Illustration by Kate Prior
For decades, the music industry has been powered by a persistent cycle of sacrifice that separates it from almost any other business sector. In a recent retrospective, Stuart Stubbs explores an uncomfortable truth: our collective refusal to treat music like a standard business—simply because we love it—may be the very thing ensuring its eventual collapse.
The “vocational pull” of the arts often masks a grim financial reality. Stubbs reflects on his early days at NME in 2005, earning £60 a day while spending a third of that on train fares. At the time, the “buzz” of being an insider felt worth the cost. However, twenty years later, that same sentiment is sustaining an environment that many consider unsustainable.
The Great Economic Disconnect
While the top tier of the industry is seeing record-breaking deals—with legends like Queen and Bruce Springsteen selling catalogues for hundreds of millions—the grassroots level tells a different story:
- Employment vs. Income: In 2023, UK music employment hit a high of 216,000 people.
- The Poverty Gap: Despite high employment, the Musicians’ Union reported that 44% of professional British musicians earned less than £14,000 annually, forcing nearly half the workforce to seek outside income to survive.
The “Shoe Shop” Litmus Test
The core issue lies in how emotional investment overrides business logic. If a shoe shop cannot cover its rent or pay its employees a living wage, the business closes. In music, however, the “DIY culture” encourages workers to pay themselves less, work longer hours, and accept “offensively low fees” just to keep the dream alive.
“If I’d been running a shoe shop,” Stubbs writes, “my emotions wouldn’t have overruled what was staring me in the face.” This willingness to be “squeezed” has created a cycle where the industry survives on the exhaustion of its workers.
A Lesson in Value
As veteran workers face burnout and move into other sectors, the burden is passed to a younger generation fueled by the same optimism. While the industry thrives on the “guest-list culture” and the thrill of discovery, it cannot indefinitely sustain itself on dwindling wages and increased hours.
The ultimate lesson from two decades on the inside is a simple, if difficult, one: stop undervaluing the work. To save the industry, we might have to start treating it a little more like a shoe shop and a little less like a passion project.
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