Happy Mondays: a music producer's story
Toby Scott: songwriter/music producer - Brighton, England
First thing on a Monday and songwriter/producer Toby is buzzing, “I look forward to work most days… I can’t really think of any days where I don’t.”
“What I’m doing feels like what I’m built to do. It encapsulates my skills and abilities. And it fulfils my reward centres. It makes me feel good. I’ve found something that uses the things I do best. And I find it fun.” When he’s surrounded by the right mix of people, there’s mutual enthusiasm, and the recording sessions feel like a celebration, “That flow state is amazing.” And when this happens, their creativity skyrockets, “We might be able to write three songs in a day – it feels like we’ve won!”
But this zest for Mondays hasn’t always been the case.
It pays to be a quitter
Back in the early 2000s, Toby had just started at university and was seriously questioning his life choices, “Why the **** am I studying computer science? I’m never going to pass this degree because I’m not doing it!”
Somehow, he’d found himself studying something completely at odds with his passions. Why? “Because I was quite good at computers at A-level and didn’t really know what else to do.” Despite being “obsessed” with music as a teenager, it hadn’t been on his radar for university because, “I didn’t know it was an option for a career – and it wasn’t a traditional path. It felt rebellious enough to do a degree in computer science.”
You know that awful, sinking feeling when you’ve made a big decision, and you’ve chosen the wrong thing? “I wasn’t interested in computer science at all. And that whole year I spent missing lectures – getting people to help me with my coursework – and doing music: meeting loads of musicians and working with them, DJing, and going in for music competitions. So, I made the decision to quit.”
He ended up heading to the opposite side of the country to begin a totally different degree in music technology, “That was obviously more than a bit risky, because I didn’t know how I was going to make a living afterwards. I think people can find that information a bit more easily now – but back then you didn’t have the resources online to see how you could eventually make a living out of something like this. And there was no careers advice for something like that unless you knew the right people, which I didn’t.” Yet something in him had clicked into place, “I thought ‘I’ve gotta make this work’”.
But quitting computer science was just his first leap of faith.
The joy of pop
As a teenager, Toby had been staunchly into non-mainstream music. “I remember thinking I wouldn’t ever write something commercial or make anything commercial. Even if someone offered me £1,000,000, I wouldn’t write a pop song!” Yet in the summer of his second year at uni, he found himself doing work experience at one of the UK’s biggest pop production factories: Xenomania.
“I got a little view into the commercial world of music. I’d never even thought that writing songs was a way I would end up making a living. I thought maybe, if I could, I’d be doing music for computer games or films or TV – and I was really up for that.” But arriving at Xenomania, he realised, “Oh, wow there are people that just sit in the studio and write songs all day – and they get paid for it? I was quite surprised – I couldn’t believe you could actually have a day job writing songs.”
Occasionally, timing and talent are on your side, “When I finished my degree I messaged someone [at Xenomania] and asked if they’d got any advice… and started working there a week later.” Despite being on, “Next to nothing pay” and “just sort of helping out” in the studio, he loved the excitement of it all, “Up until this point I’d not really been interested in pop music – but I’d suddenly found myself in that world.”
“Then, straight away – in my first week working there – I was tasked to make a remix for a Girls Aloud song that came out that week. I couldn’t believe they were going to put it out, because I thought I wasn’t capable of doing something that actually gets released. I said, ‘Isn’t an adult going to finish this for me?’ And I thought, ‘Wow – if I can do it, then anyone can!’”
But the constant pressure to perform was intense. And what Toby didn’t anticipate was that finding your calling doesn’t mean the hard part is over – sometimes it’s just the beginning.
A decade of sacrifice
“Over the course of those first few years, I went through a bit of a rollercoaster – being initially told I was brilliant, and then beaten down and told that I was absolutely s**t, terrible, useless, the weakest member of the team… and then built up again to say that I was amazing. There were times I felt like leaving.”
So why didn’t he? “Something inside me was saying ‘don’t’. I didn’t know whether I was being weak by not leaving, or sensible by staying – or a bit of both. And there was always the thought that you could have a hit – which would be great for your CV and your career moving forward – so I rode it.”
Toby’s intrinsic motivation gave him the determination to push through for a decade. “I thought, ‘This is just the grit and the graft. Put everything you can into this, and then it’ll be worth it in the end’”. It may have built his resilience, but he had to make some pretty big sacrifices along the way, “I sacrificed my social life, my friendships and the ability to have romantic relationships because I was working until nighttime every day – and at weekends too.”
Toby basically became a hermit for a decade. Not ideal for his social life, but excellent for his 10,000 hours. And while he misses the friendships that fell by the wayside, does he regret it? “No. There were some great moments – and sometimes it was a lot of fun. But there were sacrifices made by deciding to focus on my career.”
By now, many people would have burnt out completely. But Toby was about to discover that ten years of hard graft had been preparing him for the biggest risk to date.
Going solo
Choosing to leave Xenomania put him almost back to square one. “I didn’t know what lay ahead. This was like restarting my career completely – I didn’t know if I’d be a mixing engineer or a producer who produced other people’s songs. I wasn’t even sure I’d be a songwriter.” He had to relearn who he was, outside the Xeno-machine.
Toby hadn’t yet had a hit – but, having spent a decade sacrificing his social life, had managed to save enough to strike out alone. But savings pots aren’t limitless… “In that first year, I didn’t earn enough to live on – and my savings went down significantly. In fact, I was earning at such a loss that by the end of the third year I was going to have nothing. I was watching my bank balance go down to zero, knowing I might have to think about another career.” Then, just as he started to run out of money completely, his career took off.
“I was initially doing pop music, but have evolved into the dance world. It’s a better fit for me; I think it’s where my talent lies.” Plus, as it was his biggest musical influence in his late teens and early 20s, “It feels like I’ve come full circle.” And he’s found his superpower in collaboration. “Every song I write is a collaboration with other writers. When I write alone, it’s not as fun, not as rewarding.” He’s full of admiration for artists who can do that, “Maybe they’re true artists – people who can just sit down for days and days on end, doing their own thing, on their own project? I’d find it really tough.”
As ways to make a living, Toby says it’s pretty good. After all, “Writing a song with people that you like – your friends – what’s not to like?”
Not just a career, a calling
But does he think he’s found his purpose? “I feel like my purpose is to make songs that people can enjoy – and that I also enjoy. And I feel satisfaction when I do something well,” he says. “But purpose is almost a bit grander, isn’t it? It’s like ‘What are you giving to the world?’ And what am I giving to the world? Music? Songs? It doesn’t sound very profound, does it?” But does purpose always have to be that dramatic?
He says one of the best parts of what he does is, “Hearing stories of the songs helping individuals – seeing comments on YouTube and Instagram and getting private messages – about how they’ve helped people with mental health and personal struggles. You feel like you’re actually giving something back. It makes me feel good, it makes me feel satisfied, it makes me feel like I’ve done something.”
Toby wants to continue making a positive difference, one song at a time, for as long as he can. Yet he remains pragmatic about the threat of AI, “Everything changes, doesn’t it? I think I need to be ok with adapting and changing what I do.” His adaptability and resilience, combined with a solid growth mindset, should hold him in good stead. But even if the worst happened, would he still make music? “Yeah – for sure! Obviously, the collaborative element’s important to me, so I’d want to do it with other people. But, at the moment, I like what I’m doing, and I’ll carry on.”
Toby calls it his career, but it’s clear he’s found his calling. And he’s quick to acknowledge how fortunate he is, “I think everyone’s good at something, and I’m good at this – and have been lucky enough to find it and make it my career.” But remember, “When I started out in the industry, I felt useless, like I didn’t know anything.” So, if he could go back in time, what advice would he give to his former self? “Just keep going. Stick at it. Don’t give up. Don’t get knocked down. And don’t listen to people saying that you’re not good enough.”
That teenager who swore he’d never write commercial music? His tracks can be heard all around the world – in shopping centres, gyms, dance clubs, on the radio, in movies… And somewhere, right now, someone is dancing to one of them and having the time of their life.