"I don't set goals for myself too much, but I'm always trying to write that one great song"
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There’s a quiet rebellion in Crow’s refusal to “set goals” even as she confesses to chasing “that one great song.” In an industry that treats creativity like a KPI dashboard, she’s rejecting the corporate language of optimization without pretending ambition doesn’t exist. The line is deliberately modest - “too much” gives her an escape hatch - but the drive is unmistakable. She’s not anti-goal; she’s anti-the kind of goal that turns art into a quarterly report.
The subtext is a defense of process over performance. A “great song” isn’t a measurable target you can reverse-engineer on a deadline; it’s an elusive standard that keeps moving as you get better, older, more scarred, more fluent. Crow frames that pursuit as perpetual, not punctuated: always trying, never arriving. That’s a veteran’s posture, not a beginner’s fantasy. It acknowledges the addictive hope at the center of songwriting: the next one might be the one that surprises even you.
Context matters, too. Crow’s career sits at the crossroads of confessional rock, radio pop, and the late-90s machinery that could elevate a track into cultural wallpaper overnight. Saying she doesn’t “set goals” reads as self-protection against that machinery’s obsession with hits, awards, and reinvention. What she’s claiming instead is a kind of artistic North Star: not fame, not dominance, but the private satisfaction of making something undeniable.
The subtext is a defense of process over performance. A “great song” isn’t a measurable target you can reverse-engineer on a deadline; it’s an elusive standard that keeps moving as you get better, older, more scarred, more fluent. Crow frames that pursuit as perpetual, not punctuated: always trying, never arriving. That’s a veteran’s posture, not a beginner’s fantasy. It acknowledges the addictive hope at the center of songwriting: the next one might be the one that surprises even you.
Context matters, too. Crow’s career sits at the crossroads of confessional rock, radio pop, and the late-90s machinery that could elevate a track into cultural wallpaper overnight. Saying she doesn’t “set goals” reads as self-protection against that machinery’s obsession with hits, awards, and reinvention. What she’s claiming instead is a kind of artistic North Star: not fame, not dominance, but the private satisfaction of making something undeniable.
Quote Details
| Topic | Music |
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