What Do I Miss? I Miss Live Music. The Fight to Save the Concert Business during a Global Pandemic
What do you miss? What do you NOT miss? This is the question that’s kept me up at night and jolted me out of bed every morning during my quarantine. This period of time, that I’ve heard perfectly referred to as The Great Pause, has been a time of stress, uncertainty, fear and reflection for all of us. With nowhere to really go, and nothing to do, I find myself contemplating which parts of “normal life” I actually want to return to and which energy wasters I’ll throw out the window. The more I ask this question, the closer I get to who I am and why I do what I do.
I’m an artist manager who moved to Los Angeles to grow and build my company two years ago. My company is called This Fiction and we represent a diverse group of incredible bands and artists including X Ambassadors, JP Saxe, Jukebox the Ghost, and more. I often tell people that artist management means not being an expert on anything, but knowing a little bit about every part of the music industry. Therefore on any given day, I could be doing all sorts of things from arguing with a producer who claims an Artificial Intelligence computer wrote the chorus to one of my artist’s songs (yes, this happened), to negotiating fees to use a cartoon version of a band playing a song they wrote about Black Holes for a Dreamworks children’s cartoon (this happened too), to scrambling to help a band get home from Lithuania ten minutes after Donald Trump announced a travel ban for anyone arriving in the United States due to a global pandemic (yes, this also happened). The job can be frustrating and exhilarating and everything in between.
There’s a lot of pomp and circumstance and bullshit that comes along with being an artist manager, especially one living in Los Angeles working in pop music. The amount of time wasted is astounding. There’s a certain amount of “keeping up with the Joneses” that just can’t be avoided.
I for one don’t miss schlepping around Los Angeles for hours in traffic to get to a meeting that could very well be a phone call, the red carpets and the “galas” that are really just selfie opportunities, the Soho House lunches where we each are subtly trying to one up each other with our recent accomplishments (I’m just as guilty as everyone else here), the 30 under 30 and 40 under 40 lists (those lists upset me every year too), the formalities, the small talk about the latest Tik Tok star…you get it. I don’t miss the industry, I miss the music. I miss LIVE music, being played on stage in front of a tightly packed crowd of people choosing to be in the moment, together. As the great American treasure Dave Grohl called it in his recent piece for The Atlantic, it’s the “irreplaceable thrill of the rock show.”
Don’t get me wrong, I love so many aspects of my job and my daily grind. I love hearing demos months, sometimes years, before the world hears a new song. I love popping in to the studio to hear an artist share something they are proud of. I love pulling off a seemingly ridiculous marketing idea that actually works. I love spending time giving back, and putting energy into my and my artists’ philanthropic efforts. But the danger of where we are headed as an industry right now is that artists and management companies are being backed in to a corner and becoming content machines. With human connection and large groups becoming a distant memory of yesteryear, we’re all stuck at home creating media to be consumed at a rapid pace, racing to get attention on Instagram, Facebook, and Twitch when what we’re really doing is helping these media giants, giving them more reason to build out their investment structure and… sell us ads. Artists aren’t here to make CONTENT, they are here to share their MUSIC, their spirit, their soul.
(As a side note, last year at a Grammy party someone came up to me to talk about our wonderful artist Minke — he said “Man, I love the content she put out yesterday. Just love all of her content she’s been releasing”. I said “do you mean the new SONG she released?” He said “yeah exactly, such great content” I really wanted to scream in his face “IT’S CALLED MUSIC” but of course I politely gave him a cheers, smiled, and walked away. Anyway, I digress.)
The longer we’re stuck at home, the more I think about what it is I actually miss from our industry, and it’s the shows. This week I was rewatching The Last Waltz, Martin Scorcese’s concert film about The Band’s final performance, arguably the greatest music film of all time (about the greatest band of all time). The film captures the pure joy of live music, the spontaneity, the surprise. One minute the band are in the pocket themselves blasting through “Rag Mama Rag”, and the next minute Bob Dylan, Joni Mitchell, Van Morrison, and more jump on stage to join in the revelry. If I could go back in time and attend ONE concert — that would be the one.
And then I start thinking about the live music memories that changed my life, both as a fan and as a professional. Memories like Oasis at Manchester City Stadium in 2005 — I went to two of the three nights. I had just graduated high school and my friend Mike and I planned a backpacking trip that started in Manchester of all places. Oasis and the U.K. were (and still are) lifelong obsessions of mine, so walking down to the floor to watch them in their hometown with 55,000 sweaty fans was life affirming. From singing “Don’t Look Back in Anger” on the shoulders of a six foot stranger, to falling down in a mosh pit near the front row and getting picked up by a bald guy who said “what’s a bloody American teenager doing here in Manchester?” — those memories will last a lifetime.
The list goes on and on. Tom Petty’s final show in New York before he passed away. Squeezing in to the 600 person venue Highline Ballroom in New York for a secret Paul McCartney show in 2007, Wilco at Madison Square Garden on New Years Eve. Jackson Browne at the Beacon Theater with my dad and brother on Father’s Day. Stumbling into Maggie Mae’s in Austin during SXSW and discovering Bon Iver, playing solo sitting on a stool with an acoustic guitar. Basically proposing to my now wife between Metallica and Sigur Ros sets at Outside Lands Festival in San Francisco (I’m pretty sure The Oh Sees were playing right behind us when I drunkenly “popped the question”). Volunteering to be an intern at Joe’s Pub for the day just to watch watch Pete Townshend, Rufus Wainwright, and more play an intimate charity show (David Bowie was in the audience, I served him a glass of wine at the after party and my head nearly exploded). My life is time stamped with concerts.
And then there’s the shows I’ve been a part of creating. X Ambassadors headlining a sold out Red Rocks Amphitheater to 10,000 people was both amazing and hard to digest in the moment. Seeing an artist go from playing crappy New York City clubs to being in front of a sea of people is the most gratifying part of my job. From the side of the stage, witnessing Savoir Adore lead a festival singalong to “Dreamers” at the MECA Festival in Brazil, and realizing just how far a song can travel and bring people together. It’s hard to describe. The unabashed, unashamed, good times smiling ear to ear at Jukebox the Ghost’s annual Queen covers show “HalloQueen” at Music Hall of Williamsburg in 2015, laughing and dancing and screaming and dropping balloons on the crowd during the crescendo of “Bohemian Rhapsody”. Creating a festival, Cayuga Sound, in Ithaca, NY and watching Questlove from the Roots beat the drums from behind the risers. In the fifteen years of being a manager, I can only really mark the success of my work by how it feels live, in the room or on a field, on a stage, with people.
At this very moment, I can proudly say that we as a company are having a hit song “moment” with JP Saxe’s single “If the World Was Ending” — the song is inching it’s way up the Spotify Global Charts and the Billboard Hot 100, yet to me none of it will FEEL real or impactful until I can see thousands of people sing it back to the artist, and feel that palpable chill on the back of my neck of a crowd in unison, together. Don’t get me wrong, I’m incredibly grateful of the position we’re in. The numbers, the data, the radio spins, the victories, they are all important. But seeing a stream count go up or seeing a big number on YouTube isn’t the same as seeing faces light up and hearing voices sing together. This will become real to me when I see the line of people wrapped around the block to get inside early for a JP Saxe show, or when I see him on stage at his first major festival turning a sea of strangers into friends.
So what does this all mean now for an industry that’s struggling to stay afloat, facing an identity crisis and finding it hard to see the light at the end of the tunnel? Iconic music venues are closing up shop, and superpower live music agencies like WME, UTA, and Paradigm are firing or furloughing their most respected and powerful agents because… there are just no concerts anymore. How do we support artists during this time? How do create a connection between fans and artists when the live music experience is being restricted to a 6 inch screen on our cell phones? How do we make sure there’s a live music business to return to?
Support artists. There are a number of great organizations — from Sweet Relief to MusiCares — who are raising funds to help musicians in need. Many artists and touring professionals are living month to month without health insurance or any consistent, regular form of income. Everyone is struggling, but if you have an extra dollar, you can support your favorite artists by contributing money to any of these organizations, or simply by streaming an album multiple times on Spotify, buying a t-shirt, or subscribing to your favorite artists’ Patreon. Every little bit counts. Help out the artists so when the time is right, they can come back and put on a hell of a show.
Support independent promoters and venues. 9 out of 10 independent music venues will close for good in the next few months if they don’t get help from Congress. If you like going out to shows, then take a moment to use your voice and post #SaveOurStages on your personal social media, asking for Congress to help the National Independent Venue Association secure funding. And if your favorite small venue is hosting a GoFundMe campaign, help them fight to survive.
Redirecting funds to the live industry. Although the live music business is non existent at this moment in time, some sides of the music and entertainment industry are booming. Yes, streaming revenue is down by roughly 10% due to people no longer commuting in their cars, or listening to the music at the gym. However, during times of stress people go to what’s familiar, and catalog streaming is growing as people listen to the music that’s comforting to them. I’d love to see record labels, content distribution platforms like Netflix and YouTube, and music publishers, slice off a piece of their passive income and invest it into saving the touring industry.
Share your experiences. Remind your friends, your family, your circle, about the shows that changed your life. Relive those moments through posting photos and sharing videos. We can’t let that feeling of being at a live show with the people we love fade into a distant memory of the past.
Employ crew members for content creation. If you are in a position where your job involves content creation — look to hiring out of work touring crew and professionals to assist where possible. Hire musicians and touring personnel for music video shoots at a safe social distance, build performance spaces that can handle multiple musicians at 6 feet apart, and share remote work with the music community.
Appreciate the value of live music, even if it’s just a live stream. Artists are scrambling right now. Every artist is getting asked to perform online for free for charity, for brands, and for magazines (aka “give us more CONTENT!”), and many artists are feeling lost so they are resorting to performing for free online wherever possible. There’s nothing inherently wrong with musicians doing this free of charge, as its important for any artist to keep a conversation going with their fanbase, but we certainly risk devaluing the live music experience, especially if fans start expecting free CONTENT from their artists. When Napster rocked the industry to its core in the early 2000’s by giving music away for free, it taught an entire generation that music could be a free trade-able commodity. So, next time you are watching an Instagram Live or Twitch performance from your favorite band, just ask yourself how you can help them by giving a small tip, ordering some merchandise, or buying an album.
Tour humbly. When the live music business returns, artists are going to have to make the difficult decision to tour more humbly. Artists are hurting, but the whole world is hurting, too. The video walls, the big light shows, the pyro — that’s going to have to go out the window for a bit. Artists are going to need to cut their costs down, and build more humble, intimate shows in order to lower the cost of concert tickets if we as an industry are going to justify asking fans to spend their hard earned money to stand in large groups in confined spaces.
It’s going to take time, but live music will return. It must. Human beings are social creatures, and that cathartic feeling of singing, dancing, and screaming along to our favorite music can never be replaced. I got into this business because seeing live music makes me feel something nothing else can, and I plan to do everything in my power to make sure it returns. The world, the stage, the theater, the audience — it will all look different. But you better believe I’ll be there both side stage and in the audience savoring every note.