recognized my desire to pursue music, and we all had a similar story in mind: graduate high school. Move to a big city. Go to a famous music school. Maybe audition for American Idol or The Voice somewhere along the way. One day someone will notice you and, like Prince Charming from the movies of our childhood, they’ll whisk you away into superstardom.

So of course, that’s what I did.

I moved to Nashville, I started school at Belmont University, and I sang and sang and sang. I wrote songs about love and nature and the complexity of being human, and felt a sinking disappointment when they were overshadowed by the many talented songwriters who have a knack for catchy lyrics and fast beats. I played shows and spent every week signing up for open mics around town, only to feel invisible when one of my peers played at a bigger, more reputable venue in town. I went to classes and felt worthless after hearing of yet another wonderful and deserving artist dropping out because they got signed by a label.

Every time I tried to write a catchy, fast paced pop song, I hated it. Every time I tried to hang out with people who I thought were doing better than me, I felt alone. Every time I dreamed, I ached for the day when I would be standing on that Grammy Award stage, supported by my millions of Spotify followers. And one day, about a year and a half ago, I realized that I had not played a show or written a single song in months because I was never good enough compared to everyone else’s instagram-perfect lives. I was deeply uninspired, lost, and more than a little unhappy.

And I realized that, frankly, our commercial expectations of success are all bullshit.

Because something had happened during all of those months and years of comparing every step of my success to everyone else -- I had made music. In order to understand what I mean by that, you need to dive into my soul for a moment: music is my entire being. It is my passion, my purpose in life, and my one true love. The moment I opened my mouth to sing as a child was the moment I realized what love should feel like. I didn’t start writing songs because I wanted to, I did it because I needed to. A day in my mind is a day full of fragments of melodies and pieces of disjointed lyrics that chase each other around at the slightest invitation. I cannot process any feeling properly until I have written about it. If something frustrates me, I walk around all day as a huffing ball of anger until I come up with a verse that addresses it, and suddenly the anger finds a purpose and a direction. Suddenly, I can finally figure out why I was angry in the first place! When I fell in love with my boyfriend years ago, I didn’t even realize the jumbled feelings of fear and excitement and blind happiness were love until I wrote a song about him. When I write, everything makes sense.

So it stands to reason that, even when I spent years trying to write catchy pop songs and comparing myself to my peers, I still wrote songs for myself to process my emotions. And the insane thing is that the more I went out and played those songs, the more people responded to them. The more I wrote what I felt, the more people would cry, and smile, and tell me that I got them through their difficult moments of confusion.

It took me a year and a half, but I finally woke up one day and made a decision to redefine success for myself. I thought of everything that I love about music, everything that I value, and what it would look like to live a life chasing those things. Madison Square Garden sounds amazing, but so do delicately lit theaters where I can reach out and hold someone’s hand if I want to. A Grammy would be incredible, but what good is recognition if I’ve received it for something I didn’t pour my whole heart into? And aren’t thousands of people who share their stories with you and play your music in their defining life moments so much better than millions of passive fans who stream you in silence? Your answer may be no, and that is completely and totally fine. But my own answer, personally, is yes.

It all comes down to this: your life is too short to be defined by others. If you live authentically to your happiness, success is inevitable.

So I’ll end this letter by introducing myself and my brand to you (a brand that is in fact being used to sell myself, but now in the most wonderful, self-fulfilling, and authentic way): Hi, my name is Marta. I love flowers and cats and drinking tea on rainy days. For the past couple of years, the most inspiring thing in my life has been love, and so I’m going to be releasing a whole lot of love songs. A lot of them are slow, all of them are emotional, and absolutely none of them are going to win me a Grammy. But they’re going to start so many conversations, and enable all of you to tell me your stories and process the complex idea of love with me. And the best part is, we all get to keep learning together.

Love, Marta

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Virginie