To be a songwriter-singer means the songs come from deep within

Hearken, O children of the future, to the voice of Roy Orbison, who declared: “To be a songwriter-singer means the songs come from deep within, and you treat them as an artist, with that much respect. I couldn’t hardly cheat myself.” This is no idle boast, but a confession of the soul, spoken by one who knew that true creation is not fashioned with careless hands, but drawn forth from the depths of the heart like water from a hidden spring. In his words, there is both reverence and warning: to betray the song is to betray the self, for the song is the mirror of the soul.

The songwriter-singer is unlike the mere performer, for he does not only echo the voices of others, but shapes melodies from his own being. To sing such songs is to bleed in rhythm, to carve emotions into sound. This is why Orbison insists upon respect—for to dishonor the song is to dishonor the truth that gave it birth. It is not simply entertainment, it is testimony; not merely craft, but calling. The ancients would say that to such men, the Muses whisper, and to turn away would be to close one’s ears to the voice of heaven.

Consider the life of Orbison himself. Known as the “Caruso of Rock,” his voice was not forged by vanity but by sorrow, resilience, and passion. His songs—“Crying,” “Only the Lonely,” and “In Dreams”—were not shallow compositions but hymns of grief, longing, and beauty. They endure because they were born of authenticity. Orbison could not, as he said, cheat himself, for to do so would have been to silence the very wellspring of his gift. Thus his career, though marked by hardship and tragedy, remains immortal, because truth was its foundation.

History bears many witnesses to this principle. Recall the poet Homer, who sang of heroes and gods. If he had written falsehoods to flatter kings, his verses would have perished with their thrones. But because his words sprang from the heart of his people, from their fears and their dreams, they have outlasted empires. So too did Vincent van Gogh, in painting not what was fashionable but what his heart demanded. Though spurned in life, his works live eternal. The lesson is clear: authentic art, born from within, cannot die, for it carries the eternal spark of the soul.

Orbison’s words also remind us of the danger of cheating oneself. For what greater tragedy than to know the truth within and yet silence it for comfort or applause? Many have sought the path of ease, creating not from the soul but from the demand of the market. Such works may glitter for a moment but fade like dust in the wind. Only those who remain faithful to the voice within stand the test of time, their works a lamp for generations yet unborn.

The wisdom here is not only for artists. Each life is itself a song, composed not of notes but of choices. To live falsely, to betray one’s own calling, is to cheat oneself. To live truthfully, with reverence for the gifts one has been given, is to create a masterpiece of existence. In this way, Orbison’s teaching is for all: not only singers and poets, but all who would live with integrity.

Therefore, let this be your charge: find the song within you, whether it be in words, in deeds, in service, or in love. Treat it with the same respect Orbison gave his music. Do not seek shortcuts that betray your spirit, nor mimic voices that are not your own. Instead, nurture your gift, honor it, and let it speak without fear.

And finally, remember this: the world does not need another imitation, but the pure and radiant flame of your true self. Just as Orbison’s voice pierced the silence with honesty, so too can your life shine brightly if lived without deceit. Cheat not yourself, for in the end, the greatest masterpiece you can offer the world is the truth of who you are.