Looking at the deficits of streaming services and the potential ways artists and governments might resist their power, it can be easy to forget about the essential force without which these companies would be powerless: artists making and sharing music for the love of it. Given the unmistakable value collectively conferred to musicians for their creative output, how might we map our way to a relationship with music that is fair, equitable, and authentic?
What could we accomplish and build together if we thought about the potential of the internet as a means of creating community around music?” – Liz Pelly
Pelly said that thinking through alternatives to the streaming status quo should avoid getting too caught up in coming up with solutions that are fostered solely in response to the problems these services pose. Instead, she argues, a better way forward can be forged by taking a broader view.
“I feel like it can sort of limit our imaginations for what’s possible when we’re in this mode of just reacting to like these platform-specific issues,” she said. “And really, in order to foster a more fair, interesting and exciting online music world, I think it’ll require much more than just thinking about these platforms, specific fixes, and more sort of big picture. What could we accomplish and build together if we thought about the potential of the internet as a means of creating community around music?”
“There’s much more potential to these services and to digital technologies than we’re experiencing” – Brian Fauteux
Fauteux points to music streaming algorithms as an avenue for positive change. “As it stands, a lot of these algorithms are biased towards the kind of more already successful artists that are connected to the big three labels and are doing really well on Spotify,” he said. Fauteux confronted the image Spotify has fashioned for itself as a bastion of democratic success. “That isn’t really playing out in terms of how streams seem to be accumulated.”
He suggested there might be ways to retool algorithms that may create space for local and independent artists. “There’s much more potential to these services and to digital technologies than we’re experiencing,” he said.
Todd Green said an end to the devaluation of musical work may have to come from the artists themselves. “I think artists probably need to collectively organize and make it very clear, ‘You know, you’re basically using our art for your means to an end.’”
“The most important thing to me is if people are listening to the music, and they’re enjoying it, and they’re getting something out of it. That is cooler to me than any monetary value that comes out of it,” said Judge.
When asked about whether they would be willing to walk away from Spotify as a way to release their music, collaborator and friend Watson expressed ambivalence. “It’s hard with art because you as an artist, sometimes you’re just making art and you just want people to hear it.”
The technological and marketing developments that brought the music industry to this moment have forced a number of changes to the way it operates. Though governmental regulation of music streaming services is on the horizon, the extent to which the gale wind forces of technological change can be controlled may be limited.
It remains to be seen how artists’ collective organizing could provide meaningful resistance to where the economics of music is trending. The way consumers relate to and value music may also bear some influence on how listening to music translates into a living income for artists. But in the wake of these debated answers to ongoing questions, musicians may have to renegotiate their expectations, and redefine where they derive their satisfaction.
Celina Kay of future star said she never wanted to tie her livelihood to making music. Photo by Lauren Ray.
Celina Kay is the person behind the artist future star, a bedroom pop solo project that emerged from her involvement in the DIY music scene in Vancouver. “I’ve sort of learned this is kind of my way of writing music, expressing myself, engaging with music in a way that is healthy for me, and is fun.” Her last name has been omitted to preserve her anonymity and protect her professional status.
The Vancouver, B.C. artist began playing in bands when she was 17 years old. Though she has been making music under the moniker for about half a decade, making a living from her music was never Kay’s goal. “I always had the opposite of that, which is like I consciously really never wanted to make music my full time job,” she said.
Kay’s parents both made music their profession: both parents were music teachers, her dad worked in a music store for many years, and the two would perform live, picking up gigs here and there. For a time, her dad had a record label deal and would spend a lot of time on the road touring. “Growing up, I never wanted to do that, because it seemed like they always seem so stressed out about money,” she said. “And so it was just not something that was desirable to me.” For Kay, stability was always something she wanted out of a career. “Which, [being a] musician doesn’t offer you unless you get real lucky.”
“I have very strong ideas about ‘making it.’ I don’t ever want to pursue making it in a way that I have to rely on it. That scares me a lot. And it also I feel like it affects your art. I don’t want to be creating art that’s like pablum. That’s boring.”
Kay draws a line from the way consuming music has changed, to the lived experiences and struggles of music artists today. “What has resulted is that no musician gets paid for anything because it’s valued so little,” she said.
“The way I see Spotify is like a necessary evil,” said Kay. “But it’s also convenient for listeners, I listen to Spotify all the time. I love it when local bands that I listen to are on Spotify, because then I can listen to them, and it’s convenient. But I’m not just going to listen to them on Spotify, and think that’s going to be enough. It’s not supporting them in any way. That’s just for me. It’s like a nice bonus for me. But at the same time, like, I go buy records that I like, especially local bands.”
Kay said universal basic income would be a positive step toward assisting musicians in Canada. “I feel like that would be incredible,” she said. “It’s more like really big fundamental things have to change in our society.”
When I think about that younger teenage version of me who misses the democratic distribution of the early-to-mid 2000s music blog culture, I am reminded of the fact that every medium for sharing and selling music opens up and forecloses possibilities in unique ways.
Fifteen years from now, people who listened to music streaming services will probably look back with nostalgia at how they used to use a playlist and had control over that. It is hard to say what will supersede this current mode of distributing music.
Amid this uncertainty, I see that the wisdom of taking a long view—of where we have been, where we are and where we are going—can provide valuable clues for understanding how we might get where we want to be.
Just as the music in my precious MP3 library helped me map my way to myself fifteen years ago, perhaps these reflections can help us figure out how we want to envision a way of listening, sharing and paying for music that grants us the space in which our full humanity can exist, be nurtured and respected.
If we so choose, we could cultivate support for the aspects of music that impart some of the most profound, transformative and visceral experiences in our lives.