Long before he became the rich, resonant voice behind “Sweet Caroline,” “Cracklin’ Rosie,” and “I Am… I Said,” Neil Diamond was just a quiet songwriter in New York — pouring his heart into songs he never intended to sing. The reason, as he revealed years later, was both humble and heartbreaking: he didn’t believe his own voice was good enough.
In the early 1960s, before fame found him, Diamond worked out of the famous Brill Building, surrounded by some of the greatest songwriters in the world. Carole King, Neil Sedaka, and Barry Mann were crafting hits for the radio every day, and young Neil — shy, introspective, and still unsure of himself — wrote his songs hoping someone else might make them come alive.
“I loved writing,” he said in a 2005 interview. “But when I sang, I didn’t hear a star — I heard a guy trying too hard.”
Producers told him his voice was “too rough,” “too unusual,” and “too emotional” for pop music. And for a while, he believed them. So he wrote quietly, giving away songs that would soon become global hits — “I’m a Believer” for The Monkees, “A Little Bit Me, A Little Bit You,” and others that topped charts without his name on the cover.
“I was proud of the songs,” he admitted, “but every time I heard someone else sing them, a small part of me wondered what they might’ve sounded like if I’d had the courage.”
Everything changed one night in 1966. Alone in his apartment, Diamond sat at the piano and wrote a deeply personal song — “Solitary Man.” It wasn’t written for anyone else. It was raw, confessional, and unmistakably his. “It was the first time I heard myself and thought, that’s me. That’s who I am.”
That song became his breakthrough hit — and the beginning of a career that would make him one of the most distinctive voices in music history.
But even as success came, that old insecurity lingered. Neil later confessed that self-doubt was a constant companion: “It took me years to believe that my voice — the imperfections, the cracks, the emotion — was what made people listen.”
Now, decades later, those very qualities are what define him. Fans don’t just hear his songs; they feel them — the ache, the truth, the humanity in every note.
Looking back, Neil smiled when asked about those early days of ghostwriting:
“I used to think my voice was a flaw. Now I know — it was the gift all along.”
And perhaps that’s what makes Neil Diamond’s story so powerful. Even the man who wrote some of the world’s most enduring anthems once doubted himself — but he found his strength in the very sound he once feared.