You know you’re good you know the same way now that you did then, by way of a mental game. The name of the game is Fuck What That Asshole Thinks.
If you’ve been a musician and made an honest effort at being in the trenches, you’ve done something at some point like playing a showcase where the opening band (that you asked the promoter to book because you thought they were great) got a fantastic review from the music editor of the local weekly, who was recently reassigned from the county commissioner court update and oxygen bar review, and who didn’t even mention that you played afterwards, probably because he heard you and he flat didn’t like you. Wow, what a drag. You invited that band and the guy from the paper liked them and not you, so now you’re sad. Wait, no you’re not. No bravado, you’re a little angry at the snub but you really, genuinely don’t care that he didn’t like you. Who the fuck is that guy? You didn’t write that song for him, and you don’t care if he likes it. Fuck What That Asshole Thinks.
It’s a game, of course, you wouldn’t be playing music in front of crowds if you didn’t care, maybe deeply, probably very deeply, what other people think. A musician needs to have a very, very thick skin, but it’s not even that. It’s just that no matter how deeply you care about what other people think about your music that you couldn’t do it if you let what any of them think affect you too deeply, period. You’re not poring over and hand wringing over what somebody else thinks about what you do because it has to come from inside you, not from what the crowd or a critic thinks you should be doing. In a way that’s what was so brilliant about, say, the Stooges; at his greatest Iggy straddled a line between entertainment and violent conflict - I’m not asking for your criticism and input, I’m telling you to watch this, motherfucker, there will be no negotiation on what you think is cool or what I should be doing, you will watch this. You know you’re good because it sounds right, feels right, people are paying to see it and it’s working. We used to joke that we played too loud to boo during songs, and that our pauses between songs were too short to get a boo in, but it was a joke, because we weren’t actually trying to drown anybody out (well, much), we were trying to write the best, tightest songs we could, and nobody ever actually booed, they cheered. If somebody loves what you’re doing then it’s a golden moment, if they don’t, you didn’t do it for them. If you’re poring over internet comments about your music and wondering how you need to change so that people like you better, you need to have somebody smack the computer out of your hand very hard and remind you of the name of the game.