the TrueFans AMP— Magazine Issue 141

Helping Music Artists build real careers
—without selling their soul.

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“I’ve always believed that if you tell the truth in a song, it will last longer than anything else you can do.”
— Don Schlitz

In This Issue... 19 pages (about 28ish minutes to read) You'll Get... 

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• Recommends—The Creative Act: A Way of Being. A book by Rick Rubin 

• Your BIZ — Live Nation, Ticketmaster… and the Future That’s Trying to Happen

• Greatest Music Artist of All Time— Don Schlitz: The Songwriter Who Taught the World When to Hold ’Em... and When to Run

• in partnership with MusicRadar

• TrueFans Feature— Rick Rubin on... Rick Rubin

• P.S. from PS — Quoth the Raven: Nevermore

Here’s the playlist

Before the awards, the platinum records, and the legendary artists he’s worked with, Rick Rubin was known for something unusual in the studio: he listened. Deeply. Quietly. Without trying to control the music.

In The Creative Act: A Way of Being, Rubin opens the door to the philosophy behind that listening— and offers artists one of the most thoughtful guides to creativity ever written.

• Recommends— The Creative Act: A Way of Being. A book by Rick Rubin
(originally published in the TrueFans AMP™ 137)

Before he was a legend, Rick Rubin was a kid in a dorm room with a four-track recorder and an instinct for sound that didn’t follow the rules.

Decades later, that instinct helped shape the sound of artists as different as Johnny Cash, Beastie Boys, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Adele, Jay-Z, and Tom Petty.

Rubin became one of the most successful music producers in history.

Barefoot. Bearded. Often sitting quietly on a couch while the artists do the work.

Which tells you something about his philosophy.

Now he’s put that philosophy into a remarkable book: The Creative Act: A Way of Being.

And for any Music Artist trying to build a life in music, it’s one of the most unusual— and valuable— books you can read.

A Book About Creativity… Not Music
If you’re expecting a traditional music-business book— how to write hits, produce records, or build a career— this isn’t it.

Rubin almost never talks about the music industry.
Instead, he writes about creativity itself.
Where ideas come from.
How artists recognize them.
And how to stay open to them.

In Rubin’s worldview, creativity isn’t something you “do.”
It’s something you participate in.

He sees the artist less as a creator and more as a receiver of signals— someone tuned to notice ideas, emotions, sounds, and possibilities that are already moving through the world.

Your job isn’t to force inspiration.
Your job is to notice it.

The Power of Listening
One of Rubin’s most powerful ideas is about listening.
Real listening. Not just hearing sounds— but being completely present to what’s happening in the moment.

For musicians, this has enormous implications.

Listening:
• to the music
• to the silence
• to the band
• to the room
• to the audience
• and to your own intuition

Rubin believes the best artists develop a kind of creative awareness.
They’re open enough to notice what wants to happen next.

That’s often why Rubin’s productions feel so natural.

He doesn’t force the music.
He creates the conditions where the music can appear.

Great Art Comes From Attention
One theme runs through the entire book:

Attention is the artist’s greatest tool.

Not gear.
Not marketing.
Not algorithms.
Attention.

Rubin argues that artists who cultivate attention— paying close, curious notice to life, sound, and emotion— naturally create more interesting work.
Because they’re observing things other people miss.

He writes that creativity isn’t rare. But attention is. And artists who protect their attention— against noise, distraction, and the endless scroll— have a huge advantage.

Permission to Be an Artist
Perhaps the most refreshing part of the book is its tone. Rubin never lectures. He encourages.

He reminds artists that:
• there is no single path
• there are no universal rules
• and the process is always personal

You don’t have to sound like anyone else.
You don’t have to follow trends.
You don’t have to fit the industry.
You just have to make the work that feels true to you.

Coming from someone whose productions have sold hundreds of millions of records, that message carries real weight.

A Different Kind of Music Book
Structurally, The Creative Act is also unusual. It isn’t a linear narrative. It’s a collection of short reflections— almost like creative meditations. Each chapter is only a page or two.

Which means you can open the book anywhere and immediately find something worth thinking about.

Many artists read it a few pages at a time.
Then go back to the studio.

The TrueFans Takeaway
Rubin’s book quietly reinforces something independent artists sometimes forget:
Great music doesn’t start with marketing. It starts with attention, curiosity, and honesty.
The deeper you go into the creative process…
The more likely you are to create work that truly connects.
And connection— the real emotional kind— is exactly what builds True Fans.

In a world obsessed with metrics, Rubin’s message is almost radical:

Make something real.
And the right people will feel it.

Recommended for:
Songwriters, producers, musicians, and any artist who wants to reconnect with the deeper reasons they create.

If you read only one creativity book this year, make it this one.
Not because it teaches formulas.
But because it reminds you what art is actually about.
And that reminder alone can change the way you make music.

A lot of noise around this one.
Headlines. Opinions. Predictions.
And somewhere in there… a question most Music Artists are quietly asking:What does this actually mean for me?

• Your BIZ — Live Nation, Ticketmaster… and the Future That’s Trying to Happen

The U.S. government doesn’t bring a court case like this lightly. When it does, it’s not about a moment— it’s about a pattern. A system. And the belief that system may be limiting competition in a way that affects everyone downstream, including Music Artists.

At the center of it is Live Nation Entertainment— a company that doesn’t just promote shows or sell tickets, but sits across the entire live music pipeline. Promoter, ticketing platform, venue operator, artist services. That kind of vertical integration is efficient. It’s also very powerful.

The government’s argument is straightforward: when one company controls too many parts of the system, it can shape outcomes. 
Which venues get access. 
Which tours get priority. 

How tickets are priced and distributed. 
And ultimately, how much of that revenue makes its way back to the artist.

That’s the legal frame.

But Music Artists don’t live in legal frames. 
They live in real-world outcomes.

And the outcomes, for a long time, have felt tight.

Margins squeezed. Options limited. Fans frustrated before they even get through checkout. You don’t need a law degree to feel that.

What’s changed now is visibility. 
This isn’t an industry-insider conversation anymore— it’s public. And when something becomes public, it starts to move.

Artists are paying closer attention.
Fans are paying closer attention.
And when attention shifts, markets don’t stay still.

So let’s talk about what could happen— not in legal terms, but in real-world terms.

If the government prevails, the remedies could range from structural changes— breaking apart parts of the business— to behavioral ones, like limiting exclusive deals or forcing more openness in ticketing and venue access. There could be increased transparency around pricing and fees.

None of that is instant. None of it is clean.

These cases stretch out. Appeals follow. Adjustments get negotiated. And while all of that is happening, the business keeps moving underneath it.

Which brings us to the more useful question:

Not “What will the court decide?”
But “What does this unlock?”

Because even small cracks in a system like this can create movement.

More independent venues gaining leverage. Smaller promoters finding space again. New ticketing platforms getting another shot— this time with more attention and a more receptive market.

We’ve seen challengers before. Most didn’t stick.
But timing matters. 

And right now, there’s pressure— from government, from artists, and from fans.

There’s also a quieter layer here that deserves attention: touring economics.

For many artists— especially those not at the very top— touring has become harder to sustain. Costs are up. Margins are thin. Risk is higher. And when access to venues and ticketing is concentrated, flexibility goes down.

That’s not just frustrating. It shapes careers.

Which is why this case matters, regardless of how it ultimately resolves. It challenges the structure that’s been shaping those realities.

But here’s where it’s easy to get this wrong.

Even if meaningful changes come, they don’t replace the need for Music Artists to build their own foundation.

So… What’s a TrueFans Music Artist to do? 

Don’t wait.
Don’t wait for the courts to sort this out. 
Don’t wait for the industry to rebalance. 

That’s not strategy— that’s hope dressed up as patience.

Build what you can control.
Your audience. Your list. Your direct connection to the people who care about your music. Not rented attention— owned relationship.

Because here’s the part that doesn’t change: 

If your career depends entirely on systems you don’t control, you don’t have leverage. You have their  permission.

And that permission can change.

Pay attention— but don’t get distracted.
Yes, this case could open doors. More venue options. Better deal terms. New ticketing pathways. All useful.

But none of it does the work for you. It amplifies what you’ve already built.

There’s another shift happening here— on the fan side.
Fans are frustrated. They feel it every time they try to buy a ticket— the fees, the pricing, the experience. They may not know the legal arguments, but they know something feels broken.

That creates an opening.

For artists willing to rethink how they engage.

Smaller shows. Direct offers. Fan-first access. Experiences that feel human again. Not instead of the big system— but not dependent on it either.

And finally…
Play the long game.
Better yet, play the long tail game.
Because systems change. They always do. The question is whether you’ve built something that survives those changes.

So whether Live Nation Entertainment stays intact, gets restricted, or eventually gets broken apart…
The artists who win will look very familiar.
The ones who didn’t wait. 
The ones who built direct paths. 
The ones who treated fans like people— not transactions.

This case won’t save Music Artists.
But it might make something we keep saying undeniable:

The closer you are to your fans…
The stronger your career becomes. 

• in partnership with… MusicRadar

Just a few days ago, a songwriter who helped define what a “timeless song” sounds like quietly took his final bow. You may not know his name. You absolutely know his work.

• Greatest Music Artist of All Time— Don Schlitz: The Songwriter Who Taught the World When to Hold ’Em... and When to Run

There are songs that hit.
There are songs that stick.
And then there are songs that become part of how people think about life itself.

The Gambler is one of those songs.

And the man who wrote it— Don Schlitz— was one of the rare writers who understood something most never quite grasp:

A great song doesn’t just sound good.
It says something true enough to live by.

Schlitz was just 23 years old when he wrote The Gambler.
Twenty-three.
Let that land for a second.

Not after decades of wisdom.
Not after a lifetime of scars.
But early— young— when instinct and imagination were doing most of the work.

The story is simple on the surface: a late-night train ride, a conversation with a gambler, a handful of life lessons wrapped in metaphor.
But simple isn’t easy.
Simple is hard.
And simple… lasts.

It took Kenny Rogers to bring The Gambler into the world in a way that made it unforgettable. Rogers didn’t just sing the song. He lived inside it.

“Don gave me a song that people didn’t just hear— they lived with it.” 
— Kenny Rogers

And live with it they did. The Gambler became a No. 1 hit. A crossover success. A cultural touchstone. TV movies. Decades of airplay. A permanent place in the culture.

But here’s what separates Don Schlitz from the pack.
That wasn’t the peak.
That was the doorway.

A Writer’s Writer.
Schlitz was one of Nashville’s great craftsmen. The kind of Songwriter other Songwriters study— line by line.

He penned or co-penned songs like:
Forever and Ever, Amen— made famous by Randy Travis
When You Say Nothing at All— recorded by Keith Whitley and later Alison Krauss
On the Other Hand— another cornerstone of the Randy Travis catalog

These aren’t just hits.
They’re standards.
Songs that keep getting recorded.
Keep getting sung.
Keep getting felt.

“Don Schlitz wrote songs that felt like they’d always been there.” 
— Randy Travis

Here’s what made him different.
He didn’t chase clever.
He chased clear.

He wrote songs that felt like conversations— like someone sitting across from you, telling you something you needed to hear.
No flash.
No noise.
Just truth, wrapped in melody.

“He had a way of saying something simple that hit you right between the eyes.” 
— Vince Gill

And there’s something here for every artist reading this. Because Don Schlitz represents a path many overlook.

He wasn’t the face on the album cover. He wasn’t the one on stage most nights. He was behind the scenes. Writing. Crafting. Refining. And shaping careers.

“You build your career on great songs. Don wrote the kind you build on.” 
— Reba McEntire

In today’s world, artists are told to be everything.
Creator.
Marketer.
Brand.
Machine.

Schlitz reminds us of something grounding:

You don’t have to do everything.
But what you do…
Do it extraordinarily well.

He did.
Over and over again.

He was inducted into the Nashville Songwriters Hall of Fame. The Songwriters Hall of Fame. He won Grammys. He wrote songs that outlived trends, formats, and eras.

“When a Don Schlitz song came in, you paid attention. You knew it mattered.” 
— Garth Brooks

There’s a quiet power in that kind of work.
No hype.
No noise.
Just songs that travel.
Songs that stay.

Songs that show up years later, right when someone needs them.

“He wrote songs people didn’t just listen to— they carried them with them.” 
— Dolly Parton

And maybe that’s the real legacy. Not just The Gambler. Not just the hits. But the standard. What it means to write something that lasts. Something that becomes part of someone else’s life.

Because somewhere right now…
Someone is facing a decision.
And a line from one of Don's songs is helping them choose.

That’s legacy.
And Don Schlitz built his— one song at a time.

No gimmicks. No formulas. No chasing the algorithm.
And yet… decades of defining what great records feel like.
This isn’t about production.
It’s about how truth gets into the work.

• TrueFans Feature— Rick Rubin on... Rick Rubin
On Creativity, Taste, and the Courage to Trust Yourself

This piece draws from a long-form conversation between Rick Rubin and Joe Rogan— not as a transcript, but as something far more useful: a distillation of how Rubin actually thinks about making great work.

Because what he shares isn’t tactical.
It’s foundational.

And for Music Artists trying to build something real— not just visible— it may be one of the clearest lenses you’ll ever find.

Taste Comes First
Rubin doesn’t begin with technique. He begins with taste.
What moves you. What feels right. What you’re drawn to before you can explain it. That’s the signal. That’s the compass. And it’s deeply personal.

Most artists don’t lose their ability— they lose their sensitivity to that signal. They start second-guessing it. Then overriding it. Then replacing it with what they think is “working.”

And slowly, the work disconnects— from them first… then from everyone else.

“Your taste is your guide. Not the market.”

Skill matters. Craft matters. But they come after. Taste is what makes something yours.

The Work Isn’t About Being “Good”
This is where things get uncomfortable.
Because “good” is measurable. 
“Good” is safe. 
“Good” is what you can point to and say, See? This works.

But Rubin isn’t chasing good.
He’s chasing honest.
And honest is rarely neat. It doesn’t always impress on first listen. It doesn’t always fit expectations. Sometimes it feels too simple… or too exposed.

But that’s exactly why it connects.
Artists drift when they move from:
What do I love?
to
What will they love?

It’s subtle. Almost invisible when it happens.
But it changes everything about the work.

“People don’t connect to perfect. 
They connect to real.”

Less... Is the Work
Most people think creativity is about adding.
More layers. More sounds. More polish.
Rubin listens for what doesn’t belong— and removes it. Then listens again. And removes more.

Not to make something minimal…
but to make it inevitable.
Take a breath and consider:

What are you adding that’s actually covering the core?
What are you keeping because of effort— not because of truth?
What would happen if you trusted the simplest version?

“When you take away what’s unnecessary, 
what remains has power.”

Instinct Doesn’t Need Permission
One of Rubin’s most freeing ideas is also one of the hardest to live.

You don’t need to know why something works.
You just need to feel that it does.

Artists get caught trying to explain their instincts— to justify them before they trust them. But instinct doesn’t operate in that language.
It shows up as a pull. A quiet yes. A subtle no.
And when you override that with analysis, you lose the thread.

“If it feels right, that’s enough.” 

There’s a place for thinking.
This just isn’t it.

The Audience Isn’t the Starting Point
This one flips the script most artists have been handed.

Rubin doesn’t begin with the audience. He begins with the work itself— the song, the feeling, the thing that wants to exist.
The audience comes later.

If the work is true, they’ll find it. Not everyone. Not all at once. But the right people will.
And those are the ones who matter.

“Make something you believe in. 
The audience will recognize it.”

The TrueFans Take
This is where Rubin’s philosophy lands squarely in the center of everything we talk about.

You don’t build a career by chasing attention.
You build it by creating work that creates connection.
And connection isn’t engineered. It isn’t optimized. It isn’t something you back into after the fact.

It comes from:

That’s how something resonates
And resonance— over time— is what builds TrueFans.

Not spikes.
Not noise.
Not borrowed momentum.

Real connection. Repeated. Deepened.

One More Thing
There’s a calm to Rubin’s approach.
No urgency. No posturing. No need to prove anything.
Just a steady belief that the answer is already there— and that the work is less about forcing it out…
and more about not getting in its way.

That might be the hardest part.
Because it asks for trust. Patience. Restraint.

But when you give it that space…
The work changes.
And the people it’s meant for?
They feel it.

Source: Adapted from a conversation between Rick Rubin and Joe Rogan. Edited and interpreted for clarity, focus, and relevance to working Music Artists.

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There was a time— believe it or not— when Music Artists didn’t have to think about “the business.” They made the music. And that was enough.

Once upon a time, there were Creatives and there were Business People.

Music Artists wrote the songs, made the records, did the thing only they could do. Record labels took it from there— pressed it, promoted it, got it on the radio, booked the tours, built the machine around the art.

Writers lived in the same world. You got a deal, and the publisher handled distribution, PR, signings, the whole circus.
You created.
They carried.
That was the deal.

And for a long time, it worked— at least for the ones who got through the gate.

Not anymore.

Somewhere along the way— and it didn’t happen all at once— that deal started to shift. A little more responsibility landed on the artist. A little less support came from the system.

Then a little more.
Then a lot more.

And now?
Now the Creative and the Business Person are the same person.
You.

You write the songs. You (probably) record them. And you release them, promote them, build the audience, sell the tickets, nurture the fans, and keep the whole thing moving.
All while trying to stay inspired enough to make the next song worth hearing.

A lot of Music Artists hate this.
And I get it.
It feels like something was taken. Like the bargain got broken.

It did.

But here’s the part most people don’t want to hear.
It’s not coming back.

Quoth the raven…
Never more.

You can wait for the old system.
You can hope someone “discovers” you and decides to take care of everything.
You can wish for a label or publisher to step in and carry the load.

Or…
You can deal with what is.

Because here’s the truth— harsh, but clean.

If you refuse to engage with the business side of your music, you don’t have much of a shot. Not at making a living, and not even at making a life out of it.

That’s not cynicism.
That’s the landscape.

Now… before you decide this is about turning yourself into a marketer…
It’s not.

It’s about understanding where the power moved.

Back then, artists had reach.
Today, you have the chance to build relationship. Direct, human, ongoing relationship with the people who care about your music.
And relationship— done right— is more durable than reach ever was.

The tools are in your hands now.
Distribution is accessible. Promotion is accessible. Connection is absolutely accessible.

That’s not a burden.
It’s a shift.

But only if you pick it up.

The artists who are building something real today aren’t just talented.
They’re engaged. They understand that the “business” isn’t separate from the art anymore— it’s how the art finds its people.

And the ones who don’t?
They keep waiting. Waiting for a break. Waiting for permission. Waiting for something that used to exist… but doesn’t anymore.

Look…
You don’t have to love this.
You don’t have to wake up excited about marketing plans or release schedules.

But you do have to accept it.

Because once you do, something opens up. You stop fighting reality. And you start building something that’s actually yours.

Something that doesn’t depend on gatekeepers.
Something that grows because people care.
Something that lasts.

Your music still matters.
Now more than ever.

But… So does what you do with it.

Until we speak again…

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And PLEASE, if you've got any Music Artist friends, pass the TrueFans AMP™ on, because... It’s Time... for a Change. Big Time. Past Time...