According to Spotify, the 7 million artists that distribute music through their platform should count themselves lucky. In the eyes of the corporate giant, Spotify has provided musicians with unprecedented access to the eager ears of music fans, triumphantly demolishing the … barriers associated with traditional music distribution. Whilst Spotify and its shareholders pat themselves on the back, artists continue to raise concerns with the platform’s royalty model, regularly referencing the exploitative ideas that underpin it. 

For the consumer, streaming services are truly a marvel. For just £10 a month Spotify Premium members can delve into a catalogue of over 70 million old favourites, underground tracks and brand new releases, beamed directly to their device of choice. Gone are the days of “rare” records that are only heard by hoarding DJs and collectors. In this environment of endless and affordable possibility, spending a tenner on a CD or digital album feels somewhat ludicrous.

At its core, Spotify might also appear as a symbol of welcome liberation for musicians. Long held at the mercy of vicious contracts designed to line the pockets of company executives before themselves, artists now have, in theory, more opportunities to cut out the royalty-sucking middle man than ever before. Why then, do musicians continue to criticise Spotify and even go as far as to remove their catalogues from the platform entirely? 

Spotify insists that they do not pay artists on a “per-stream” basis. Instead, all the streaming revenue from a particular geographical region is put into a single monthly pot, before being dished out to rights holders in line with their artist’s “streamshare”. That is, if an artist contributes 1% of the overall streams in a region, whoever owns the rights to their music takes home 1% of the money pot. Spotify uses this approach to produce some pretty compelling statistics, focussing on the 13,400 artists who generated over $50,000 in revenue in 2020, and the $5 billion that the company paid out in total across the year. 

The shine on these numbers quickly dulls when you start to investigate the claims more deeply. The 13,400 earning over $50000 make up the top 0.01% of artists on the platform (and that’s only counting artists with over 1000 monthly listeners). Even amongst this elite group, it’s highly likely that many of the musicians and groups will be locked into record contracts that skim off the majority of the streaming revenue before it reaches the artists themselves. Ed Sheeran might get handed a healthy streaming cheque at the end of the month, but the payouts scale down rapidly as you descend below the global superstars.

Quite staggeringly, lacklustre earnings from Spotify and other streaming services have completely redefined the role that recording plays in a musician’s career. It is almost accepted that the creation of art is no longer enough – recorded music must be supplemented with live shows, merchandise, and other endevours for even a slim chance of making a creative living. The stripping away of the value of art and music is by no means a new phenomenon, but it’s hard to argue that streaming hasn’t taken it to new extremes. 

It’s quite possible that Spotify will not be able to pay artists any more than they currently do. The platform does not exist within a vacuum, instead operating inside a wider context of rampant commercialisation, disposability, and the upholding of capital above all else. Despite an astronomical growth in users over recent years, Spotify has famously struggled to turn a profit. If a business cannot even make money whilst exploiting those who generate its revenue, how can it ever be considered a success?

Is Spotify did decide they wanted to pay their artists properly, then they’d be put in a difficult position. The “free market” renders an increase in subscription fees practically impossible, unless other streaming services were to follow suit. It’s also hard to imagine the company ever wanting to give up any of their meagre profits in the name of “fairness”. Outside of a dismantling of the current economic systems we live under, there seems to be a distinct lack of solutions to the problems that streaming services have created. 

In reality, Spotify was never designed to provide a reliable livelihood for artists and its consumer-led model has been the biggest driver behind its continuing popularity. Perhaps changing consumer habits would accelerate positive change, but it would probably take a monumental drop in subscriber numbers for Spotify to take notice. I am writing this article with Spotify playing in the background, and recognise that I am also perpetuating the company’s exploitative practices. Again, maybe I should be doing more to support artists directly and break the damaging cycle in any small way.

Spotify could have liberated millions, and it’s possible that it still can. Without radical societal change though, it’s difficult to see where Spotify’s liberating power will emerge from.

The post How Spotify Could Have Liberated Millions, and Why it Didn’t appeared first on Pretend.

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The city of Limerick in Ireland might seem like an unlikely location for a musical revolution, but a vanguard of artists have planted the city firmly on the map of the blossoming Irish music scene. A rich culture of collaboration and a golden generation of talent has propelled the Limerick sound past the city’s boundaries and towards much-deserved recognition around the world.

MuRli is one of the city’s leading lights. In 2014, alongside fellow Limerick-based artists God Knows and MynameisjOhn, MuRli formed Rusangano Family, a group that demanded the attention of music fans in Ireland with electric samples, heavy breaks, and razor-sharp lyricism. Since winning the Choice Music Prize in 2016 with the Rusangano Family album Let the Dead Bury the Dead, MuRli has been involved in a whirlwind of projects, linking up with Denise Chaila, God Knows and frequent collaborator Denise Chaila to name but a few.

MuRli’s most recent releases are filed under Ra Gerra, which came about from a joining of forces with Irish electronic producer Kobina. Fresh off the back of his own solo EP Four Poems, Kobina (AKA Sean Arthur), reached out in 2019 after hearing MuRli’s The Intangibles LP. As Sean describes, “I’d been a fan of his for ages, but some Friday evening, maybe had a beer of courage in me or something, I thought I’ll send him these beats and see if he responds”. 

MuRli did respond, sending back a trio of tracks built around the “challenging” instrumentals Sean had crafted. After knocking ideas back and forth over twitter in a game of musical tennis, the pair found themselves, somewhat unexpectedly, with an album’s worth of material. “When you work with a mate, you’re always trying to one up one another, in a positive, competitive way”, Sean explains. “He probably thinks I’m gonna send him his type of beat, so I’ll send him something else […] there was a moment when we were 11 songs deep – is this an album?”

The resulting LP, New Vessels, is an extremely varied listen that is a clear break from both of the artists’ back catalogues. Sean’s beats take inspiration from a spectrum of genres, swinging from melodic hip-hop sounds to an epic shoegaze/krautrock marriage on new single Pressure. The vocal delivery is equally as diverse and intriguing, sections of heavy autotune are contrasted with straight-up poetry. MuRli discusses why these characteristics developed, “When I’m making my own beats, there’s a certain lane that I find myself in a lot of the time, his lane is totally different. If I approach this with an open mind, and forget about what I do as “MuRli”, I can be reborn.” 

One of the most interesting aspects of the Ra Gerra project is that Sean and MuRli have never properly met in person. In 2019, whilst most of the tracks were being recorded, MuRli was travelling across Europe and America – at one point crafting a makeshift studio in a Cuban hotel room. Meanwhile, Sean was living in Amsterdam, where he’s still based. Despite making the album long before any pandemic lockdowns, Ra Gerra was a foretelling example of the remote collaborations that we’ve become all too accustomed to over the last year. Some of the themes of the album – reflection, uncertainty and perhaps self-criticism – are also eerily reminiscent of some of the experiences that the lockdowns have fostered for lots of people.

In many ways, the record has grown into itself, and taken on new meanings within the context of the past year, but as MuRli explains, ideas of uncertainty and contemplation aren’t particularly novel to him as a musician. “The troubles and insecurities of covid might be “new” if you look at it on a general level, but on a personal level that’s not new to me as an artist – trying to get myself out there in a world where you might be different from what most people expect”. Sean contributes a similar notion, “The lens that you see it through is different but it’s the same thing over time. You can apply this to the recession that hit us in 2011, we were all totally fucked in Ireland at the time”. 

The 2011 recession is just one of a number of factors that Irish musicians and creatives have had to contend with. Irish art is conducted against an intense political background, not least perpetuated by Britain’s continuing occupation of the North of Ireland. The Irish government itself provides little incentive to commit to a creative career, offering limited funding and upholding of supportive structures. Impressively, it seems as though these circumstances have done nothing to stem the flow of creatively on the island. 

The culture of collaboration that exists in Ireland is no doubt a direct pushback against many of these ideas. MuRli himself is currently involved in a number of projects, mainly with other artists from his hometown.  “I probably wouldn’t make music without collaboration. There’s something that happens when you get in a room with different artists, especially if they’re not like you. I’m proud of my [Limerick] scene, we’ve come a long way. We had this bad rep for so long and all of a sudden there was this sort of musical explosion and it happened throughout the arts as well. It’s been happening for years, but people are starting to ask now – how come there are so many great acts coming out of Limerick? No, it’s been like that for ages – you were just scared of Limerick”. 

MuRli and Sean are also keen to give their support for other artists operating in Ireland. “I’m always so proud of Irish artists, even if I don’t know them, when I see them get some recognition”, Sean says. “The governmental structures in Ireland, they do everything they can to stifle creativity. Making a living is not sustainable for so many. When people succeed, they succeed in spite of the fact that the government exists, not because the government exists”. 

When Irish artists do manage to find success and recognition away from Ireland, the music press is quick to lazily package them together with other acts from the country. Considering the vast range of cultures, accents, and backgrounds that exist in Ireland, a pigeon hole approach isn’t going to cut it. Sean points to the recent breakthrough of Fontaines DC as an example, “When the media sees a bunch of things that are similar, it’s easy to put them together and package them for the rest of the world. When the Fontaines came out, this scene was created hypothetically around them”. These desperate attempts to create a commercial “scene” completely obscure the true nature of creativity in Ireland, and reduce any artistic output down to tired cliches about the country and its people. 

Hip-hop in Ireland is far from a new phenomenon, but the emergence of new movements in Limerick and elsewhere has undoubtedly diversified the genre and propelled it to new levels of appreciation. “Growing up, there was never a MuRli to model myself after – I had to create a style for myself”. Now that Limerick and Ireland does have a MuRli, it will be fascinating to hear what the future has to hold.

Ra Gerra‘s album, New Vessels, will be released later this Summer. You can check out the singles Terrified and Pressure on Bandcamp and streaming services now.

The post From Limerick to Amsterdam, via Havana: Interview with Irish Hip-hop duo Ra Gerra appeared first on Pretend.

Little Simz released her latest EP, Drop 6, back in May. The EP, which was written, recorded and produced entirely in the month leading up to its release, was one of the first projects to be born out of the national lockdown. Undoubtedly, the unique limitations presented by the pandemic have left a subtle yet essential imprint on the record.

In the past, self-isolation has just been another technique of limitation

Limitations have proved themselves a valuable creative tool throughout music history. It’s said that Mozart used to juggle dice to randomly generate his next melody, whilst Kurt Cobain famously made use of cheap gear in the studio. A legendary moment of creativity occurred when A Guy Called Gerald’s low-memory sampler forced him to shorten his “voodoo rage” sample into “voodoo ra(y)” as he crafted his seminal acid house hit. 

In the past, self-isolation has just been another technique of limitation. Visual artist Georgia O’Keefe spent summers locked down in her “Ghost Ranch” in New Mexico, using the solitude as a chance to reflect, free of distractions. The desert landscapes she produced during these periods are vast and completely devoid of civilisation. What is interesting is that Little Simz’s Drop 6 often conveys a similar sense of starkness, despite being produced in North London.

The ever-presence of the lockdown has rendered solitude a necessity rather than a creative tool for artists such as Little Simz

Of course, the two situations differ dramatically: O’Keefe’s isolation was a conscious decision. Conversely, the ever-presence of the lockdown has rendered solitude a necessity rather than a creative tool for artists such as Little Simz. This distinction is perhaps exemplified by Simz choosing to title the first track of Drop 6 ‘might bang, might not’. With the option of face-to-face collaboration removed, knowing how a track is going to be received is practically impossible. These uncertainties were discussed in a recent Q&A.

Although social distancing and isolation does present an opportunity for uninterrupted creativity, many musicians’ first concern will be financial stability. Gigging is off the table for the time being, and the majority of artists won’t be able to pay their way via streaming revenue. Having said that, artists are more than used to navigating a hypercapitalistic world which pushes them to the fringes by its very nature – the lockdown is just the latest obstacle that they must overcome. 

As the UK Government plans to tumble out of national restrictions over the coming months, the full extent of the impact of the pandemic will slowly be revealed. It will also be interesting to see how musicians respond to their newfound freedom, and how their creativity fares as a result. One thing we can expect is that self-isolation won’t be at the top of any artist’s creative technique list for a long time to come!

The post Creative Isolation: National lockdowns vs self-imposed solitude appeared first on Pretend.

Reckless Yes is independent in the purest sense of the word. Actively opposing exploitative industry norms, the record label stands out against a murky backdrop of unethical practices that have become hallmarks of the trade. The curating of an inclusive roster, offering fair deals to their artists, and making sustainable choices are the pillars that hold up a label determined to make a difference. 

The single came about as a continuation of a collaboration between Pete and Sarah, who had been putting on DIY shows in Derby throughout early 2016. Writers and journalists in their own right, the pair met when Sarah was Editor of the brilliant music mag Louder Than War. ‘We got chatting when [Pete] submitted a piece, about a gig at JT Soars in Nottingham I think. It was evident pretty quickly we had lots in common, and as we talked about how we thought things should work in running gigs or anything else it was clear we shared the same outlook about what was fair, or not, in music.’

Today, Reckless Yes is home to a diverse and ever-growing community of artists. As of 2020, more than 62% of the label’s roster were women, non-binary, trans, or other gender minority artists. Although maintaining this balance is an active commitment for the label, the inclusive lineup developed naturally: ‘It was never a tick-box exercise or a gimmick but it’s been fairly easy for us to be inclusive when womxn, gender and other minorities are genuinely making the most interesting music around, in our opinion’, Sarah says, ‘But we’re also aware regardless of talent most of those people will be passed over by other labels, and diminished or oppressed in other areas of the industry simply because of who they are.’

It was never a tick-box exercise or a gimmick but it’s been fairly easy for us to be inclusive when womxn, gender and other minorities are genuinely making the most interesting music around, in our opinion.

It makes sense that a label built from an ethical standpoint is going to be attractive to artists, especially those who face continual oppression within the music industry and away from it. The formation of a safe space is a priority for Reckless Yes, who clearly recognise that the wider music community does not actively work towards curating these spaces. Of course, it is marginalised groups who bear the full weight of this negligence.

The label compounds its progressive nature by giving all artists 50% of their record profits. Pete, who himself released music under the ever-looming presence of a major label contract, explains why this is the case: ‘The good thing about being on a major is they’ve got money. Promo and plugging isn’t a problem. Getting paid for being in a band, as long as you don’t live a ridiculous lifestyle, is also not an issue. But they own you, your songs and your recordings. You can’t leave them if you’re not happy with the team or the service, but they can leave you on the pavement whenever they like. […] I also wanted to make sure it felt like a partnership by having a 50/50 split of the profits of the record sales. Without these talented folk making these great records, we’re nothing, so it should be equal. You don’t get that from a major label either – it’s typically 70/30 or 80/20 in their favour.’ 

‘We don’t live or die by the next record, which was a big fear for us for the first few years – the cash flow was such that if the next record was a commercial disaster, it would be game over.’

In a further attempt to financially support artists, Reckless Yes’ business model is built around its revolutionary membership scheme. Members pay a one-off annual fee and receive all of the label’s releases for the year, presenting benefits for the label, artists, and consumers at once. ‘For our artists it means we can offset the costs of their releases. We don’t try to recover the membership money so artists are in profit faster, It also means they have a group of enthusiastic and supportive people ready and waiting to advocate for them and spread the word about their music to others’ explains Sarah. Pete adds, ‘We don’t live or die by the next record, which was a big fear for us for the first few years – the cash flow was such that if the next record was a commercial disaster, it would be game over.’

Reckless Yes don’t fail to recognise the intersection between their social cause and the need for climate justice: as a result, environmentalism plays a key role in their business model, including giving a percentage of label profits to causes working to protect the environment and signing up to schemes like Offset Earth.

Predictably, the label’s social and environmental commitments have led to resistance from reactionary corners of the industry. Sarah and Pete would both like to see reform in the exploitative major record label model, but they understand that change will likely only come about when profit margins dictate. As Sarah explains, ‘The model is designed to exploit the artists on which the whole thing is dependent, and profit will likely always be a priority over doing the right thing. What’s quite interesting is that we can work this fairer model and still be a successful business. It does show the two things aren’t mutually exclusive.’

For many artists, though, any systemic change will be too late. This is particularly true during the national lockdown, where a musician’s only reliable source of income from their art, touring and selling merchandise, has been cruelly ripped away. Spotify royalties aren’t going to provide a wage for the vast majority of artists and most have been forced to compete with one another for limited employment opportunities outside of music. Government responses to the pandemic have repeatedly put corporate profit above human life, and it’s been made perfectly clear that artists will have no choice but to fend for themselves. 

Reckless Yes seem to have navigated the lockdown relatively smoothly, presumably in part thanks to the effectiveness and security of the membership scheme. Of course, the lack of gigging will no doubt have had a negative impact on the artists, but the label’s packed release schedule shows that creativity hasn’t ceased under the restrictions. ‘It’s been a rollercoaster!’, reports Sarah, ‘It’s definitely been really hard on our artists who are missing being able to play live – for the connection as much as the income. Some releases have been delayed but otherwise, our plans didn’t change hugely, and we were even able to pull in a couple of extra releases we hadn’t expected.’ Pete adds, ‘It’s also allowed us to pour more energy and effort into the label as I’ve been working from home and doing label stuff and day job at the same time. So I’m a little worried about when I have to be in the office full time again!’

The label hopes to carry this energy throughout 2021 and are already looking forward to some big plans for 2022. ‘This is undoubtedly our most ambitious year yet in terms of the number of releases, and the scale of those releases too. We’ve pretty much got something out every week this year so there’s plenty of stuff to get into, and really makes that membership amazing value. We’re also setting the foundations for some big things happening in 2022, and wanting to support our artists come out of what is an awful time to be a musician (not only the pandemic, but thanks to Brexit too) by supporting their wellbeing and development as much as we help them get their music out there.’

Reckless Yes’ latest release is Hannah Rose Kessler’s new single Come Feel Me. Hannah is incredibly talented and she has a real eagerness to experiment with different genres – she’s not afraid to try on new hats as it were, from one song to the next, so while I totally expect what she does next could be entirely different from what she’s done with this selection of songs, at the core of it are great well written catchy songs that deal with big issues from a female perspective – Pete.

Information about Reckless Yes’ Membership Scheme can be found here – https://recklessyes.com/become-reckless-yes-member/

The post Collaboration, DIY shows, and ethical contracts – Saying a ‘Reckless Yes’ to independence appeared first on Pretend.