Someone recently asked in a comment on my substack, why anyone would go into the music industry if not for wanting extreme fame and wealth, when even that seems like it is not without massive sacrifice. They referenced all the sacrifice and hardship that seems to come with any level of participation in the industry. I think the question might have been deleted because I can’t find it now, but it’s a question I appreciate and worth responding to.
So much rhetoric these days is how broken the industry is, how unfair, how financially, mentally, emotionally challenging it all is. And…this is all true. If you read any of my essays, you know I am constantly grappling with my distrust, the hardships I’ve faced because of this career, the mistreatment. It’s not a secret that I’m critical of industry standards and culture. And if I’m being really honest and critical of myself, I could say pursuing a professional music career in this industry has at times, brought out the worst in me and caused probably some unnecessary suffering in my life. I’ve, at times, been obsessive, jealous of others, had extremely low self-esteem based on what I was or wasn’t getting from my music. At times, I have been incredibly selfish and self-focused, I’ve abused alcohol, I’ve not acted in my integrity, I’ve not shown up for friends, family, loved ones in the way I know I should because my career, or rather, my wanting was outweighing everything else in my life.
But, maybe those are less music industry specific experiences and more just human experiences. Maybe I would have had to learn those hard lessons, no matter what career path I had chosen. And maybe because the music industry is built on songs, pieces of art that are made by often highly emotional and sensitive beings, it is impossible for it not to bring out strong emotional responses. Not to mention the music industry revolving around late night shows, in bars, and no HR department to regulate or monitor interpersonal working relationships!
I am hesitant to say, well you go into the music industry because you love music! Sometimes I think that the “you do it because you love it” mentality can be a means to justify exploitation, keeping musicians underpaid, taken advantage of. Play a million unpaid gigs, have your music out there for free, rack up debt to make said music and get to all those unpaid gigs, all because you love it! But I could love music and have a different job. I could love music and not believe that being financially insecure, having a highly anxious nervous system and subjecting yourself to constant scrutiny and rejection is just a rite of passage. Or even, an essential part of the job that comes and goes and comes and goes and comes again.
A friend of mine who has been a songwriter and performer since her teenage years, told me about a young aspiring songwriter and her mother coming to her, seeking advice and guidance. This friend of mine has had her share of big ups and big downs in her 20 year career. She’s currently on a high but it only comes because she refused to give up when she was at an extreme low. I’ll never forget, only 4 or 5 years ago, sitting on her couch as she cried to me, saying she might just need to accept this wasn’t for her. She had made a record and was getting rejected by every label she approached as well as by booking agents. So maybe a solo career just wasn’t in the cards for her. In the past few years, she did finally sign with a label and an agent, has gone on to tour with some of the biggest pop stars in the world and is now selling out her own shows. A solo career was indeed meant for her. Her advice to that young songwriter was, “if there is anything else in this world that you love as much as music, do that instead.” Because otherwise, how are you going to survive those lowest of lows?
So, why? Why do we go into the music industry in today’s world?
I can only give the answer that I have for myself, right now.
And the answer ironically is, there’s nothing else I love as much. But it’s not just the music that I love. The music is the center. But it’s not only the music. That might be the important part to note. It’s the whole big adventure. It’s the travel, it’s the communion with other musicians, it’s the connection with the audiences, it’s the relationships that develop around music, it’s the euphoria you can feel when realizing a musical idea, it’s the processing and expressing of one’s inner most feelings, experiences and ideas in song form, putting it out in the world and seeing what stories come back to you. It’s the community you become part of, the network that spans the globe that you can sometimes forget about when you’re alone in your house but then you go out to a show or play a festival and you not only get to reconnect with 50 of your long lost best friends, you get to witness them creating and sharing art, expressing something inside of themselves we can’t see until it transpires into a song. You get to witness each other. It’s the best friends that come out of dedicating your life to this, who all love the same craft as you and want to spend their time and money renting a cabin for a week just to write and sing songs together. It’s all of the school friends, relatives and family friends you’ve stayed connected to because you come through their town on tour every year or so. It’s the woman you met while on tour 10 years ago, a friend of a friend who put you up for the night, then stayed in touch for years to follow and when you posted on Instagram that you broke your foot and had a baby at home and no help, she booked a one way flight on her own dime, stayed as long as you needed and has slowly become an honorary third grandmother for your child, coming out to nanny whenever you need. It’s the playing a sports bar in a small town in Pennsylvania where you knew no one, acknowledging on stage that the Seattle Seahawks football game was blasting on the TVs around you but that’s okay because you grew up there and somehow discovering, the friendly outspoken woman in the crowd who called out she was from there as well, happened to be the daughter of your violin teacher from when you were 10 years old. And then having breakfast with that violin teacher the next morning! It’s all of the crazy, surprising, unexpected moments that happen, because of the risks you continually take in the name of sharing your music.
And if I’m really honest, yes, it’s also the extremes: it’s the lows that turn into highs and the highs that turn into lows. It’s the feeling like you’re about to quit, your bank account is empty, haven’t had good news in months and then you get the email, call or text that you’ve just landed 3 songs on tv shows, or you just booked a massive festival or you were just offered a great tour. It’s the laughter that happens years later with the acquaintance who becomes a lifelong friend after being put on tour together by your managers and sharing hotel rooms, recounting the one with cigarette ash, hair and dried blood on the bed sheets. It’s the exhaustion from being on the road for weeks, not going to bed until 2am and waking at 6am for yet another long drive, feeling at your breaking point as you pull into the next town and then seeing the most magnificently, electric, hot pink sunset exploding across the sky that you remember and reminisce about for years to follow. It's the driving through Wyoming on a hot summer day, missing the last gas station for 100 miles and being swindled into paying $25 for one gallon of gas from the woman who manages the run down motel right off the highway exit and clearly knows an opportunity when she sees one. It’s the making friends with incredibly talented, creative people all over the world, who you see only once or twice a year but come to feel like family and you get to even watch your child grow to love them just as much you do. It’s the pulling into a strangers house for a living room concert and leaving the evening feeling like bonded best friends who just went through therapy together.
There are so many reasons why I haven’t and won’t ever choose a different path in this life no matter how hard it is, but I also won’t stop criticizing, sharing the realities and pushing for change. In my experience, life in the music industry is hard, uncomfortable, at times a great struggle and ridden with land mines of opportunity for mistreatment, heartache and losing oneself. But it’s also a wild, enriching, heart expanding adventure. It’s about the music but it’s also about the people and the places.
Could I experience people, places, adventure without the challenges of a music career?
Certainly, but the music wouldn’t be the center.
As always, thank you so much for being here. Your readership and your paid subscriptions make this, and my continued path in music, a little bit more possible. These essays are written quickly, from the heart so please excuse any typos or grammatical errors!
ALSO!
I’m offering a group Songwriting Mini Course in April. It’s two sessions, 90 minutes each. We will do some writing exercises, instruction, discussion, prompt and then the second session will be workshopping the song you start writing from our first session. I will be keeping this group small to ensure everyone has sufficient time so spaces will be limited.
I saw one set you did at Mile of Music in Appleton. There is another very good reason for being a musician, if you can survive. You change the lives of people with your songs. "I know you know that I know" you changed my life and the way of looking at life. Keep writing and singing.
Thanks for the reply! It is an informative inside look at why performers put up with so much within the industry.