I Gave the Internet the Keys to My Next Single and It Drove Off the Road
It started the way most of my worst ideas do: at 1AM, slightly delirious, staring at a demo I couldn't finish.
The track was fine. Chords were there, the hook was circling like a hawk that wouldn't land. But the title? Nothing. Every option I wrote sounded like a Spotify playlist from 2019. So I did what any sleep-deprived indie artist with a modest but loyal following would do — I opened a poll on Instagram and let the internet decide.
I figured maybe forty people would vote. Mostly friends. Mostly my mom's book club, honestly.
The Poll That Ate My Week
By Tuesday morning there were over 1,400 votes. The comment section had factions. FACTIONS. There was a grassroots campaign for "Gas Station Burrito" — a title somebody clearly submitted as a joke — that had the energy of a presidential primary. Meanwhile, my carefully curated options like "Neon Hymnal" and "Slow Collapse" were pulling single digits.
A guy in Ohio made campaign graphics. Someone else started a change.org petition to disqualify "Gas Station Burrito" on the grounds that it "wasn't a real song title." It got, and I say this with love, extremely weird.
And here's the part I didn't expect: it stopped feeling like a stunt.
When the Joke Becomes the Song
I sat with "Gas Station Burrito" for a couple days before I admitted the obvious — it was funnier and more honest than anything I'd written. My whole catalog is moody midwestern melancholy. This title had a pulse. It had a little grease on the wrapper. It made people smile before they'd heard a single note.
So I rewrote the song. Not into a joke track — I'm not doing novelty music — but into something warmer. The verses became a little travelogue about late-night highway stops, the places you end up when the venue falls through and you're three hours from anywhere. Suddenly the song had a story, and the story came from a stranger in my comments who was probably just bored at work.
That's when I realized the poll had done something my own brain couldn't: it knocked me out of my own habits.
The Chord Progression Incident
Emboldened, I made a mistake. I asked people to vote on the bridge — major key lift or minor key breakdown. Democracy delivered a split so close I had to do a runoff. The runoff was ALSO close. I ended up writing both bridges and stitching them together, which shouldn't work but somehow does, like a musical contested convention.
Would I do that part again? Probably not. Some decisions belong to the person holding the guitar. But even the chaos taught me something about where my instincts end and my reflexes begin.
What I'd Tell Other Artists Trying This
If you're thinking about handing your audience some creative control, here's my field-tested advice:
Give them the small doors, not the whole house. Titles, artwork direction, setlist order, a cover song for the tour — these work great. Melody and lyrics? That's your voice. Protect it.
Set the menu before you take orders. My first poll was an open text field, which is how I received suggestions I won't repeat here. Constrain the options. Curate, then vote.
Actually follow through. Nothing torches goodwill faster than a poll you ignore. If "Gas Station Burrito" had lost and I'd released "Neon Hymnal" anyway, people would've noticed. Fans can smell a rigged election.
Thank people by name. I shout out the title winner in the single's liner notes. Cost me nothing. They've told three friends. Those friends bought hoodies.
The Single Drops Next Month
I'm not going to pretend this is how every song should get made. Art isn't a focus group, and some of the best things I've written came from places no poll would ever reach. But once in a while, letting a thousand strangers yell at you at 1AM is exactly the kick a song needs.
The single's called "Gas Station Burrito." It ships in a few weeks. And somewhere in Ohio, a guy who made campaign graphics for a burrito is getting the first listen.
Democracy works. Slowly, chaotically, and with too many comment sections — but it works.
