It's not easy being an independent musician today. Algorithms have made it harder than ever for us to get heard, no one expects to pay for music anymore, and AI is only worsening the situation. It's making a lot of us question what we're even doing and why. Are we just wasting time releasing songs no one will ever hear?
At first, it seemed like the popularity of platforms like Spotify would give independent musicians access to a larger audience, but in reality it's made things worse. An estimated 100,000 new songs get uploaded to streaming services like Spotify, Apple Music, and Soundcloud every day. While that might seem good for music fans, this unending flood of new music can make independent artists feel like we're wasting time putting our hearts into music that, statistically speaking, no one will ever see, let alone listen to or buy. In other words, music streaming platforms have created a poverty of abundance.
This new world challenges some of our assumptions about what success as an independent musician really means. Is it about selling a lot of albums, or is it about making meaningful connections?
My own feelings of alienation about my musical career started to lift in December of 2023. I saw a post by an experimental musician I follow about a new song they'd just uploaded to Bandcamp in response to “this week’s Disquiet Junto prompt.” I checked it out, and the piece sounded really interesting, but—disquiet what? The answer to that question has had a profound impact on my development as an artist and my relationship with the music I put into the world.
Disquiet Junto is a creative community that challenges independent musicians of all genres to take their sounds in new directions. The project offers inspiration, creative constraints, and peer feedback in a welcoming and eclectic online environment. Every Thursday morning since January 5, 2012, Disquiet curator Marc Weidenbaum sends an email with a brief personal update and a new creative prompt to a mailing list of hundreds of musicians around the world. Participants have until the following Monday at midnight their time to post a musical response to the prompt. Everyone is encouraged to link to their songs and share their reflections on the community discussion board.
The project sounded like it might help with that sense of disconnection I’d been feeling, so I decided to try it. I submitted my first song the following week. With such a short deadline to respond, it wasn't my best work, but it was kindly received. More importantly, though, I felt—listened to—in a way that I hadn't in a long time. I’ve been participating regularly ever since, and earlier this year I posted my 100th original Disquiet Junto track.
Marc delivers thoughtful prompts week after week, always challenging us to think about our music in new ways. For example, a recent prompt asked us to consider something we’re afraid that we do too much of, or rely on too much, and to "double down" on it. We were essentially asked to try embracing what we might otherwise consider a shortcoming in our musical abilities. As the community reflected on the striking quality of our responses that week, we realized that sometimes the thing we're afraid of people disliking about our music is actually what defines our unique sound.
The Disquiet Junto community brings together musicians from a staggering variety of genres, from classical to noise and everything in between. There are about two dozen regulars and a rotating contingent of other contributors that pop in and out. Participants come from all over the world, as far-ranging as Canada, Germany, Argentina, the Netherlands, and New Zealand. The eclectic personalities, varied skill levels, and unique backgrounds these musicians bring to the community is truly inspiring.
The interconnectedness of the community really stands out when the annual “asynchronous trio” prompts come around. In the first week of this special series, we’re asked to submit just one layer of a song—maybe a curious drum part, or a progression of mysterious synth chords. The only rule is to leave space for someone else to contribute. The following week, each participant picks a solo from the week before and improvises with it, turning the solo into a duet. In the final week, we each select a different duet and record a new part to complete the trio. The community puts great effort into ensuring that everyone's submissions get included at least once. What results is a lovely and unique interweaving of different musical cultures, perspectives, and histories.
Making a new song every week has been great for exercising my creativity and sharpening my technical skills. Five days isn't very long to create a piece of original music, especially while working, going to school, and juggling other life responsibilities. The quick turnaround time doesn't leave a lot of room for me to second-guess, overthink, or overproduce—all bad habits I often struggle with. I'm learning to trust my instincts, quickly decide between competing ideas, and accept that something can be "done enough" instead of endlessly editing and revising.
When our original songs are ready, we upload them to Soundcloud, where Marc maintains a rolling playlist of that week’s submissions. In the community forums, we post about how we interpreted the prompt, share some of the creative decisions we made, and reflect on what we learned along the way. We give each other encouragement, comment on what really stood out, and nerd out over influences, gear, or production techniques. I go back every day to catch up on the latest posts and listen to the other musicians' submissions. We’re an invested and appreciative audience for each other. These kinds of connections mean so much more to me than vanity metrics like “stars” or “likes.”
The community connection is what keeps me participating week after week. The regulars treat newcomers with patience and kindness. A casual remark one person makes might inspire someone else to share an incredible anecdote. If someone asks for specific feedback, maybe an opinion on a mix, there’s always another musician on the forum ready to offer help. We learn to recognize each other’s signature styles, so when a prompt inspires you to do something radically different than usual, you can depend on someone in the community noticing.
Disquiet Junto motivates me to continuously learn and grow. It challenges me to think more kindly and critically about my own work. It broadens my creative horizons by connecting me with brilliant musicians from around the world. It’s a place where my weird music always finds an appreciative audience. It’s where I’ve learned more about making music—and myself as a musician—than I ever did just putting out albums in isolation and hoping for the best. Working in such a welcoming, creative community has helped me rethink what success really means to me, and gets to the heart of why I keep making music. It's been an antidote to that lonely feeling of shouting into the void.
Connecting over our musical passions, and showing up for each other week after week, builds real connections between the members of the Disquiet Junto community. It’s an environment for thriving as musicians—together. In a world drowning in overabundance, finding your community can make all the difference for the interdependent musician.