The story behind the song
The paralysis of almost
You know that feeling when you’re stuck behind a locked door you built yourself?
I wrote “Failing At It” during one of those seasons where I was drowning in my own head. Scrolling through everyone else’s highlight reels, convinced they had it all figured out while I was fumbling in the dark. Imposter syndrome had me by the throat—every win felt stolen, every step forward felt like fraud.
The worst part? I knew what I was capable of. But knowing and doing are separated by a canyon of self-doubt, comparison, and that voice that keeps whispering “you’re not ready yet.”
Perfection became my prison guard. If I couldn’t do it flawlessly, why do it at all?
The spark
The line “perfection is the thief of progress” hit me one morning after I’d spent hours tweaking something that was already good enough. I realised I’d become fluent in the language of excuses. “I’m not ready.” “They’re better than me.” “What if I fail?”
But here’s the thing—I was already failing. By not trying.
Everyone I admired, everyone who seemed to have it together, they weren’t nailing it. They were just showing up. Messy. Imperfect. Failing forward while I stood frozen at the gate.
I wanted to write something that grabbed people by the collar and said, “Stop waiting for permission. Stop comparing. Just START.”
Building the sound
Musically, I knew this needed aggression. Not anger—defiance. I wanted trap energy fused with South African folk rock, something that hit you in the chest and made you nod your head whether you wanted to or not.
We went hard on the 808 bass, kept it at 95 BPM so the rap verses could breathe with that deliberate, punchy delivery. The verses needed to feel like someone calling you out—conversational but confrontational. “They make it look so easy, like they never second-guess / But I’m drowning in the maybe, straight suffocating in this mess.”
The sung chorus provides release—anthemic, singable, the kind of hook that gets stuck in your head. “Others seem like they’re just nailing it / All we’re doing is just failing at it.” There’s liberation in admitting that out loud.
We stripped the Zulu elements down to just the bridge—”Indlela ibuzwa kwabaphambili” (the path is asked from those who’ve walked before). Because the truth is, every legend started somewhere full of doubt. They were failing at it too. They just didn’t stop.
What it means now
This song has become a mirror I hold up when I catch myself overthinking again. Because I still do it. The difference is now recognise the pattern faster.
Comparison is still a killer. Social media still makes it look like everyone else has unlocked some secret I’m missing. But “Failing At It” reminds me that the only real failure is standing still.
Imposter syndrome? Fine. Bring it along for the ride. Just don’t let it drive.
The universal thread
Here’s what I’ve learned: we’re all faking it to some degree. The ones who look like they’re crushing it? They’re just willing to fail publicly. They’ve made peace with being a work in progress.
You don’t need permission. You don’t need to be ready. You need to take the first messy step and then the next one.
The path is walked by those who try—failing, stumbling, learning as they go.
Listen to “Failing At It” and stop waiting for the perfect moment. It’s not coming. This is it.
From the album Ancient Roads
