Art & Creativity Quote by Bryan Adams

That little “saying” is a humblebrag with teeth: it frames songwriting as a craft anyone can attempt, then quietly draws a line between output and impact. Bryan Adams isn’t confessing he can’t write. He’s admitting that the part people mythologize - inspiration, the lightning bolt - is actually the cheap part. The expensive part is judgment: knowing when a catchy idea is just a demo in nice clothes, and when it’s something that can survive radio repetition, stadium acoustics, and the listener’s shifting life.

The subtext is veteran anxiety. Adams has lived on the right side of that line (“Summer of ’69,” “Heaven”), so “I’m going through that right now” lands as a real-time status update from someone whose standards have been sharpened by decades of being measured against his own catalog. For an artist of his era, “great” isn’t experimental cool; it’s durability. It’s the chorus that feels inevitable, the lyric that sounds conversational but is engineered, the emotion that hits without begging.

Context matters: pop-rock songwriting is industrial. Co-writes, pitch sessions, algorithm-trained hooks - the modern machine can generate “songs” endlessly. Adams’ line pushes back on that abundance. Greatness, he implies, is scarcity, and it’s personal: you can’t outsource the final filter where taste, restraint, and self-critique decide whether you’re making content or making something people keep.