The Reality of a Music Career (Calm Seas Don’t Make Good Sailors)

By Joel Ivey/ collect.assembly

I’ll say it! The music world is not what we were sold.

People still talk like there’s this machine somewhere; a label, a manager, a “guy in the industry” who’s going to hear you, understand you, invest in you, and carry you to the top because you’re talented and “meant for this.”

That world is gone.

I’m convinced it never really existed the way people imagine it. We just hear the highlight reels. We hear, “This artist blew up overnight,” or, “They were broke for eight years and almost quit twice, then one thing finally hit and everyone called it destiny.” The stories get told like miracles.

What it actually looks like:

Music is a business.

You’re making a product (songs, shows, moments, connection), and you’re trying to get that product to people who want it, at a quality that matters, in a way they can actually receive.

That means infrastructure.

Not vibes. Not dreams. Not fairy dust, but infrastructure.

• Who records the songs?

• Who mixes, masters, and gets them ready for release?

• Who handles distribution, uploads, metadata, ISRCs, etc.?

• Who answers the emails?

• Who designs the merch and gets it printed and ships it without losing money?

• Who handles live production, ticketing, gear, travel?

• Who tells people that any of this is even happening?

If you don’t build that machine, there is no way to deliver your product. There’s just a hobby and an Instagram account that says “big things coming.”

This is the part people don’t romanticize because it’s not mystical. It’s logistics.

“Going viral” won’t save you.

I’ve had a viral moment in one of my other businesses. I’ve seen what happens when something just catches and blows up while you’re sleeping.

Here’s the truth about viral:

1. You cannot control it.

2. You cannot repeat it on command.

3. You absolutely cannot build your life plan around it.

If you get a viral spike and you don’t already have structure in place or a way to capture people, serve them, and keep them, that spike fades and you’re left with nothing but the memory of a comment section that called you a legend for 48 hours. That attention doesn’t mean you have a career. It means you had a moment.

So keep creating. Stay consistent. Put out real work, at real quality, with real intention. But don’t sit there waiting for lightning and pretending that’s a strategy. Lightning is not a business model. And if that viral moment comes count it as a blessing and use it to push forward to the best of your ability, but don’t get discouraged if it doesn’t provide everything you had hoped.

“Should I move to Nashville or just do it from home?”

I’ve watched people do both.

I’ve seen people pack up and move to Nashville, write every day, shake hands, play writers rounds, and basically treat it like trade school while gaining a network. I’ve seen people stay in their hometown and quietly build something from a spare bedroom and a cheap interface. Both can work. But the most important part is to gain that network by working hard and showing your worth to people. Do them favours and help them with their issues. The greatest thing about the industry today is being able to connect through ways we couldn’t have before. The world is small, we can connect online and run remote recording sessions, meetings, etc. There’s no excuse to not be connecting with a great network of people.

Here’s what I’ve never seen:

I’ve never seen someone “make it” without a massive amount of upfront risk, sacrifice, time, and money. I don’t mean “spent a couple bucks on a microphone.”

I mean: they invested like it was a real startup. (You can tell mom and dad it’s gonna be $100,000+.)

Because that’s what this is.

You’re not working in guarantees — you’re working in forecasts.

People who build businesses have to be a little crazy. You’re betting on something that doesn’t exist yet. As a business owner you’re trading time, money, reputation, sleep, sanity, and sometimes relationships… for a possibility. You’re looking at who you are, and what you think you can become, and you’re making decisions today based on a future that hasn’t happened yet. That sounds dramatic, but it’s literally how every independent artist operates.

It’s how collect.assembly operates.

We look at what we’ve learned from shows, from listeners, from radio, from merch tables, from conversations after soundcheck, and we ask:

“Given what we know right now… what can we build next that will matter to people?”

That’s forecasting. That’s the job.

“Is it worth it though?”

I get asked that question all the time. So let’s put it to bed right now. I’m guessing that if you’re even still reading this, you’re a certain type of person.

People like us are… not normal.

We don’t get peace from the safe option. We don’t thrive in comfort. We don’t feel alive playing it small. I’ve been called stubborn, reckless, obsessed, whatever word you want. I’ve heard all of them. None of that bothers me because I see it as a trait that sets us apart to be able to accomplish something. You can try but you’ll never be able to take that away from me.

Calm seas don’t make good sailors.

I don’t want calm seas. I want to learn how to drive this thing through a storm and bring people with me. I want to build something that actually serves people in real moments of their lives. So if you’re looking for permission to chase this, I can’t give you “it’s easy” because it’s not. I can’t give you “someone will discover you” because they probably won’t.

But I can tell you this:

If you’re going to do it, then do it like it’s real.

Build the infrastructure. Treat your music like a product you are responsible to deliver with care. Learn enough business to not get eaten. Stay consistent long after it stops being exciting. And don’t romanticize the miracle you think is coming. Build the vessel that can survive the storm.