For many, the music industry conjures images of superstars, entourages, jets, crowds, mansions, and money. If you don’t think this is deliberately intended, then let me offer a bit of a lesson here, but first, some context.
For nearly five decades, I have been a “working class” musician. In other words, although I’ve had my fair share of festival gigs and traveled to other parts of the country and the world, the substance of what I do is relegated to working the dumps, dives, and toilets where the vast majority of my peers — thousands of musical brothers and sisters — eke out an existence, in hope of scraping together a living. I’ve had many an opportunity to play with my heroes, to garner some regional recognition and even awards, but, mostly, I continue to struggle along, sharing the stage — often a corner of the club floor — with others, just like me, who keep going, in the hope that something better will come along.
When I started out, the chance of fulfilling the dream was much more realistic. Even if stardom was elusive, I could still pay my bills, make discretionary purchases, and sometimes put something away for a rainy day. As the economy went through ups and downs and changes indicated that opportunities were getting fewer and fewer, I was still able to make a go of it, right into the 90’s. Although the paychecks got lower, I was still able to hold myself at the upper end of the poverty scale. I was still able to support my family, but it took more work to do so. I’m lucky in that I am still viable and can garner consistent work — not enough to get ahead, but enough to keep me from falling further behind.
I saw a transition, from gigs where I was considered an employee, with some benefits, to independent contractor. I went, slowly but surely, into becoming a “businessman”. This was not what I intended when I began. Now, at 64 years of age, I’m stuck in a business with no exit strategy. Such is the fate of my peers — as long as the paradigm created by the music industry continues to hold.
This brings us to ask the question of just how relevant this industry is. There is historic precedent for those at the top centralizing power from a base of common aspiration. Countless stories exist of acts signed to labels, their songs stolen, recordings shelved, and, in the end, leaving them owing their bodies and souls to the company store. Every development, many driven by technological changes, where the rights of the creators can be upheld and their needs benefited, has been met with resistance and attack. ASCAP, as example, arose as the champion of composers, artists, and publishers, only to become the arbiter of what music was to be considered “legitimate”, and giving rise to BMI, which took the mantle of representing “colloquial” and “common” works. This was met, again, with resistance and attack, as were developments in broadcast, juke boxes, cassettes, consumer CD’s, file sharing, and so on — a lot of effort put into denial and little given toward solution.
So, what’s any different now? Not much, if anything. The technological shift that has provided easier access and exposure has caused the powers that be to entrench themselves in a near constant state of intransigence, obfuscation, and bullying, only to have to come to grips with a new reality that they accept on a limited basis, negotiate terms that are not in the artists’ best interests, proclaim that it’s the best they can do, do so without transparency, continue to complain, and ceaselessly “re-brand”, while stifling creativity. This comes from a mindset that is so steeped in product it ignores process, forgetting about the relationships that create innovation and success.
The music industry is a factory, built on outmoded models, not unlike the old mills that ran on water. When new means of power emerged, they just connected them to the old plants, in lieu of designing and devising new structures, missing out on efficiency and effectiveness, in this case, foregoing a structure built on the very relationships that brought them success, in the first place. Its very identity is as industry and industry is not infrastructure. Void of a grid, a power plant is of little, if any, use. Void of embracing and harnessing relationships with integrity — the very infrastructure that moves the majority of those involved in the business forward or, at least, keeps them afloat — abundant opportunities for benefit, profit included, are being missed. Instead, so-called “leaders” find themselves in a bunker mentality, occasionally venturing out in territorial grabs.
Talent shows have taken over where artist and repertoire used to hold prominence. Even here, bets are hedged. Contestants, from the outset, sign agreements that, in essence, hand over shares of future profits, the old “playing for exposure” gambit on steroids.
The examples of success, in the face of corporate obstacles, are there — the rise of independents, the Grateful Dead, Amanda Palmer, and others — but, instead of noting the lessons and adjusting to them, the corporate moguls of music chose to stick to accounting, foregoing accountability in the process. Social media, streaming, file sharing are just the tip of the technological iceberg — the one innovated and used by the common grunt, especially the younger generation, in the trenches.
This leads us to the original question. Is the music industry relevant, at all? If so, then not much and not for long.