The State of New Music

Lately, I’ve noticed a spurt of thought-provoking articles on the current state of music and its corporate-sponsored nemesis, nostalgia, and I’m trying to wrap my arms around this multifaceted topic. Before I get started, I encourage you to read the following three articles I’ll refer to in this essay. They are:

1)  Is Old Music Killing New Music? By Ted Gioia of The Atlantic

2) Spotify backlash offers rare insight into reeling music industry — and struggles of working musicians
 by Travis M. Andrews of The Washington Post" 

3) Hindsight is 2022: The Psychology Behind Our Cultural Nostalgia by Kyle Chayka of Town & Country. 

This is complex stuff, and I’m not an expert in the business of music, but I’ve got a couple of key takeaways from the articles I’ve been reading:

1) Nostalgia is BIG BUSINESS, and it’s only going to get bigger as corporations seek to recoup their recent investments in the back catalogs of Bob Dylan, Bruce Springsteen, Stevie Nicks, and the like. Expect more and more oldies gracing the airwaves, be it on radio, TV shows, film and commercials.  I imagine tribute bands will become an even bigger deal than they are currently, with exact recreations of specific tours from decades ago. According to The Atlantic essay referenced above, older songs now represent 70% of the U.S. market, and the market for new music is shrinking. This is a problem if you’re in the business of making music or are a lover of new music.

Nostalgia also comes in the form of books and documentaries about older artists. I should know, because I love this stuff! Books by Steven Hyden, David Hepworth and Rob Sheffield are among my favorites, and don’t get me started on movies like 20 Feet from Stardom, Summer of Soul, Searching for Sugar Man, etc. But where I differ from many of my peers is that I still seek out new music, which brings me to my next takeaway.

 2) The music market is fragmented like never before. I cry bullshit at the old geezers (or people my age who act like old geezers) who claim that there isn’t good music being produced today. I make the counter claim: there is as much good music out today than ever before, but it’s harder to FIND than ever before. Gone are the days when I could turn on the radio and hear a couple dozen new music selections of different genres that were making a significant cultural impact. Now I have to make an effort to find new music, and virtually none of it will have a significant following. Instead, it will have a small but dedicated group of fans that might be large enough to support a small tour in the country’s largest cities. If I live in a smaller city, I may never have an opportunity to see the band. It may also be true that the band I like can’t last beyond a couple of years due to the awful reality of today’s music industry, and the band I discover will likely be one that none of my friends are aware of, making the experience of listening to their music a very lonely endeavor. Sure, it’s cool that I found the artist Sammy Rae recently, but I can’t name any friends who have heard of her. I’m a fan on an island, at least in my demographic.

As Gioia states in The Atlantic article: “I know that plenty of exceptional young musicians are out there trying to make it. They exist. But the music industry has lost its ability to discover and nurture their talents.”

Instead, they devote resources to repackaging older music. And why shouldn’t they? They’re in the business of making money, and as long as we as consumers are willing to accept hearing “Piano Man” for the billionth time, these corporations will do more to sell old music and do less to sell new music. Until we as consumers demand better, we will get nothing better.

3) The ability for new artists to make money is largely limited to touring, and even this isn’t all that lucrative for most artists. Streaming services pay a pittance, and physical product sales – while climbing – are a shadow of what they were in the 90s. For bands to make money, they have to tour and sell merchandise, and it’s an awfully tough way to make a living. Studio bands like Steely Dan, The Alan Parsons Project or XTC would not be able to exist as new entities today – with no physical product to sell, the only way to survive would be to tour, and touring takes its toll, especially when you’re playing at small clubs that charge $30 for a ticket. 

I recently saw the aforementioned Sammy Rae in Milwaukee, and I tried to calculate how the heck she and her band were making a living. I concluded that they probably weren’t. Consider this:

The concert I saw was attended by about 200 people at around $35 a pop. That’s $7000. But the venue has to be paid, and Sammy had a four-piece band open for her, not to mention the 6-piece band supporting her, a roadie or two, plus a sound guy (maybe one person managed all of this?). Then there’s the van or bus to take them from show to show, food and gas, and I would hope an occasional stay at a hotel to freshen up. And I haven’t even mentioned the band manager, the promoter, the cost of making her recordings, the rehearsal space they probably had to pay for to get prepared for the tour, etc. I can guarantee you this: no one is getting rich off of this endeavor. So the question is, how long can Sammy Rae endure before
a) by some miracle she makes it big; or
b) she decides she actually wants to live comfortably and pursues a saner occupation?
I fear it will be the latter, and we as music lovers will be the worse for it.

4) Back to streaming services. According to the Washington Post article referenced above, for every dollar of revenue Spotify earns, a songwriter might earn as little as 12 cents of revenue (assuming there are no co-writers). “Not bad,” you might say, but it takes somewhere around 20,000 plays to generate a dollar, so if you’re lucky enough to be an artist who has a song that gets a million plays, congratulations, you may have earned approximately $6. I may have some of my math wrong here, but the truth holds: streaming isn’t really lucrative except for the upper echelon of artists. 

The Washington Post article states: “According to Spotify’s data, 13,400 artists generated more than $50,000 and 7,800 generated more than $100,000 in recording and publishing royalties in 2020. The musician would most likely receive a fraction of that amount.”

A fraction of $50K isn’t making a living. It’s barely surviving.

So where do we go from here? The pandemic made it all too clear just how important entertainment is. There are days when it’s the only thing taking me to the finish line. But aside from the biggest musical acts selling out shows at $150 a person, we don’t seem to put our money where our heart is. I used to spend all of my spare money on albums. Now I can pay $10 a month for immediate access to almost every song I’m inclined to hear. And when I see a new vinyl release for $30 I say to myself, “No thanks.” Never mind that when inflation is taken into account, this is actually cheaper than the $9 album I used to buy in the early 80s and that I have way more disposable income.

Bottom line: if you love an artist, buy their products. Buy a t-shirt, a CD, a record, and go and see them when they’re on tour, even if you have to stand among drunk 20-somethings in a crowded club. Better to spend $30 a piece on six new artists than $180 to see that aging rocker one more time at an arena show.

Be comfortable with urging streaming services to raise your fees for the purpose of paying artists better. I know that income levels vary, but for me personally, I would be happy to pay another $10 a month IF that money went to artists and not to the streaming service.

Seek out new music. Yes, nostalgia has its place, but as the Town & Country article suggests, it’s also keeping us from life-fulfilling experiences. And it’s making corporations rich instead of musicians.

I don’t know what else to say. But as Pete Townsend sang in 1978, “The music must change,” or maybe it should be rewritten as “The music business must change.” Either that, or we’ll all be singing the same damn songs for the rest of our lives. How many more times do you really need to hear “50 Ways to Leave Your Lover” or “Can’t Buy Me Love”? Isn’t there something more out there?

Are We Entitled to Make a Living Doing What We Love To Do?

The movie 20 Feet From Stardom – and if you haven’t seen it, you should – has sparked many conversations with my musical brethren, most of whom point to two scenes that they found particularly poignant, both involving the amazing vocalist Merry Clayton.  Never heard of her?  Don’t worry about it.  You have, in fact, heard her. 

The first aforementioned scene shows Clayton and Mick Jagger listening to the isolated vocal track of Clayton’s performance on The Rolling Stones’ song, “Gimme Shelter.”  It’s one of those performances that summons emotions in me that I’m unable to put into words.  Hearing the track, coupled with watching the singers respond to it, gave me chills and brought me to tears.  Just thinking about it gives me the chills.  Not too shabby for a song I’ve probably heard a couple hundred times.

The second scene has Clayton recalling how her attempts at stardom in the 70s resulted in three albums that sold poorly.  She says, her voice cracking, “I felt like if I just gave my heart to what I was doing, I would automatically be a star.”

No one could blame her or countless others for this belief.  After all, we hear it all the time: Follow your dream.  Do what you love.  Cinderella sang about it.  So did Aerosmith and a thousand other bands.  Hell, even I’ve written about it. Graduation speeches promote it.  Websites are devoted to it.  An industry of inspiring posters capitalizes on it.  It’s what parents want for their children.  It’s what children want for themselves when they become adults.  And I think there’s a kernel of good advice in that sentiment.  Do what you love to do.

And yet…

Are we entitled to make a living at it?  What a luxury it is to even be asking the question! In the history of humankind, how long has this idea of doing what one loves to do for a living been given even the slightest consideration?  For me, it brings to mind centuries of apprentices toiling in atrocious working conditions, slaves enduring worse, millennia of farmers laboring over the land, generations of immigrants, past and present, suffering through the most strenuous jobs for the littlest of pay.

I wonder how many people historically have had the luxury of saying, “I want to do this for a living.”  How many people living today can devote a realistic thought to the notion?  The starving worry about food, the terrorized worry about safety, and the poor worry about making a better living. 

So the fact that some of us are able to entertain the notion of doing what we love to do is already a blessing of blessings.  Let’s start there.  But should we be able to make a living doing what we love to do?  Well, that all depends, doesn’t it?  I could get into an analysis I suppose of capitalism, supply, demand, education, market saturation, etc., but what it all comes down is that sometimes jobs are in demand, sometimes they aren’t, and sometimes there’s never demand for what you love to do. 

Our grandparents, especially those who were the first in their family to go to college, probably didn’t give this a second thought, and majored in what was going to guarantee them a job. Right now, it seems like nursing is a good profession to go into.  I have a niece pursuing this as I write, and her prospects look good.  In a decade, who knows?  Engineering looks very promising at present.  Architecture, not so much. Then again, I know an architect in Milwaukee who is living her dream.  You just never know.  The entertainment industry, of course, is even more fickle.  Some musicians can make a decent living at it.  Others become superstars.  Others still can barely get by.  It isn’t fair, but that’s the way it is.  In 20 Feet from Stardom, singer/songwriter Stings says, “It’s not about fairness.  It’s not really about talent.  It’s circumstances.  It’s luck.  It’s destiny.  I don’t know what it is.”

And shouldn’t this be the case?  After all, if I could make a living watching baseball on TV, I would do it in a heartbeat.  I know people who love to fish.  Does that mean they should be earning a living at it?  I know people who love nothing more than to play a round of golf.  Does that mean they should get paid for it?

For me, I think the answer is this: do what you love.  Pursue it.  Immerse yourself in it.  And if you’re able to, do it for a living.  But either way, don’t stop.  I stopped playing music and writing fiction for a while back in ’94 and ’95, and then again in the early 2000s.  You know what?  I found myself out of sorts.  Unfulfilled.  Unpleasant at times.  Well, duh.  I wasn’t doing what I loved to do.  Now I make a little supplemental family income and I get to write fiction and play with fabulous musicians and create good – sometimes great – music.  It isn’t superstardom, but so what?

I have musician friends, some of whom play or sing for a living, and it isn’t easy.  I’m sure they had thoughts of stardom when they were air-guitaring in front of the mirror in 1985, but despite the difficulties, they’ve chosen to keep doing what they can to earn a living playing music.  Other people I know had thoughts of stardom but decided to go into teaching or engineering or accounting.  But they haven’t stopped playing.

I wish Merry Clayton had made it big.  I wish lots of people had made it big.  But there’s no reason they should have, just like there’s no reason I should be paid to watch baseball.  That’s life.  I have two daughters who in a year’s time will be majoring in fields of study that guarantee them nothing except a degree in four years.  What happens beyond that is anyone’s guess.  But I hope in twenty years, both of them are still pursuing their love, whether it’s during the week from 8 to 5, or on evenings and weekends.  Either way, they will be successes in my book. 

And you know what?  Merry Clayton is a star in my book, too.  To hell with superstardom.