An illustrated guide to getting started in music by Konbini2004
12/5
If I could restart everything in 2026 with the knowledge I’ve gathered the long and hard way (nearly seven years in music and thirteen in fine art) I wouldn’t spend a minute trying to be strategic or “mysterious.” I’d begin with more grit, sincerity, friction, and worldbuilding. I’d stop minimising myself. I’d stop sanding down my edges. I’d stop performing the version of me I thought would be easier for others to digest. I’d be louder, bolder, more annoying, more unmistakably me. The underground rewards clarity and courage far more than neutrality, and audiences recognise the real thing instantly. This isn’t just advice for musicians; anyone navigating a creative path (-or even life itself!) can learn something from how artists survive and define themselves.
Lead with sincerity, even when it’s unpopular. Don’t play it too safe.
People don’t want a polished mask; they want the whole organism, warts and all. If I were starting again, I’d show my real face sooner, ditch efforts at “relatability” and stop playing it safe or trying to fit in. Early in my music career I was in active psychosis, and while I don’t romanticise it, I can acknowledge the uninhibited self-belief that came with it. Ironically, the first step to being influential is refusing to care what anyone outside of your purpose thinks. Waiting to feel “ready” is a trap. Nobody ever feels ready. You have to trust your intuition, respectfully raise hell, and be willing to stand firmly when it matters and make amends when you’ve misstepped. Art doesn’t require you to be universally liked, just consistent, self-led, and true to your own character. Don’t water yourself down, if anything give them a fully lethal dose of you at your most annoying, to somebody that’s you at your most iconic. There may come a day where you regret not making more mistakes. Be brave, be bold, we’re all going to die one day so go hard or go home.
Be candid and stop giving a sh*t.
It took me years to understand how effective unscripted videos are. Looking directly into the lens as if it were a friend’s eye contact you’re holding. No script, no performance, just building a level of familiarity with the same group of fans has proven to be the most effective method of audience building for me. A TikTok mutual once told me to make “useless content” and it genuinely changed how I view online presence. Not every post has to be art; think of online content as the polite chitchat at a gallery opening. It’s the doorway into your world, not the work itself.
Controversy can be clarifying so long as you are being sincere and true to your values. Minimising yourself to stay neutral only makes you forgettable. Be assertive when you need to be and the wrong people will fall away.
If I were starting in 2026, I’d speak plainly from the beginning. Assertiveness doesn’t have to be aggressive; it’s essential for maintaining boundaries. It's also a natural filter: aligned people stay, insecure people go, opportunists lose interest, and time-wasters reveal themselves.
In music whether the underground, industry or locally professionalism still matters. Reputations travel faster than releases. You can uphold your standards while maintaining courtesy and leaving behind a clean legacy. It’s equally important to observe how others show up for you. If you’re around people who can’t appreciate you it’s “thank you, next” until you get there. People who don’t believe in themselves will have a hard time believing in you, recognise that and keep it pushing!
Ask anyway, even when the answer is worse than no.
People love to say “the worst they can say is no,” but in creative communities the worst is often more surreal: condescension disguised as feedback, strange power games, jealousy, projection, or complete disregard for your humanity. Best-case scenario, you gain a little. Worst-case scenario, you deal with a months-long headache. It's so important that you know what you will and won’t accept for yourself before you agree to working with others. That being said, ask anyway even when the answer can be worse than no. A few flies shouldn’t ruin your picnic. One sincere yes will do more for you than ten lukewarm responses. If you can’t find the support you want, build it; if you can’t find a stage, hire one; if you don’t fit the scene, tell everyone you’re building a cult. People love joining cults!
Every rejection is a lesson that can help to codify your artistry and forge new pathways you could’ve perhaps never anticipated had you not tried and decided to stay comfortable.
If you don’t fit in with the crowd it’s a sign you belong on the stage. Everyone is going to try to put you in a box and it’s vital that you don’t let them.
Imitation is the best homage that mediocrity may pay to greatness.
The underground and mainstream alike recycles aesthetics faster than it honours origins. People romanticise the idea of struggle while refusing to acknowledge the economic and cultural realities behind it. Cardi B’s $0 marketing wasn’t a quirky path to virality-it was (and is) real life for disadvantaged and disenfranchised artists. Scenes get gentrified and cosplayed; styles lose context; people chase the flavour without respecting the recipe. If I were starting again, I’d stay rooted in my art and ruthlessly antagonise the meek and bland trend-followers. Rooted artists outlast trend chasers every time.
Forget “burnout”.
Burnout is often, in my opinion a misdiagnosis. Most of the time, the problem is energy regulation, emotional honesty, and poor boundaries both with yourself and others. Every artist has a different fuel source, and discovering yours requires brutal self-transparency. Are you “resting,” or are you numbing? Are you procrastinating, or are you regulating? I know artists who need to game before they create- for them it’s an essential part of their focus cycle, not avoidance. I’ll be straight up that my own motivator is pettiness: outperforming doubters keeps me productive. I’ve accepted that. Being delusionally noble about your motivations helps no one; being honest with yourself does.
Boundaries are central to sustainable creativity. This industry is full of insecure people who will hammer down anyone who stands out, so you must protect your inner world and build an external one that aligns with your values. Don’t assume people who share your aesthetic or subculture are automatically safe collaborators; similarity often breeds comparison, and comparison often breeds contempt. Some of your strongest artistic connections will come from people who don’t resemble you at all. Many of my strongest music connections are with people who aren’t creatives at all. I joke about my music being “farm-to-table” because I don’t rely on artists or producers to co-sign me. I go directly to regular people. Musicians have a unique advantage over other types of creatives: nearly everyone likes music, consumes it every day and nearly everyone listens across genres. Being a musician surrounded exclusively by other musicians is hellish; we are scraping crumbs from each other’s mouths. That’s why it’s crucial to know how to push your work out to consumers. Easier said than done, but recognising the problem is step one.
Learn whether you work like a horticulture gardener: hands-on, tending constantly out of a love to nurture discipline and technique, or like a permaculture designer, creating systems that sustain themselves organically so that something may naturally emerge. Most people aren’t fully one or the other; the key is knowing whether you work better proactively or reactively and learning how to master both modes. David Lynch articulated this beautifully; “The more you understand yourself, the more silence there is, the healthier you are and the more powerful your work becomes”.
Live orderly so you can create disorderly.
Gustave Flaubert wrote, “Be regular and orderly in your life, so that you may be violent and original in your work.” It’s one of the most underrated truths in creative practice.
Stability in your physical and emotional environment gives your work the freedom to erupt, mutate, and transcend. When your daily life has some structure, your imagination gains permission to go off the rails in productive, exhilarating ways. You don’t necessarily need rigid discipline, just a handful of repeatable patterns that reliably ignite momentum. You need a routine, even if it’s messy. Even if you think you’re a piece of sh*t who can’t follow a routine, you still need something grounding. For some people this looks like a strict schedule; for others, it’s a soft contract to do the things that keep you feeling like yourself. If you absolutely can’t stand routine, make a vague list of goals. Orientation alone can create momentum.
Book your own shows. Stop waiting.
Discovery is a myth. If I were starting now, I’d immediately begin booking my own shows - small venues, art galleries, bars, DIY spaces, university events, care homes, community centres. Once you book one, you suddenly have the credibility to book three more. A year ago I would’ve laughed at the idea of performing at a care home, I thought “why?”. After seeing the viral Boythrob carehome performance I felt like an idiot for not thinking of such a thing first. Every show has potential reels or tiktok content. Every show is a chance to be seen and heard by a new potential lifelong fan. Opportunity snowballs. Most artists underestimate how accessible live performance really is. A clean email, a clear pitch, and the willingness to initiate will take you further than any fantasy of being “discovered.” Generally speaking, you have to keep showing up where they don’t want you-like a pigeon, and like a pigeon they chase you off, maybe kick you a little, but eventually someone coughs up some food, or gets pooped on.
Beware the Chronic Builder Trap. Avoid Busywork.
A chronic builder is someone who lives indefinitely in “artist development.” They optimise endlessly, refine endlessly, rewrite endlessly but never emerge. It feels protective and productive, but it becomes a gilded cage. If this is you, set deadlines, release imperfect work, and let people witness your evolution. For the longest time this has been me, recognising it has been such a breath of fresh air in refining my artistic practices.
Conclusion: If I were starting as an artist in 2026, I wouldn’t shrink. I wouldn’t wait for permission or inclusion. I wouldn’t chase trends, people or subgenres. I’d build something sincere, rooted, vivid, polished, complete and unmistakably mine from the beginning. The industry worships sameness; audiences crave authenticity. Ultimately if you want to be seen you have to be seen.
Written By Konbini2004: www.konbini2004.com/