What does being an artist really mean?
Is the concept of work serving the human race?
Is there any meaningful value of work beyond paying to live?
Why do artists gravitate towards wanting to make their passion their job?
How can artists navigate these complexities?
When considering the identity of an artist, it seems essential for their music to reach a large audience and for them to earn a living from their art. However, what if this concept is a con, created by those seeking to profit from artists at their expense? Could “work” in fact serve as a distraction from one’s art?
I am in the process of developing my philosophy on this subject, which is the motivation behind writing my book. The book intends to address various key questions about the connection between meaning and work as an artist. I had a distinct understanding of the themes I wanted to delve into at the start of my writing journey. However, the underlying philosophy that ties artistry to “work” (and subsequently “industry”) emerged during the writing process, not prior to it.
Before being published, the book will go through multiple iterations. This ensures that I have lived and reviewed every angle of the advice I give before I put it out in the world in black and white.
The politics at the edge of the music industry
Undeniably, my ideas are influenced by my political beliefs regarding workers’ rights and the need for better living conditions for everyone. The deepening neoliberalism in the UK is eroding many fundamental British principles born from our finest periods; from workers’ unions and nationalised public services to the NHS, our overstretched police force and acclaimed education system.
We’re already observing severe issues such as widespread homelessness, water companies’ gross negligence, energy crises, corrupt shareholder profits, and a healthcare system unable to cope with demand. During my 34 years in the working class, I’ve witnessed the decline of state-provided security and services, which have become mere shadows of what once made us a globally respected nation.
We live in an era dominated by privatisation and neglect, primarily benefiting high-level executives. This has led to a prevailing belief that neoliberalism is the only solution to our problems. This sentiment is mirrored in the music industry where artists equate entrepreneurship with artistry. Meanwhile, music executives overlook long-standing industry issues, while tech startups repeatedly attempt and fail to address them from the fringes of giant conglomerates that resist change.
My distaste for the music industry extends beyond the belief that “the majors are a monopoly and rob everyone’s opportunity” (which I hold). I maintain that the whole economic and political system they rely on and prosper in is harmful to humanity.
Before the mid-2000s, it was frowned upon for artists to “sell out” and align themselves with profit-driven corporations that harm the environment and livelihoods. Anti-conformism and music “for the people” were in vogue. Nowadays, artists celebrate events in the music industry that highlight material gains. The drive for money often overshadows the desire to create boundary-pushing, existential, politically charged, and emotionally resonant art.
How music industry servants on LinkedIn help me find the ultimate truth
LinkedIn is like my public notepad. Here, I test ideas to get feedback. With this in mind, I use LinkedIn very differently from the majority of people who organise their words to suit the favour of the audience.
Largely, I have a very bitter relationship with what music industry LinkedIn has become. But I should have expected it. LinkedIn is a “professional network” where capitalists go to compare each others’ tools at the proverbial urinals. Why did I expect to find artists there who love and care about the depths and beauty of art? Why did I expect to find anti-conformists who hate the current state of disparity and want to find a new way?
Maybe it’s because I was one of the first people posting about the music industry on LinkedIn, back when LinkedIn was more of a CV and job board, before it was largely recognised as a social media platform.
Or maybe it’s because I got roped into the idea that entrepreneurs were change-makers and trailblazers for political change. I don’t blame them for not being so, everybody’s got to make a living. But seeing so many people make their living in such a concentrated way feels like being in Piccadilly Circus, except all the billboards are like Joi from Blade Runner 2049 getting in your personal space and trying to sell themselves to you.
Although I’ve successfully blocked most of the feed and disconnected from high-profile capitalists who irritate me with their constant digital yet materialistic news – which frankly doesn’t matter – occasionally my blocker fails. I’m then exposed to clickbait music industry posts with thousands of likes. I wonder, why do people, particularly artists who are supposed to be in touch with reality, emotions, and the profundities of existence, also get drawn into this exaggerated version of the American dream?
LinkedIn is a significant platform in the music industry, where everyone eagerly follows news about changes at major labels and large tech companies. Many believe these changes could make a difference for artists. However, as long as these norms are accepted as the norm for artists, no significant changes will occur. The house will always win.
I continue to post on LinkedIn to build an audience for my upcoming book. This book aims to help artists break away from the dominant money-over-art mindset in the music industry and online communities. Despite my efforts to garner attention through these posts, I am committed to maintaining a consistent philosophy to avoid sending mixed messages.
The central theme of this book revolves around the flawed concept of work in the modern age. It examines how we are conditioned to find meaning in our work, identify with it, and then experience a sense of emptiness when our work doesn’t align with our passions.
Why attention matters in the music industry (and why you should reject it)
The music industry is fundamentally flawed as it is driven by attention rather than craftsmanship. In contrast, artisans take pride in their work before considering its market value.
By refocusing musicians on their art, disregarding any intentions for recognition or profit, we can fundamentally change music creation and the artist’s mindset. This is a complete paradigm shift that doesn’t necessarily guarantee an audience or income but does promise a deeper connection to one’s music and the process of creating it.
Currently, many artists lack this connection because they’re conditioned to seek attention and financial return before even playing their first note.
In the book, I start by exploring why we initially crave attention, a concept somewhat detached from the modern music industry. This viewpoint equips artists with resilience against the Internet’s immense inability to sustain and capture attention.
Artists finding peace with a day job
Based on my experience, I suggest that musicians avoid jobs in the music industry that do not involve being an artist on their own terms. Instead, I advise artists to find a day job that is low-stress, secure, and satisfying. This way, they can focus on their art without the pressure to earn money from it.
Issues arise when an artist dislikes their job to the point that it affects their creative time due to exhaustion, stress, or depression.
However, it’s crucial to differentiate between the need to change jobs and the desire to move into music-related jobs. Music will always be there, and numerous non-music related jobs can bring more happiness than your current position. Therefore, it’s best not to conflate these two distinct problems.
It’s crucial to approach music from a standpoint of security, rather than trying to derive security from your music.
In my journey to become a music producer, I found myself shifting into the role of a music industry executive. However, navigating this complex world clouded my true passion. Amidst the chaos, I found myself entrenched in the business side of the music industry, which wasn’t my true calling.
My real passion lies in nature, love, art, music, freedom, and joy. Now, it’s time for me to resume my journey, face new challenges, and explore these opportunities. I’ve realised my calling is broader and more diverse than just being a music producer, a path I initially thought was the natural progression after earning a degree in the field.
Even though I’ve had to put this dream on hold for some time, I ultimately want to create music that resonates with people and earn income from it. It doesn’t have to be my only source of income; it might just provide me the time to pursue other interests.
An artist remains an artist, regardless of their job. By eliminating unwholesome aspects, balancing acceptance of the unchangeable, and steering life on our terms, we can find inspiration in everything, fuelling our art.