Utterances: A Reaction to Ted Gioia's Article "Should We Get Angry When Artists Sell Out?"
Even if this article came out in 2015, it would still bum me out. Here's a better question: Does the #1 Substack author on music and culture even know any musicians?
The Honest Broker (THB), which purports to deliver readers “trustworthy guidance in matters of music and culture”, broached a central question in a free post today, which was sent out to 175,000 people:
“Should We Get Angry When Artists ‘Sell Out’?” - Oct 22, 2024
The sub-headline that read, “Is it really okay to take the money and run?”
Here’s my initial comment on THB’s post, which may be why you are here reading me. I’m not proud of this kind of angry writing. It’s not why I am on substack.
"The question I'm asking isn't, 'Should we get angry?' The question I'm asking is, 'Does The Honest Broker even know any musicians?' When will we let go of the myth that musicians are making money selling their actual music? Read more, here.”
Preface
I doubt the author of THB, Ted Gioia, will run his eyes across my text, but if he does, I would be honored. I’m not a writer. I make songs. I hope he doesn’t measure himself against me before before reading my words. This happens a lot on social media, especially with reactionary posts like mine here. Yes, Substack is social media, but much more powerful. THB has a direct line to 175k subscribers’ personal email. It’s a significant power. People read in bed for hours. Surely, there’s no shortage of wasted words these days. Maybe the author forgot they have meaning? Whatever the case, what I read made me so pissed off I had to go for a run, at night, in the rain—to blow off steam. This kind of moral gate keeping on artists makes sense, if we were all actually paying them anything. It’s akin to not ordering dinner, but complaining to the chef about the taste. It’s worse when a writer is using their bully pulpit to criticize a musician. How about do the opposite? Im reluctantly pushing back, criticizing the writer, who I think may not be the best resource Substack has to offer on music.
I’m a song-maker. Maybe you are too? I am old enough to have been making music before the internet and cell phones. I don’t have many followers, but I’ve been in the position of licensing my song to a television show a number of times. In most cases, songs got modified to suit the production needs. More than once, productions have modified the very spirit of my song. It’s common. Whole sections or layers of a tune can be muted, edited, or looped. It’s part of the deal. The tinkering with my music, like putting it into the elevator background, bothered me the first time—because I was excited I got onto a show and told everyone about it, not knowing what they had done. I was kinda humiliated when they asked, “where was it?”. I was not savvy enough to make a follow up social event around my defeat, which would most likely have won me some street cred, “hey everyone, sorry for asking you to tune into the show to hear my song, it was there, they just turned it into restaurant background music.”
Still, I realized back then these licensing bucks would most likely be the only significant income I’d ever see for my song. The rest would all be side hustle of side things (merch, etc). Only a fool would hold back and ‘not sell out’.
I’m generally happy about all these placements. Many of my music friends drooled over my opportunity. Many listeners think it’s great news and are happy for me. I don’t recall conversing with anyone who looked over their glasses to call me a “sell out”. If I got my song in a Pepsi commercial it’d be exactly the same. Most people are in touch with the struggle of musicians today. They are aware that they don’t buy music and songs have been devalued. Occasionally, someone might tack and say, “oh but Taylor Swift doesn’t need the money.” There are some behemoth winners in music right now, but they are outliers. There’s mostly people like me, fighting in a bag, coming to terms with an an art form that is full of value, wanted by many, but considered ‘free’. So many of my favorite songwriting friends have quit. Some have died from the complications of it. We should examine the costs of deeming music ‘free’—at very least how we treat musicians when they go the “sellout bucks”. We should wonder what it’s doing to our fellow artisans.
I’m a musician, remember, not a writer. Here’s my reaction to…
“Should We Get Angry When Artists ‘Sell Out’?” - Oct 22, 2024
“Is it really okay to take the money and run?”
Take this post down, please.
Or fix it?
I think we can all agree that these "sellout" moments existed in the past. Commercialization can ruin a song, perhaps even tarnish a memory. Artistic integrity used to be something I cared about, when it came to artisans taking corporate money. Then, in 2012, I received my first royalty payment from Spotify. I stopped giving a hoot about ‘selling out’ 12 years ago. Every music artist I know did as well.
I was 14 years old in 1989 when Ray Charles changed the lyrics to “Hit the Road, Jack” for a KFC commercial, turning it into “Cross the Road, Jack.” It bothered me then, and it still bothers me now. Still, I’d probably react differently if it happened today.
That sucks.
In 1989, KFC paid Ray Charles some whatever amount to create this new version and obtained the rights to produce a series of derivative works (performed by different artists) for commercials. At the time, musicians could still sell CDs and cassettes. People bought music in stores, and while a record deal was necessary for nationwide sales, independent labels also operated through mail orders. You could make and sell cassettes out of the trunk of your car if you wanted to be punk rock—something I did myself. To listen to music, people had to buy or acquire the physical product.
Artists like Ray Charles, and many others mentioned by THB article, still pursued these extra income opportunities. They made guest appearances, changed lyrics, bit into sandwiches, gave thumbs-up over noodle cups, chugged delightfully fizzy sodas, and turned to the cameras to deliver slogans. They allowed new advertiser friendly versions of their hit songs to be embedded in commercials, reaching audiences worldwide. They received an extra paycheck for it, while record labels and distributors benefited from increased sales of vinyl, CDs, and cassettes, as well as boosted radio play, television exposure, and global awareness of their songs. These songs sold as part of albums with other tracks, and the artists ultimately altered the zeitgeist.
More than a decade after 1989’s "Cross the Road Jack" aired, I watched the film Ray starring Jamie Foxx in 2004. When "Hit the Road Jack" played in the film, I found myself wanting to sing the first verse as, "Original recipe chicken place..."
We need an urgent re-wire on our perspective, all of us, fans included.
In the eyes of the cool kids, like me, these late 1980s, 1990s, and 2000s endorsements tarnished my perception of a musician's brand. It made sense to call it cringeworthy because it was, and still is. It became en vogue to call out artists for "selling out."
I believe this is where The Honest Broker’s perspective remains stuck. I used to feel the same way, so I understand where THB is coming from.
In 2002, during the Super Bowl, the surviving members of Led Zeppelin allowed “Rock ‘n’ Roll” to be used in a Cadillac commercial. It was the first time The Zep had permitted this, and it sucked. At least by then, the song was inextricably tied to my early drumming memories, so there was no way Cadillac Corp could diminish that connection. Considering “Rock ‘n’ Roll” was released in 1971, 31 years prior to the syncing, I can now understand why The Zep didn’t mind it becoming associated with the car brand in 2004, during the Super Bowl. By that time, it had been out for 30+ years! I still felt like The Zep had “sold out.”
Is it selling out if it’s your only sale?
Today in 2024, I have a different reaction to the notion artists ‘selling out’. It’s not anger or betrayal. If the great Ray Charles, did what he did today for KFC, I would not think he was “selling out”. I’d be happy he was at least getting paid for his insane talents. I would hope he had made an album, and not just a single, so I could enjoy a B-Side or something else?
I would be sad for the song itself, now fried to crisp in KFC’s original finger licking recipe. I’d remain sad for music, that an artist should have to resort to such egregious self-pollution in order to earn a living wage—that musicians cannot just sell the thing they make and call it a day. And finally, I’d make sure to help others understand just how dire it is for musicians today. I would let my readers know. I would not ask “if it makes them angry.”
Here’s a better question for a music journalist to ask:
How much money can a musician actually make from selling JUST their music in 2024?
You could then spend some time enlightening with facts just how wildly outdated and unfair our notions of success really are for musicians. An author might even be inclined to encourage readers to do something positive, like support musicians directly through purchasing merch or donating towards future work? A defender of artistic integrity wouldn’t spend time deriding artists for trying to make money from their creations, even peripherally.
Here’s a fun thing you can do with a music friend. Ask a musician why they make music. Watch them squirm in existential agony for a bit, and then, right before they try to answer, butt in on them with a wild guess, “Was it for the money?!”
Guaranteed laughter, right in your face, maybe some weeping, and possibly a slap might ensue.
This humor is dark. This humor is current.
In fact, ever since we called it streaming in 2012, this has been a funny thing to do to a music friend. Ask them if they are “in it for the money?”
Unlike bakers selling their bread, musicians cannot create and sell their music. We could all finally recognize this sea change. It happened in 2012. It’s 2024? Why not? Do we feel guilty because we know streaming screws musicians, but we do it anyway?
For those still on the fence, thinking their monthly spotify money pays musicians,
An income comparison between a Musician and The Honest Broker.
$6/mo vs. ¢0.004/stream
The Honest Broker (THB) has 175,000 subscribers and is not selling out. The author is not taking money or accepting private junket rides to write favorably in exchange. I respect that. THB in a good position to say “no”.
175k subscribers = roughly 3 Yankee Stadiums full of people. I know they are not all paid subscribers, but THB lands in their inbox. Let’s assume that, of those 175k readers, there are 2,000 paid subscribers. That’s a fair assumption, right?
2,000 subscribers paying $6/mo = $12,000.00/month or $144,000.00 per year. Substack takes 10% and Stripe takes 2%, making the final income tally = $10,715/month or $128,580/year. That’s a decent income. The Honest Broker can keep the lights on and not sell out. That rules, honestly. I’m glad Substack exists and I want to grow it for everyone who wishes to make money chasing their talents. It’s why I’m here.
If The Honest Broker publication was instead an artist on Spotify, and had 2000 dedicated streams, THB would earn a whopping $8/month or $96 per year, and not be “selling out”. Musicians make ¢0.004 per song stream. After the substack/stripe 12% fee, the total take home = $7.14/mo or $85.72 dollars per year. That’s all gravy, ‘not selling out’.
Of course you could say that people listen to songs over and over, but only read articles once. Okay then, even a lopsided comparison throbs painfully. Lets say that all 175,000 subscribers streamed vs only 2000 paying to read.
175,000 single streams x ¢0.004 (-12% fees) = $625/month or $7500.00/year
2,000 paid readers x 6$/mo (-12% Fees) = $10,715/mo or $128,580/year
$128,580/year. That’s far more than musicians in 2024 can make from selling their jams alone. A musician would need 32 Million streams to make $128k/year. Authors can still sell books, digitally. The same case cannot be equally made for music.
Its been 12 years since we changed the word from Pirating to Streaming
There still a lot of outdated myth about success in music. There’s an assumption that your favorite Indie musician touring constantly, packing every venue, is rolling in the dough. Most likely, these artists could make more money working at McDonald’s 40 hours a week. It’s dishonest to shame musicians for how they make money in 2024, or try to put them into some sort of morality cage, where fans must approve or deny ways they wish to profit tangentially from music. We are not going to stop streaming. We could at least stop pretending that spending ¢0.004 on a stream pays musicians anything. “Selling out” died in 2012. Shaming artists for ‘selling out’ should have too. It’s time to find ways to support musicians directly. You wouldn’t put a single penny in a piano players tip jar, unless you meant it as an insult. We can appreciate hustle when we see it, and buy in on some merch, or whatever, directly from the artist
More about me:
I don’t have a huge readership. I don’t wish to gain new subscribers from responses like this, but if you like what you see, please do subscribe.
I’m doing something different on Substack. I’m making music here. I respect this realm for how it began—for authors. I mean no disrespect from all my videos and shabby literature. I’m not trying to transform the place with dissolvable eyeball grabbing posts, whose aim is only holding your attention. I seek to leave a legacy here, one that cannot be found in the ‘notes’. I’ve making my Substack publication a primary means of communicating with my fans. I’m going to be releasing all my new music here first, before streaming—direct to email inboxes. My slogan for my publication is “Watch Me Make Music”. I’m just getting started, but I’ve made a 4 year minimum commitment to my publication.
Here’s some housekeeping:
Go to the search bar of Substack > Click on ‘Music’ > The first publication on the leaderboard that arises is ‘The Honest Broker’ (THB).
If you see a ✓ next to it, make sure you unsubscribe. *If the author takes down his post, then all will be forgiven.
About the author
Ryan OToole (aka, RYNO) is a skateboarder from Arizona with too many film degrees, who writes songs for Pretty City Lights—a new music project based in Seoul, South Korea. His songs have been described as, "alternative rock for people dying of middle age". Formerly associated with the band, Amateur Blonde, his songs have been featured in television and film - notably, The Walking Dead (S10 Ep21). RYNO is the author of Behind The Lights a freemium substack publication, documenting the Pretty City Lights song & album creation process with the slogan, “watch me make music”.