"The flattery is nice, but awards don't add up to writing quality songs"
About this Quote
Kreviazuk’s line lands like a polite shrug in an industry built to make shrugs impossible. She grants the dopamine hit up front - “The flattery is nice” - then immediately deflates the premise that the applause is evidence. It’s a tiny act of rebellion against the award-season math that tries to turn art into a scoreboard: trophies as proof, categories as truth, consensus as craft.
The intent is practical as much as philosophical. As a working musician and songwriter, she’s separating two economies that get conflated on purpose: the promotional economy (awards, validation, brand heat) and the creative one (a melody that holds, a lyric that won’t let go). Awards are social objects; they measure visibility, campaigning, timing, taste-making, and who a room wants to be seen endorsing. Song quality is private until it isn’t, and even then it’s unruly - felt differently in a car at midnight than in a televised ceremony.
There’s subtext, too, about survival. If you let awards define “quality,” you hand your self-worth to a system that thrives on scarcity and churn. Kreviazuk keeps the compliment without renting her identity to it. The line also gently calls out how prestige can flatten songwriting into “award-worthy” templates, nudging artists toward what reads well to juries rather than what actually sings.
In a pop culture moment where metrics and accolades are treated like objective reality, her stance is almost radical: the song is the receipt, not the trophy.
The intent is practical as much as philosophical. As a working musician and songwriter, she’s separating two economies that get conflated on purpose: the promotional economy (awards, validation, brand heat) and the creative one (a melody that holds, a lyric that won’t let go). Awards are social objects; they measure visibility, campaigning, timing, taste-making, and who a room wants to be seen endorsing. Song quality is private until it isn’t, and even then it’s unruly - felt differently in a car at midnight than in a televised ceremony.
There’s subtext, too, about survival. If you let awards define “quality,” you hand your self-worth to a system that thrives on scarcity and churn. Kreviazuk keeps the compliment without renting her identity to it. The line also gently calls out how prestige can flatten songwriting into “award-worthy” templates, nudging artists toward what reads well to juries rather than what actually sings.
In a pop culture moment where metrics and accolades are treated like objective reality, her stance is almost radical: the song is the receipt, not the trophy.
Quote Details
| Topic | Music |
|---|---|
| Source | Help us find the source |
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