The first time I wrote a meaningless song

I don’t have a lot of fans yet, but I have a few good listeners who believe in my music.

Vulnerability and storytelling, they tell me, are trademarks of my sound.

While those two are huge pillars of my creator brand, there’s one more part that didn’t get as much recognition, though it was there the whole time: comedy.

After releasing three albums that were mostly about coping with a devastating breakup, most of the songs that peaked were about narrating my side of the story. The funny songs got slept on.

I kept maturing as an artist. One day, I confided in my producer about having writer’s block—I wanted to write a meaningful song but I felt stuck. I was overthinking the lyrics. He told me something that would change the course of my songwriting forever—”Bro, your songs don’t have to be meaningful. You can just vibe.”

Just vibe? A whole writer? Abominable. Even my previous funny songs were very meaningful and thematic.

So… just vibe? The more I thought on it, the more relieving it felt. I could just enjoy myself? He explained to me that a lot of prolific songwriters I admired employed this approach in their toolkit at some point or the other. Being loose and not taking themselves too seriously in the moment.

Hmm… Just vibe. Okay. The first song that I did this fully was—and it’s evident in its name—About to ran. I shared it with a friend and long time supporter. She could not hide her disappointment.

“Taiwo… What is this?” And so began a long back and forth. I defended my work and eventually got her to understand it was a new approach to songwriting. She acquiesced. It was a rough moment for our tender relationship, but we made it through.

I recently wrote another nonsensical song. My wife heard it and was befuddled. “What is this?” This time, I had built enough art sense to laugh and not defend. I realized there’s a deep meaning for me, and for many others, in art that bypasses the cognitive mind. As nonsensical as it is, it has deep meaning to me. Or none at all for listeners. Or, and this is the best, they attribute their own meaning to it.

I told my producer recently that we must not spend time thinking about songs. We must only record them. Release them. Let them do what they do. That is stewardship. Artist maturity shows up as not being afraid to be judged—as being faithful to express that which was committed to your care.

I hope this inspires you to do the same with the visions before you.

To growth,
Taiwo.

PS: the meaningful songs are still around 🙂