Why Great Musicians Listen Like Writers Read
Most musicians think listening to music counts as practice.
It doesn’t.
At least, not in the way that actually makes you better.
Writers don’t read novels just to feel something. They read to understand why something works.
They notice:
Why the opening pulls them in
Why a sentence lands harder than expected
Why tension rises here instead of there
Musicians, on the other hand, press play...and stop at vibes.
That’s the gap.
That’s the part of my own process I’ve been looking into for the past week.
I’m starting to listen to music more actively as a result.
Especially to music in the genre I’d like to explore.
So how did I come across this gap?
Why Writers Improve Faster Than Musicians (At First)
Writers are trained--almost accidentally--to read analytically.
They ask questions while reading:
Why did this paragraph change the pace?
Why did this metaphor clarify instead of confuse?
Why does this chapter end here?
Musicians often don’t do the equivalent.
They listen emotionally, passively, continuously. Playlists. Algorithms. Background noise.
And then they wonder why their songs feel:
Unfocused
Forgettable
Emotionally vague
Same input.
Different mindset.
Passive Listening vs. Analytical Listening
Here’s the uncomfortable truth:
Enjoyment and improvement are not the same activity.
Passive listening is effortless. Analytical listening requires friction.
Passive listening says:
“I like this.”
Analytical listening asks:
“Why does this work--and could I recreate that effect?”
Passive listening consumes. Analytical listening trains.
If you’re only listening passively, you’re not practicing. You’re entertaining yourself.
What Analytical Listening Actually Looks Like
This isn’t about becoming robotic or joyless. It’s about directing your attention.
Analytical listening means listening in layers.
One pass. One focus.
Structure
Where does the song introduce tension? Where does it release it?
Melody
What repeats? What changes? Why does the hook feel inevitable?
Lyrics
Are they specific or abstract? Conversational or poetic? Why?
Production
What’s missing? Where is silence doing the work?
Emotion
When does it hit--not just that it hits.
You’re not judging.
You’re observing.
You’re learning the language the song is speaking in.
The Identity Shift Most Musicians Avoid
Here’s the paradox most creatives resist:
The more analytically you listen, the more emotionally free you become when you create.
Structure doesn’t kill feeling. Structure protects it.
Amateurs listen to be inspired. Professionals listen to recognize patterns.
Masters do both--consciously.
If you can’t explain why a song works, you can’t reliably make one that does.
That’s not talent.
That’s awareness.
This Isn’t Just About Music
This skill transfers.
Writers.
Filmmakers.
Designers.
Programmers.
All of them are doing the same thing:
Recognizing patterns under emotional pressure.
Analytical listening sharpens:
Taste
Restraint
Intention
It teaches you when to add--and when to stop.
A Simple Challenge
Pick one song.
Not five.
Not a playlist.
One.
Listen to it five times.
Each time, focus on only one layer.
Don’t create yet.
Don’t judge yourself.
Just notice.
Because if writers learned by feeling books instead of studying them, there would be no great novels.
Music is no different.
Listening is practice. You’ve just been doing it wrong.
Very interesting article. Although my mom tried her best to make me a musician when I was young (first violin lessons, then recorder, then clarinet, then piano), that never made me a musician (though I did discover the guitar on my own and enjoy my mediocre skill at it). No, I’m a writer, and so I was very interested in this comparaison and I’d love to hear some musicians’ thoughts on what Idris wrote here.
Even though this is about music, it mapped perfectly onto how I look at art. I’m great at feeling something in a piece, but I don’t always stop to ask how it’s doing that. Like where the tension lives, what’s being held back, what’s doing the heavy lifting. Thinking this way feels less like overthinking and more like sharpening my eye. Thank you Idris Elijah for the reminder that attention itself is a form of practice!