ISLANDS IN THE STREAM
In the fall of 2019, we began a series of interviews with the intention of examining the changes in the music industry over the previous decade. A number of lines of inquiry were identified—How do musicians make a living in 2020? What do the words “indie rock” mean now? How do record labels survive when no one buys records anymore? What role does the media play in all of this?—and a series of musicians, record label heads, music media figures, and other assorted movers and shakers were chosen because of their unique proximity to the topics being explored. Then, right in the middle of data collection, a completely unforeseen event threatened to undermine the assumptions underlying those original questions and new questions emerged. How will musicians make a living if touring is impossible? Now that the industry has been forced to pause, are there ways to rebuild it in more equitable ways? Will streaming help save the music industry or hasten its demise? The answers provide a snapshot of a decade where everything changed, then changed again.
In their annual review of the year that was about to end, Billboard Magazine declared 2010 “The Year That Went Pop.” Lady Gaga, Justin Bieber, and Taylor Swift were ascendant and rock music was more or less moribund. No mention was made of the fact that 2010 had featured two of the most unlikely musical events of recent history: Arcade Fire and Vampire Weekend, two highly innovative bands on independent labels, had both placed albums at the top spot on the Billboard 200. After a decade of steady gains, with indie rock artists attaining ever-greater visibility on late-night television and in the pages of increasingly popular left-of-mainstream publications, for the first time in the history of the music industry, the outsiders had stormed the castle and draped their muddy feet across the throne.
Perhaps the mid-2000s commercial success of bands such as Modest Mouse and Death Cab for Cutie—two groups that had been indie rock archetypes but had found mainstream success behind major label muscle—had made that accomplishment appear less monumental than it would have otherwise. But for anyone who grew up soaked in the us versus them animus that indie rock fans felt toward the mainstream music industry and, by extension, mainstream success, the record chart triumph of two bands who undeniably embodied the indie spirit provided a moment of pause. If those acts could succeed, could Deerhunter, Joanna Newsom, and Beach House be far behind? If major label marketing money was no longer necessary, could indie artists finally make the leap from toiling in obscurity to having their underground cred and eating, too? But the forces of populism were about to hit an iceberg. In July of 2011, Spotify launched in the United States.
“Unfortunately, because of Spotify and streaming services, the possibility of making a living from selling records has been eliminated,” says Greg Saunier, multi-instrumentalist for Deerhoof, a band that has spent 25 years in the indie rock trenches. “The argument always was that ‘Well, that just means that you have to make your living from touring. Sorry, us tech people will extract whatever profit there was to be gained from record sales.’ But now that touring seems so threatened as a viable way to make a living, it makes a band that pays their rent and eats from touring scratch their head a little bit, like, ‘Hmm. I don’t really have a pension from this. I don’t really have a Plan B. I guess it’s back to the office job.’”
As a band that has always seemed one lucky song away from achieving some measure of mainstream visibility, Deerhoof remains as rooted in the indie rock aesthetic as they were when Saunier started the band 25 years ago. Like the bands that started with them—very few of which are still making records, it should be noted—they’ve survived by remaining constantly in motion, touring tirelessly and releasing albums regularly. He laments the notion that younger artists might feel the need to write music that will fit best with Spotify’s algorithm, something that will inevitably undercut any longevity that artist will have once the algorithm’s formula changes. But even bands with longevity are being challenged to find their footing in the new landscape. Take The Dandy Warhols, another band with 25 years of history and a few songs that will turn up in playlists long after they’re gone that is now figuring out where they fit.
“The subscription-based access to all songs that exist on the Internet is the single biggest change, because it has devalued music almost completely,” says lead vocalist Courtney Taylor-Taylor. “It used to be 15 bucks to buy one record of a band and their 12 current songs, and now that 15 bucks can get you a month and a half of almost any song that you’ve ever heard of.” Always an odd fit on Capitol Records, The Dandy Warhols were dropped in 2007, as the industry was reeling from the rise of peer-to-peer trading and the Great Recession. On indie labels ever since, they’ve found themselves fighting for attention in an era when everyone can make their music available to every person in the world with an Internet connection. “When that old industry fans now. You can’t even reach everyone who wants to know that you have a new record out. It’s so fucking crowded.”
