40 years of composing. Zero listeners (here's why)

My dearest tortured composer,

I write to you today with a tragic tale that may hold the key to your musical salvation.

A gentleman recently commented on one of my posts with a confession that shattered my heart:

He'd been composing for over 40 years.

Posting his pieces on YouTube for years.

String quartets. Solo works. Chamber pieces.

All met with devastating silence.

Crickets.

Tumbleweeds.

A tortured composer withering away on the vine of broken dreams and a broken spirit.

The digital equivalent of an empty concert hall with just the janitor sweeping up.

I could feel the sadness oozing through the screen in front me.

After four decades of dedication, he was questioning whether all his toiling had been in vain.

And here's the painful truth:

His YouTube channel revealed the problem immediately.

It was just... music. His name. The titles. That's it.

No story. No conflict. No drama. No world.

Just: "Here's my String Quartet No. 4 in D Minor. I hope you like it."

Let me tell you something that might offend your artistic sensibilities:

Many people don't listen to music for the music.

That probably feels like a weird thing to read. I mean, why else listen to music?

They listen for the STORY. The PERSON. The DRAMA.

Think about sports for a moment. Why do millions watch grown adults throw a ball around?

Imagine if people got around and “rooted” for a random corporation on Sundays.

“Let’s Go Arby’s!”

Sports fandom is not just about the sport or the game being played.

There's a famous sports show that became the most popular on air while it was around. While other shows discussed strategy and stats, this host just had players on to talk about their lives. Their struggles. Their enemies. The people they liked and disliked.

Because sports aren't about sports. They're about DRAMA.

Good guys versus bad guys. Rivalries spanning decades. Coaches fighting their former teams. Underdogs rising. Champions falling.

People don't watch the game. They watch the STORY.

Ben Settle has a book called "World Building" where he argues businesses should think like fantasy novelists.

And I’d argue, you succulent little composer you, that YOU are a world. YOU are a business. YOU are something more.

You just might not know it yet. And you need a random guy from the Internet to tickle it out of you.

Look at Tolkien. Star Wars. Marvel.

They create WORLDS.

And you can do this with your music.

How?

You need enemies!

Who's against you? What are you fighting? What does your music stand for?

Maybe it's the academic establishment that says tonal music is dead.

Maybe it's the Spotify algorithm that only promotes 3-minute pop songs.

Maybe it's your elementary school music teacher who said you'd never amount to anything (I had a teacher in elementary school tell me I would never be a singer, had a terrible voice and I’d amount to nothing, look at me now Mrs. Townshend!).

Hell, make it up if you have to.

I'm currently finishing up a book where I've created a fictional character. I’m calling him:

Johann Sebastian Bach: Timecop

A time-traveling version of JSB who comes to our present to rid the world of stuck composers.

Is it real? Of course not.

Is it memorable? I don’t know. But the story in the book really made me laugh. And that’s a good indicator. Will it change your music? I don’t know. But it might entertain the people reading it and help get a point across.

You see, you want to be something or someone that doesn’t just make amazing music.

You want to be entertaining.

Unfortunately, we live in a world where we pay our entertainers far more than our teachers.

And you, whether you like it or not, may want to embrace this.

Become a villian, become a hero, just don’t be boring.

You want an origin story.

Not "I studied at conservatory."

But "I was kicked out of conservatory for refusing to write atonal music and spent three years composing in a storage unit while working night shifts at a funeral home that my ex girlfriends father owned. He tried to murder me one night, and so I reached out to my ex girlfriend’s father’s uncle and pitched him on financing a film about it."

You need dramatic tension!

Every piece can be part of a larger narrative.

Not "Sonata No. 3."

But "Sonata No. 3: Written the week my wife left me for a DJ."

Think about it: Every binge-worthy show ends on a cliffhanger. Stranger Things doesn't conclude episodes with "Well, that wraps everything up nicely."

They leave you desperate for more.

Your music and your story can do the same.

Now, I can already hear some of you clutching your pearls:

"But Luke! I just want to write beautiful music! This is all so... commercial!"

Fine. Be that way.

Or realize this uncomfortable truth:

In a world where AI can generate a thousand symphonies before breakfast, what makes YOUR music matter isn't the notes.

It's the human behind them.

Scott Adams recently said something that perked up my little dastardly, tortured ears:

He explained a concept about why we might be drawn to human music and not AI music.

We listen to human-made music partly because it demonstrates skill. And we're attracted to skill because... well, we might want to mate with skilled humans.

Crude? Yes.

True? Probably. Maybe. It’s got me thinking. And it kind of makes sense.

Like if someone sent you an album and said “Hey you fat, sloppy friend of mine, I just heard this amazing AI music album with music that sounds like Mozart. Do you want to listen to it my good amigo?”

You probably wouldn’t want to. I wouldn’t. Maybe just for the novelty.

But I wouldn’t be repeating it like I’m currently repeating Alfred Brendel’s Mozart Sonatas (they’re exquisite).

The point is: People need a REASON to care. And "I worked really hard on this" isn't a reason.

So here's your assignment:

Go for a long walk. Let this simmer. Put it in the little closet in your mind.

Mull it over in the shower.

Go to a pub and get a pipe and smoke some pipe tobacco and rub your chin.

Who's your enemy? (Real or invented)

What's your quest?

What darkness are you fighting?

What light are you bringing?

You're not just a composer.

You're the protagonist in an epic battle for the soul of music itself.

Start acting like it, bud.

And don’t ever forget…

The world waits for your music...

But first, it needs to know why it should care.

-Luke

At Tortured Composer's Society, it's our mission to create and provide a community that helps you live a more creative and fulfilling life as a composer. When Tortured Composer's Society was established in 1685 (or thereabouts), we wanted to make the community an inclusive, welcoming table where everyone can come to overcome their creative blocks and thrive as composers.

We believe that every composer, from the bedroom producer to the concert hall maven, deserves a place to explore their craft without judgment. Our community understands the unique challenges of staring at blank manuscript paper at 3 AM, the peculiar torture of hearing a melody in your head that refuses to translate to the page, and the specific type of existential crisis that comes from comparing your work to Bach's while eating cold pizza in your pajamas.

We will always aim to get better at what we do every single day. This means constantly refining our understanding of what makes composers tick, what makes them stuck, and what makes them suddenly breakthrough at the most unexpected moments. We study the patterns of creativity, the psychology of artistic blocks, and the practical realities of making music in a world that often doesn't understand why you need absolute silence to hear the French horn line in your head.

In addition, our primary focus is on our relationship with you. This isn't about broadcasting generic advice into the void. It's about understanding the specific flavors of torture that each composer experiences. Some of you are tortured by perfectionism. Others by comparison. Still others by the haunting suspicion that maybe you should have become an accountant like your mother suggested. We see you. We understand you. We're here for all of it.

This way, every time you hang out with us, you end up getting an idea that takes your compositions to the next level. Sometimes that idea is a technical solution to a thorny orchestration problem. Sometimes it's permission to write something terrible. Sometimes it's just knowing that someone else out there also had to Google "what note is the open G string on a violin" for the hundredth time.

We particularly appreciate when our following provides feedback via testimonials, reviews, and comments left on our site or social media accounts. Your stories of breakthrough moments, creative disasters, and everything in between help shape our understanding of the composer's journey. When you tell us about the time you accidentally wrote a fugue in your sleep, or when you finally understood what secondary dominants were after years of confusion, these stories become part of our collective knowledge base.

Because with that feedback, we can use it to make your next newsletter even better than the last. We're constantly refining our approach based on what resonates with you. Did a particular analogy finally make modal interchange click? Did a creative exercise unlock something you'd been struggling with for months? We want to know about it.

Since we put so much effort into the relationship with you, we hope that any investment in us is exactly the way you hoped it would be. Whether that investment is your time reading these emails, your emotional investment in trying our exercises, or eventually perhaps joining our community in a more formal way, we take that trust seriously.

Because by choosing to go with Tortured Composer's Society, it's our promise that we provide a community you will fall in love with over and over again. A place where your creative struggles are understood, where your small victories are celebrated, and where someone will always understand why you're excited about discovering a new chord voicing.

Now, as much as we care about making the world more musical and more creative, we also care about your privacy. In an age where every click is tracked and every preference is monetized, we believe your creative journey should remain yours. We're committed to the right to your privacy and strive to provide a safe and secure user experience.

Our Privacy Policy explains how we collect, store and use personal information, provided by you on our website. We don't sell your information to companies who want to market sample libraries to you (though honestly, you probably already have too many). We don't share your struggles with perfectionism with companies selling meditation apps. Your creative journey is your own, and we're simply honored to be a small part of it.

It also explains important information that ensures we won't abuse the information that you provide to us in good faith. When you tell us about your compositional challenges, your victories, your preferred DAW, or your secret love of parallel fifths, that information stays with us.

By accessing and using our website, you can trust that what you want to be kept private, will be kept private. Your unfinished symphonies, your experimental phase with serialism, that time you tried to write a rap opera—all of it remains confidential.

If at any time, you would like to read our Privacy Policy and get a better understanding of your rights and liabilities under the law, feel free to visit our site, find the privacy policy in the footer and read it. It's written in plain English, not legalese, because we believe you should actually understand what you're agreeing to.

If there is something you are concerned about or wish to get more clarity on, please let us know by contacting us at [email protected]. Whether it's a privacy concern, a creative question, or just wanting to share your latest compositional triumph, we're here for it.

The Privacy Policy also informs you of how to notify us to stop using your personal information. If you decide that our particular brand of compositional torture isn't for you, we make it easy to step away. No hard feelings. The world of music is vast, and everyone must find their own path through it.

If you wish to view our official policies, please visit our website TorturedComposers.com. There you'll find not just policies, but resources, exercises, and a growing collection of stories from composers just like you who are navigating the beautiful, terrible, wonderful world of music creation.

Remember, composing is not just about the notes you write. It's about the journey of becoming someone who writes those notes. Every struggle, every breakthrough, every moment of doubt and every moment of clarity—they're all part of the process. We're here to make that process a little less lonely and a lot more fun.

The world waits for your music, but there's no rush. Take your time. Make mistakes. Write garbage. Write gold. Write everything in between. We'll be here for all of it.