Many musicians, when struck by inspiration and starting to compose, believe they are creating the most beautiful music in the world. Yet a few days later, when they listen to the finished piece, it can sound awkward, even as if something is fundamentally wrong.
That moment when an idea meets the constraints of reality is common to every form of creation, not just music. Software is no exception. In the design stage, the system in your mind seems flawless. On paper, with lines and boxes neatly drawn, the flow feels perfectly logical. But months later, when you try the prototype, unexpected gaps appear. It feels much like the unease of playing a demo tape for the first time.
An idea often feels perfect at first. But by the time the song is finished, it may sound flat. Playing a demo tape for friends can suddenly feel uncomfortable. This is often the moment you first confront the gap between your own standards and an objective assessment.
Software development brings a similar experience. Features that worked seamlessly during development can feel unintuitive to actual users. A user flow that seemed perfect on paper can turn out to be so complex that no one completes it. The distance between the diagram in your head and the reality on screen is often greater than expected.
That is why almost no product is perfect from its first release. Just as debut albums rarely achieve instant commercial success, successful products are shaped through trial, error, and adjustment. What matters is the determination to keep refining the details without losing momentum.
A great song finds balance between the artist’s vision and what listeners enjoy. If it is too mainstream, it becomes dull. If it is too experimental, no one listens. The challenge is to find that point where it is familiar enough to attract attention, yet fresh enough to hold it.
The same holds true for good software. Building only what users request can result in a product that feels recycled. Pursuing only innovation can lead to a design that strays from the user’s mental model, making it uncomfortable to use. The goal is to combine proven patterns with a unique perspective so the product feels familiar at first but reveals more value over time.
Finding this balance is not about giving up one value for another. It is about bringing them together. It means finding creative solutions that preserve both usability and distinctiveness. Like a living organism, a product needs its own character.
If every musician imitated Billie Eilish’s style after her success, the market would quickly be saturated and nothing would stand out. Across genres, successful artists share a common trait: they have a voice of their own.
The same applies to software. Copying a popular app is not enough, especially now that the market is crowded with similar products. The essential task is to embed your own perspective and philosophy. Even with the same functions, the way you approach them can result in a completely different product.
Just as musicians release first, second, and third albums to show artistic growth, software should evolve through its versions. A second album might build on the promise of the first with a more mature sound, and a third might bring entirely new ideas. Each release should have a clear direction for progress.
This is not just about adding more features. It is about clarifying and strengthening the product’s core value. As musicians refine their sound over time, software should make its purpose clearer and more compelling with each update.
Each version should extend what came before while also introducing something new. Gradual evolution allows you to keep existing users while attracting new ones. Like a good band that deepens its music over time, software should solve more problems and offer richer experiences as it grows.
At the heart of all this is the difficulty of creating something from nothing and the need for deep thinking and attention to detail. A great album takes countless demos, long recording sessions, and a relentless commitment to quality.
If speed to market and quick profits become the only priorities, it is hard to create something truly meaningful. Rapid feedback and iteration are important, but the core values and vision of the product should never be lost in the process.
A masterpiece is never made overnight. It takes repeated trials and ongoing refinement. Sometimes the process requires starting over; sometimes subtle adjustments are enough to transform the result. This is how music is made that remains worth listening to for years, revealing new layers each time. True craftsmanship perfects even the parts no one sees. That unseen quality is what shapes the difference in user experience.
Software is no different. From the very first encounter to long-term use, every interaction should feel considered. A product may appear simple at first, but reveal its depth over time. This requires genuine care and persistence.
It is better to create something lasting than something rushed. Better to perfect the essential functions than to add too many. Better to pursue values that remain relevant over time than to chase passing trends. With this approach, truly good products can emerge.
In today’s complex digital world, what is needed is not more apps, but better ones. Not faster development, but deeper thought. Not flashier features, but more essential value.
The best products do not chase trends. They solve enduring problems, guided by clear values and principles, and in doing so, they offer more than functional benefits - they create a deeper kind of experience.
Making software and making an album are both acts of creation that bring meaning to people’s lives. The frustration and joy along the way, and the sense of accomplishment at the end, are deeper and longer-lasting when you take the time to refine and perfect.
In that sense, making software is very much like making an album. Both are finished works that reflect the creator’s philosophy, and both find their place in daily life as part of a shared search for meaning.