Life, Values & Legacy: Our Chat with Nye Davidson of Los Angeles

Nye Davidson shared their story and experiences with us recently and you can find our conversation below.

Nye, a huge thanks to you for investing the time to share your wisdom with those who are seeking it. We think it’s so important for us to share stories with our neighbors, friends and community because knowledge multiples when we share with each other. Let’s jump in: What do you think is misunderstood about your business? 
That it’s super lucrative. People think songwriting comes with so much money. People have seen me work with major artists, be on some tv shows working with artists and having strong charting songs but money for most songwriters come four-times a year and that’s from royalties. It’s a constant grind and you’re forced to be creative with income a lot of the time

Can you briefly introduce yourself and share what makes you or your brand unique?
I’m a songwriter first and always—that’s my foundation and my passion. Writing songs is how I process the world. I’m an empath by nature, so I’m really good at tapping into emotion and translating that into records that feel honest, relatable, and memorable. I’m especially strong with hooks and top-lines. I understand melody, catchiness, and how a song lives beyond the moment you first hear it—and that’s something I take a lot of pride in because it’s what separates a good song from one that really sticks.

Over the past several years, my career has expanded in a unique way. I started out working with Candiace Dillard Bassett purely as a writer, but as we collaborated, she saw that my thinking didn’t stop at the song. I’m a visionary by nature. My background in PR, marketing, and corporate communications trained my mind to always think a step or two ahead—how a record is positioned, how a story is told, how everything connects. That naturally evolved into me managing her career and helping shape her creative direction, brand, and long-term strategy.

What makes my journey a little different is that I live at the intersection of creativity and structure. I’m deeply creative, but I also understand business, branding, and audience. I’m very connected across industries—from music to media to corporate spaces—and I’m good at connecting dots because of those life experiences. Since working with Candiace, I’ve also consulted with other artists around branding, creative development, and A&R, which led me to launch The Songwrita Agency, my consulting firm.

At the end of the day, though, songwriting is still my mainstay. Everything else I do is built around protecting and amplifying the music. I care about writing songs that move people, last over time, and make artists feel seen—and I use every other skill I have to make sure those songs reach their fullest potential.

Thanks for sharing that. Would love to go back in time and hear about how your past might have impacted who you are today. Who saw you clearly before you could see yourself?
My late, great friend and sister in spirit, Traci Braxton, saw me clearly before I ever fully saw myself.

What started as a simple, almost casual email—back when I was living in D.C.—changed the entire trajectory of my life. Her producer at the time, Dave Lindsey, believed enough in my work to bring it to her while she was working on her second album during her time on Braxton Family Values. That one moment of belief turned into me writing and effectively co-producing nearly 90% of her album, On Earth, including the lead single Lifeline.

But what made Traci special wasn’t just that she recognized my talent—it was how deeply she believed in me. She saw my drive. She saw my hunger. When I moved to Los Angeles and things got hard, she saw the struggle and the hustle up close. She showed up for me in real ways—sometimes that meant groceries, sometimes gas, sometimes a ride, sometimes just reminding me that I wasn’t crazy for chasing this dream.

She watched me compete on SongLand, and when I was cut and felt defeated, she was the one who held me together when others didn’t know how—or didn’t try. She never let me question whether I was gifted. She affirmed it constantly, loudly, and without conditions.

Traci saw my vision before it was fully formed. She saw my purpose before it had a title. And because of her, I learned how powerful it is when someone believes in you so deeply that it forces you to rise into yourself. Her belief planted a confidence in me that I still carry—and I honor her every time I create.

Was there ever a time you almost gave up?
Yes—there was a moment where I genuinely almost gave up.

In 2017, I flew to Atlanta for what I thought was a turning-point meeting. A very well-known, respected former record executive—someone whose initials are R.D.—had agreed to hear my music after his team felt the timing was right and believed I had records that could really land somewhere. I came prepared. I had vetted those songs with respected people in the industry beforehand—people whose ears I trusted—and everyone felt confident walking into that room.

I waited nearly two hours in the lobby before the meeting even started. When I was finally called in, I played my records in front of him and his entire team. And the room felt right. Heads were bobbing. People were exchanging looks. You could feel the energy shift in a good way. His team clearly liked what they were hearing.

Then everything changed.

He started asking me questions—and almost immediately, the tone flipped. He referred to my writing as amateur. He dismissed my taste when he asked who my favorite songwriters were. He gave this back-handed encouragement, saying I should maybe come back and play more music… or maybe not. He even said, outright, that this might not be for me. And then he told me I was too old at that point to determine what was “cool” in music.

I was crushed.

I walked out of that meeting questioning everything. Not just my songs—but myself. For months afterward, I carried that experience with me. I truly wondered if songwriting was something I should walk away from altogether. What made it even harder was that everyone I had played those records for beforehand was shocked by his response. To this day, I don’t know if he was having a bad day or if I was just the easiest target in the room—but I felt the weight of it deeply.

What’s wild is that he now has a very popular podcast where people hang on his every word for advice, guidance, and encouragement—advice that sounds nothing like the experience I had sitting across from him that day.

But in the end, I didn’t let that moment break me.

It almost did—but it didn’t. And when I look at the work I’ve done since, the artists I’ve written for, the career I’ve built, and the doors that have opened, I realize that moment didn’t define me. It tested me. And choosing not to quit—that decision changed everything.

Sure, so let’s go deeper into your values and how you think. What would your closest friends say really matters to you?
My closest friends would tell you that relationships and community are everything to me.

I’m deeply rooted in my tribe—the people who walk with me, check on me, pray for me, challenge me, and remind me who I am when the noise gets loud. I genuinely couldn’t do what I do, or keep going at the pace I do, without my support system. They are my grounding force. My safe place. My mirror.

I value their words more than most people realize—the encouragement, the random check-ins, the “I see you,” especially on the days when things feel heavy or uncertain. And yes, I’ll say it: their validation matters to me. Not in an insecure way, but in a human way. When you’re building something from nothing, when you’re constantly pushing forward, that affirmation from people who know you hits differently.

Above any accolade, any industry win, any outside praise—their approval, their honesty, their belief in me resonates a thousand times louder. Because they’ve seen the full journey. They’ve seen the struggle, the growth, the pivots, the quiet moments. And knowing that the people I love and respect are proud of me means more than any headline ever could.

Okay, we’ve made it essentially to the end. One last question before you go. What is the story you hope people tell about you when you’re gone?
I hope people say that I led with kindness—and that I was real.

I want the story to be that I was someone without an agenda, without ulterior motives, and without a need to center myself in every room. That I genuinely wanted artists to have the best song and the best positioning possible—and if one of my songs helped make that happen, then even better. But the goal was always the art and the person, not my ego.

I hope they say I showed up with integrity in an industry that doesn’t always reward it. That even in a dog-eat-dog business, I chose to be supportive, collaborative, and human. I didn’t let competition harden me or let chasing placements turn me into someone unrecognizable. I stayed myself.

More than anything, I want people to remember that I showed up genuinely—that I celebrated others, made room at the table, and helped create spaces where people felt seen and protected. If that’s the legacy I leave behind, then I’ll know I did something right.

Contact Info:

• Instagram: @nyethesongwrita
• Twitter: @nyethesongwrita
• Youtube: https://YouTube.com/ndavidsonmusic

Image Credits
Jon Dailey
Paris Akeem