True Nature of Popularity: Losing the Masses to Get Approval of the Few

True popularity is a myth. Authenticity, not pleasing the masses, attracts the few who truly matter. Be yourself, create boldly, and the right people will find you.

“In terms of priority, inspiration comes first. You come next. The audience comes last.” Rick Rubin’s statement isn’t just advice—it’s a revolutionary way to see creativity, popularity, and what it means to matter. Most of us grow up thinking popularity is the prize, that if enough people like us, we’ve won. But that’s a lie that leads many down a hollow path.

Popularity, as it’s commonly understood, is a myth. Nobody is universally loved or understood. The world is too big, too complex, and people are too diverse for universal approval to be possible. Yet, many chase it desperately. They tailor their words, their work, their very selves to fit into molds designed by others. But the harder you chase popularity, the more it slips through your fingers.

Rubin puts it plainly: “Creativity is the greatest rebellion in existence.” Why? Because true creativity means putting yourself first—your vision, your values, your unique spark. It means having the courage to say, “I don’t like the way the world is. I think I can make it better.” That statement alone is bold, defiant, and inherently disruptive. When you make that declaration by being authentic, you will, without fail, upset the status quo. Some people won’t like it. In fact, many won’t. That’s not a flaw. It’s a fundamental feature of authenticity.

Consider any artist, entrepreneur, or thinker who changed their field or culture. They weren’t universally popular. Steve Jobs famously said, “Your work is going to fill a large part of your life… the only way to be truly satisfied is to do what you believe is great work.” Jobs didn’t try to please everyone. He chased excellence according to his own vision—and yes, many hated or misunderstood him. But those who got him? They changed the world alongside him.

This is the paradox of popularity: it requires sacrificing universal approval to gain authentic recognition. Trying to please everyone waters down your work and your voice until it becomes meaningless. As Rick Rubin warns, “An entertainer is someone who pleases others, and an artist tries to please himself.” When you make your work about pleasing others, “you lose your own voice.” The moment you start worrying about what others think, “you’ve already lost the magic.”

Popularity built on performance is hollow and exhausting. It’s a fragile castle made of sand. You have to constantly maintain it, shifting to suit the crowd. But authentic creativity is a fortress of stone. It’s built on your values, your passions, your unique perspective. It withstands criticism because it’s rooted in truth—your truth.

What, then, is real popularity? It’s not millions of casual fans. It’s the few—the handful of people who truly get you, who see the value and meaning behind your work, who become your tribe. “If you’re true to yourself and you’re authentic, the right people will find you,” Rubin says. Those few are your real audience, your lifeline.

Let’s say you write poetry that no one but a handful of people understand. Does that mean your poetry isn’t valuable? Absolutely not. Those few who resonate with it are the ones who will cherish and spread your work. In the long run, a small, devoted audience is far more powerful than a vast, indifferent crowd.

This perspective frees you. It lets you stop performing, stop pretending, stop chasing applause. It lets you focus on what matters—your vision, your passion, your contribution. Rubin sums it up: “The only thing that matters is that you keep creating, keep moving forward with your own vision.” Not for the crowd, not for approval, but for yourself.

But why is it so hard to embrace this freedom? Because we fear rejection. We crave approval. Social pressure trains us to seek popularity like it’s survival. Yet, understanding that popularity is a myth—that universal approval is impossible—gives you power. It lets you accept rejection as part of the process, as a sign you’re breaking new ground.

Fear makes many stay safe and generic. But safety doesn’t breed greatness. Greatness comes from risk, from boldness, from rebellion. It comes from trusting your instincts, even when it scares you. “Don’t let anyone else tell you what your art should be,” Rubin urges. That’s your call.

So here’s the truth: stop chasing popularity. Stop trying to be liked by everyone. Stop diluting your work to fit the masses. Be the artist who pleases himself. Be the rebel who follows his own compass. Put your work out into the world with courage and your full self. Because the only popularity worth having—the kind that lasts—is the kind that comes from unapologetic authenticity.

And that popularity? It’s waiting for you. Maybe it comes from five people, maybe ten. Those few are enough. They are the ones who will fuel your journey, who will see your value, who will help you change the world.