The Mic: Issue 49

The Mic Issue 49

with special thanks to...

The Committee

Tristan Phipps President Social Secretary Lucy Gray Vice President Ben Standring Communications Secretary General Secretary Print Director Development Coordinator

Cameron Chadwick Editor in Chief Podcast Coordinator Daisy Carter Deputy Editor Bethan Fletcher Marketing and Publicity Executive Social Media Manager Lara Gelmetti Social Media Manager Michael Clarke Treasurer

contributors

designers

Louise Dugan Bethan Fletcher Louis Griffin Freya Martin Conor McGarry Alex Newport Ben Standring

Lara Gelmetti Kat Long Nana Yaw Mensah Jase Neal Ben Standring

Special thanks must go to Kat Long for the cover design and for her and Lara Gelmetti’s increased role in the design of this issue.

sponsors And to all labels, venues, managers, promoters and PR companies who provided us with gig, interview and promotional opportunities.

Join The Mic for just ÂŁ8 for the year!

For any review, gig or interview requests, email us at themic@themicmagazine.co.uk We will be back with Issue 50 soon! In the meantime, keep up to date by following our social media streams and checking out our website! /TheMicNotts

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@TheMicNotts

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Notes from the President

As Nottingham emerges from its winter slumber, many could be forgiven for desiring an extra few minutes or even weeks in the comforting arms of the duvet. However, as spring approaches, so do the gigs. And what a season the city has planned for us. From the ‘Lord of the Manor’ Kano set to return to Rock City with force, to the fiery, youthful Sheafs ready to take the roof off Bodega, to Nottingham’s hotshots Reflekter propping up the spirited The Sherlocks at their February show – there is excitement at every turn this spring.

As for our first edition of the new decade, we hope to present you with an offering equally as impressive. In my pick of our thought-provoking opinion pieces, Louis Griffin turns his attentions towards systematic sexism within the music industry. Additionally with interviews from Dirty Hit’s new star beabadoobee, the Leicester relaxers Easy Life, as well as favourites of The Mic, Palace, there is something for everyone to enjoy. Notably, our cover story sees our Communications Secretary and all-round resident hero, Ben Standring, sitting down with perhaps the most versatile and talented of indie-icons, Bombay Bicycle Club, whilst our feature interview comes from the rough and ready Sports Team. Who said January had to be boring?

As always, if you like what you see, why not get in touch and join our buzzing team of designers, writers and photographers, to see how we can make your year that little bit better.

Peace and love always. Enjoy the issue, Tris

INSIDE THIS ISSUE FEATURES & INTERVIEWS: 4 8 10 14 16

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2020 Preview 2020 Ones to Watch: Easy Life 2020 Ones to Watch: Sports Team 2020 Ones to Watch: beabadoobee Robot Rock: Artificial Intelligence in Music Sexism in the Music Industry Cover Story: Bombay Bicycle Club Industry Plants The Music Industry Underground Interview: Palace

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Robot Rock: Is Artificial Intelligence threatening the traditional musical creative process?

Artificial Intelligence has undoubtedly had a profound impact on almost every aspect of our daily lives. Any social media you may have, entertainment services like Netflix, using maps on your smartphone to navigate; all of these rely on AI algorithms to function. However, relatively little thought has been given to the influence of Artificial Intelligence on the arts, as many people assume creative pursuits like music to be limited to the human imagination.

However, a debate has recently opened up after Grimes (an experimental music artist and girlfriend of the famously AI-fearing Elon Musk) declared that, because of the rapidly accelerating creative ability of Artificial Intelligence, ‘live music is going to be obsolete’ and we are ‘nearing the end of human-only art’. This claim that AI will surpass humanity’s capacity to create music, within the next 10 to 30 years, would appear to be ludicrous and far-fetched. However, AI is already having a significant impact on the way in which we consume music without us even realising it. Streaming services such as Spotify are dependent on it to create your personalised Daily Mixes and to suggest new music to you based on your listening habits.

This is just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to the potential impact of AI on music. During Dr. Dre and Snoop Dogg’s performance at Coachella 2012, a lifelike hologram of Tupac Shakur appeared on stage performing his old hits and exclaiming ‘What’s up Coachella?’, despite the festival not being established until three years after the rapper was shot dead. This practice has become increasingly common in the years since – for example, the Japanese vocaloid software Hatsune Miku has sold out tours and appeared on The Late Show with David Letterman, performing songs as a virtual character while backed with a live band.

However, focusing on what us humans can get Artificial Intelligence to do limits its potential; we should also recognise the recent developments of AI creating music itself. A number of pieces of software at this very moment 16

are being used mostly for simple compositions and background music, but this technology is developing to the point that Grimes’ claim of ‘the end of human-only art’ may soon come to fruition. One of the most significant examples of this is the Artificial Intelligence Virtual Artist (AIVA). AIVA works by reading years of existing music from a variety of genres, detecting trends and patterns in these works, and then composing its own original pieces. Not only this, but AIVA is being developed to create personalised music based on a person’s specific taste. Imagine a program that could compose a unique song depending on your music preference and mood; this is no longer a distant fantasy and may soon be a reality in revolutionizing how we consume art itself.

The obvious counterargument to this would be that music is an inherently human experience, and that our emotions cannot be properly replicated by AI. Is music not our form of escapism, where we feel like somebody, somewhere, can relate to our experiences and struggles? Surely that is lost with music composed by Artificial Intelligence? Maybe so. But the question has to be asked, in this age of music streaming services and our ‘shuffle generation’, do people even care? The rise of AI in music has coincided with a general movement away from physical albums and overarching narratives, as well as the rise of the manufactured pop stars from shows such as The X-Factor. Do people still feel the need to relate to musicians?

This is not as recent a development as you might think; Blur’s Damon Albarn created the world-famous Gorillaz in 1998, the first and as yet only virtual band to win a Grammy award. His creation is evidence of a future where the pop charts could be dominated by Artificial Intelligence, since his animated characters in the band are still able to strike a chord with listeners, despite not being human themselves. Look at any of their music videos on YouTube and the comments will be filled with people relating to the characters and each of their unique ‘personalities’. This shows how people can in fact become invested in virtual characters, demonstrating the potential for AI created music to still be able to resonate with people.

Everything considered, the conditions are in place for the rise of Artificial Intelligence in the music industry. Grimes’ claims of live music becoming ‘obsolete’ are unlikely, but over the next decade, we may well see the end of the human monopoly on the arts.

BY CONOR MCGARRY

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SEXISM SEXISM IN IN THE THE MUSIC MUSIC INDUSTRY INDUSTRY

In November of last year Geoff Travis, head of TRANSMT festival, claimed that more women need to be ‘picking up guitars’ and ‘playing in bands’ in order to get on festival lineups; understandably, these comments provoked furore within the music community. The comments followed the announcement of the 2020 lineup of the festival, which featured just 2 female acts out of 13. I couldn’t help but think about the state of gender equality in the wider music industry, for while this issue is never far from my mind, this seemed a particularly flagrant example of the gender disparity we see. And, while many aspects of our society are determined to achieve equality, change seems frustratingly glacial in music. So, I set out to discover why, and whether this looks set to change any time soon.

First, we must look to where power is concentrated in the industry. There appears at first glance to be three main culprits: labels, promoters, and the media. While the music press would pride themselves on celebrating equality and diversity in the medium, I’m not referring to them; outlets such as Pitchfork and NME have influence within music circles, but the true power lies with the bastions of print and digital media. These often do not reflect the feelings of those within the music community (see for instance their reactions to Stormzy’s Glastonbury headline set) and are mostly reactionary to the industry, instead of influencing it. So, we come to the twin arms of labels and promotion, pillars of the music industry in the past – I think it will come as no surprise that these are far from the engines of equality we would hope them to be.

The heads of the ‘Big Three’ music labels are all men, and between them make up more than 80% of the market. And yet again, whilst independent labels may pride themselves on their forward-thinking approaches to equality, the power structures in place at the major labels are simply too large to be ignored, engines of tastemaking and trendsetting that they are.

A similar picture is painted in the realm of live music promotion, the other moneymaker in the business; of the two powerhouses, Live Nation and AEG Live, we once again find ourselves presented with male CEOs, and it is difficult to fail to see a pattern emerging.

Now, I’m not saying that these men are incapable of creating an equal and diverse industry, I am merely pointing out that the gender representation at the top does not belie a business that is encouraging to women attempting to 18 climb its ranks. If this is the case at the top, what hope is there for the artists

that are being dealt with by such organisations? After all, 6 men in charge of essentially all the power in the industry may be less than empathetic to the struggles faced by women. So, this brings us to our next point – is this power shifting any time soon? The figures aren’t promising. Since 2017, their revenues have been growing for the first time since the post-90s streaming crash, and the majors have more of a stranglehold than ever. So, where can we look to for change?

To the one power we’ve not yet referenced: the artists themselves.

Earlier this year, Taylor Swift announced that her label had been bought by music industry magnate Scooter Braun (the man who signed Justin Bieber). He now had the rights to the masters for all six of her albums, and Swift describes Braun as ‘an incessant, manipulative bully’; to call this catastrophic may be too weak a term. However, she then announced plans to rerecord her entire back catalogue in 2020 and publicly called out Braun.

Here we saw a power exchange not seen before – an artist taking on the industry and winning. Taylor Swift is one of the most influential female artists on the globe right now, and here set a unique precedent only made possible by the altered landscape of pop culture, where now artists may communicate directly with fans. After all, Swift made this announcement via Tumblr. Elsewhere, we can see those who aren’t falling victim to systemic biases calling attention to those same biases. Artists such as The 1975 and IDLES are calling attention to the privileges afforded to them by virtue of being male, and we should applaud this wherever we find it; it’s not that we need to see less men on lineups, rather that we need more women.

Finally, there are changing winds in the festival industry too. Primavera Sound – one of the largest festivals in Europe – had a gender-equal lineup in 2019, becoming the first major festival to do so. Additionally, Emily Eavis – head of Glastonbury, arguably the biggest festival in the world – has committed to a gender equal lineup in the future, while also acknowledging that there are more systemic problems at play.

So, there is evidently a problem within our industry regarding gender, and this does not look likely to change overnight. What can we do then, as music consumers? We must continue to call attention to the systemic biases in place, look to support artists, labels and institutions that stand for equality, and believe that music can, and should, be equal. After all, to quote Geoff Travis once more, women simply need to ‘pick up guitars’. How hard can it be?

BY LOUIS GRIFFIN

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COVER STORY

Bombay Bicycle Club British indie treasures return to find their voices once more

At one point in time, indie rock was the dominant force in British music before the overwhelming takeover of dance, hip-hop and grime. A once vast contingent has dwindled with the likes of Klaxons and The Maccabees disappearing in recent years, and when Bombay Bicycle Club announced a hiatus in January 2016, fans feared a similar fate may have come their way. Three years later however, the band announced a surprise reunion, citing renewed energy and enthusiasm for the future as the driving forces. Their return saw them first celebrating the tenth anniversary of debut record I Had The Blues But I Shook Them Loose, then the release of a string of live dates and a new record. Ben Standring caught up with frontman Jack Steadman to find out what has changed since the hiatus and to delve into the making of the bandʼs debut record on its tenth anniversary. ʻObviously you can be a bit sheepish when youʼve been away for some time, thinking about whether people listen to us anymore. All these thoughts were going around our heads but the reception since

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coming back has been greatʼ, a composed Jack Steadman muses gently, lightly caressing his shining head with the back of his hand. It has been nine months since Steadman (vocals, guitar, piano), Jamie MacColl (guitar), Ed Nash (bass) and Suren de Sarem (drums) announced their return as Bombay Bicycle Club, and the spritely demeanor of the well-spoken frontman is a reassurance that the past three years have done more good than harm. ʻEverything going so well initially helped us make the decision to take a break. Itʼs easier when youʼre at the top of your game

Photo: Bombay Bicycle Club

to stop, rather than dipping and feeling deflated. We had the perfect opportunity to do something that weʼve probably been thinking about for a whileʼ.

An integral force in Britainʼs musical landscape, Bombay Bicycle Club first rose to attention after NME announced them to the world as ʻthe hottest band to come from North London for quite some timeʼ in May 2007 – just three months after the release of debut EP The Boy I Used to Be. With four records to their name the quartet have become one of the nationʼs most eclectic and treasured outfits, their holistic outlook on experimentation submerging the band into the climates of world music, folk and electronic-lead rock.

Looking back at If I had the Blues…, Steadman laughs at the journey the band have been on since finishing school and recording in 2008. ʻItʼs funny because those were just our final years at school, which for anyone is just a really fun time.

Playing those songs live again is strange… all those memories come back on stage again. A circle pit formed the other day – itʼs been a while since thatʼs happened!ʼ. He beams as he recalls the stage invasions, the broken equipment and general mischievousness from the early days, free of expectations and professional limitations. ʻWe were just pretty stupid kids really; we didnʼt have lofty ideas of

what the album should be. We barely knew how to get sounds in the studio… which is part of the charm really because it feels more natural and less contrived. I donʼt remember feeling any pressure, we were so young and were in the privileged situation where we could be a bit blasé about certain things.

We werenʼt living in real life, we werenʼt needing to pay rent… just kids who didnʼt have particular dreams or aspirations, we were always quite happy with what we were doingʼ.

As a record, I Had The Blues But I Shook Them Loose was destined to become an instant favourite from the moment debut single Evening/Morning was released. Yet without the help of now firm friend and internationally acclaimed producer Jim Abbiss [Adele, Arctic Monkeys, Kasabian], the converging refined-but-still-loose sheen covering the record would have been lost, endangering its balance. ʻJim took a garage jam band that wasnʼt really tight and honed us enough to sound tight, but with character still,ʼ explains the frontman. ʻHe gave the record enough edge and looseness to it.

Now that Iʼve been on the other side of it you realise how delicate that

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balance is. In terms of songwriting, he helped me structure ideas and interestingly he became someone who I could trust with everything going forwards. With [fourth record] So Long, See You Tomorrow, I would call him and heʼd give me feedback on things without being involved officially.

Itʼs important for songwriters to have people like that in their lives. Iʼm very happy to have met himʼ.

Despite Abbissʼ subtle influence on the bandʼs 2014 record, So Long, See You Tomorrow was spearheaded creatively by Steadman himself, inspired by travelling to India and Turkey – adventures which had an unwavering impact on the singerʼs mindset. The three-year hiatus from 2016-2019 allowed Steadman to travel the world further as jazz-based Mr Jukes whilst Nash recorded under the name Toothless, both projects releasing records in 2017. ʼIʼd been thinking about doing Mr Jukes for a long time, itʼs always been gnawing away at me… you can probably hear it from a lot of songs on So Long, See You Tomorrowʼ. Free to travel and engage in a global music scene, Steadman thrived, and away from the band dynamic, each member subscribed to a newfound sense of freedom to explore and discover. ʻWhen youʼre in a band you kind of function as one unit… the interviews weʼd do would be one personality and that definitely contributed to wanting to do stuff on our own and wanting to be independent,ʼ Steadman states. ʻThings like artwork and music videos, they would be entirely you… thatʼs what Mr Jukes was to me. It was a healthy

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process and Iʼve probably come back with a stronger sense of selfʼ.

The rejuvenated vitality permeating through Steadman and the band contributed to Bombay Bicycle Clubʼs 2019 return, yet there were simpler forces at play to explain the reformation. ʻHonestly, it was the anniversary of the first record that led us to come back together,ʼ shrugs the singer. ʻWe thought it might be cool to play some shows and then we thought if we just came back to play anniversary shows, that would make us feel very old. Itʼs what older bands do, just tour classic albums from the 80s and so I thought about writing some new musicʼ. ʻI didnʼt know whether it would be good or what would happen, but we thought weʼd try and Eat, Sleep, Wake was one of the first things I wrote. We all thought we could make a new album after that,ʼ explains the integral frontman. ʻIt was baby steps really… it was really gradualʼ. Contrasting the steady album process, the bandʼs first release in five years was made in

Photo: Bombay Bicycle Club

rapid fashion. ʻLike all things of that nature, it happened really quickly, it was just one night,ʼ proclaims Steadman. ʻMe and Ed would take solo trips together to do writing, and I like having people around when Iʼm writing because if itʼs just me in a house in the middle of nowhere, Iʼd end up getting really stoned and watching movies for a week and I wonʼt write anything. Ed was there to babysit me!ʼ.

Released in August, Eat, Sleep, Wake (Nothing But You) was an emblematic return, with invigorating hooks matching Steadmanʼs quivering vocals and an infectious melody to contrast with a mantra-like chorus exploring feelings of infatuation. Full of yearning and pulsing with urgency, Steadman recalls of the track: ʻI just remember Ed coming in and immediately being like, “what is this? This is great!”. As soon as that happens really you know itʼs going to be a good song. Itʼs really interesting how quickly you realise these things. Itʼs funny because as much as you do write songs for yourself and for the catharsis, part of you is still that little kid who wants praise and wants people to like it. Thatʼs something that as you keep making music, you seek out, and a lot of people wouldnʼt admit that but itʼs true in everyone – they want to make people happy I guessʼ.

Gone Wrong acts as a culmination of the bandʼs discography to date, the rough edges of their debut album mixed with the electronics inherent within So Long, See You Tomorrow. ʻI Had The Blues… was really raw but So Long… was polished and almost didnʼt have any edges to it in a strange way,ʼ ponders Steadman. ʻThis for me sits nicely in the middle of those two thingsʼ.

Despite its gloomy title and the current political climate, Everything Else Has Gone Wrong isnʼt a political record. ʻItʼs about always struggling with communication,ʼ Steadman confirms. ʻDoing interviews for example – Iʼve gotten better, but at the beginning it was always difficult.

People would always ask you how youʼre feeling… I have no idea how actually to get the right vocabulary to say something. Ever since I was young, Iʼve written music to make it easier for me to express those thingsʼ. A moment of reflection and the weight of the topic dawns on the room. ʻNot being able to express yourself is a deeply unsettling experience as a human being. I think a lot of people, if they canʼt do it one way, will find another way to communicate because everyone naturally has the need to do it.

Thatʼs why people paint or write

Bombay Bicycle Clubʼs recently released fifth record Everything Else Has

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poetry… so thatʼs what the recordʼs about… which is funny, because a lot of our old records were about love stories and romance. They were never self-indulgent… maybe thatʼs a part of getting older and doing a lot of soul searchingʼ.

If anything, Steadmanʼs soul searching is most apparent on the albumʼs title track, an emphatic example of the cathartic refuge seeping through the entirety of the fifth record. Accompanied by nostalgic, winding guitars, lyrics such as “I guess Iʼve found my peace again, and yes, Iʼve found my second wind” explore the dual themes of hope and renewal, finding solace in the familiar comforts. Yet familiarity aside, the new album is not a safe offering per se. It is arguably the bandʼs most expansive to date, with Ed Nash taking over some writing duties with additional help from Liz Lawrence. ʻItʼs a great thing for us as a band. I believe Ed had those songs up his sleeve this whole time but going away and being apart has given him the confidence to bring ideas to us and play them to us. For me that just confirms that it was such a good thing to take some time away because this is a beautiful result, these songs from Edʼ.

Asked if the confidence with the band moving forwards is greater than ever, Steadman returns, ʻYes I think so, we definitely took a break at the peak of everything and I think thereʼs going to be part of us thatʼs chasing that a little bit, but for me Iʼm just happy to be playing with the guys again… and seeing that everyone else has missed it, it

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Photo: Bombay Bicycle Club

it makes me joke that every band should go on a break for a little bit because when you come back people are crazy for it!ʼ.

Following the release of Everything Else Has Gone Wrong, the band will embark on a February tour, which Steadman believes will be improved following his time with Mr Jukes. ʻHaving gone and done an experience with a lot of jazz musicians, where everything is improvised, you learn to not care about mistakes. I used to be very neurotic with making sure my voice was good and everything was perfect, and I would get very upset about mistakes,ʼ he explains, his honesty warming the room. ʻI released that people in the audience donʼt really care as much about that as they do about the general feeling of a performance and the energy that people put into music. You can tell when a band is bored onstage – thereʼs no hiding that so we have to be having a good time, and naturally weʼre most excited about the stuff weʼve just been makingʼ. Playing the new material live will be an affirmation for Steadman as well. ʻI want new songs to have as much

reaction as those from I Had The Blues… because I donʼt want to be one of those bands where everyone is waiting for you to play a classic and then a new song is played and everyone stands still. Itʼs been cool to have people really sing the chorus for Eat, Sleep, Wake back at us, for exampleʼ.

Now with five records notched on their belts, Bombay Bicycle Club have surpassed a level that most indie rock bands fail to even get near. They have outlasted the majority of the genre from the late 2000s, and the secret behind it, Steadman offers, couldnʼt be simpler. ʻYou just have to keep making songs that are good, thatʼs literally why bands donʼt last very long. They make a great record and try to make a second or third one and itʼs not as goodʼ. He continues, ʼI think being eclectic helps a lot.

When people were thinking about what we were going to do after the debut album, we really surprised them by doing an acoustic record [2010ʼs Flaws]. It kind of threw everyone off and meant that after that, we could do whatever the hell we wantedʼ.

In the space of ten years, both everything and nothing has changed for Bombay Bicycle Club. Musically, their sound has shifted from one record to the next whilst the methodology behind the creative process remains stubbornly formulaic. ʻApart from Ed writing more songs, nothing has

really changed. I like to be on my own but with someone expecting something, otherwise Iʼm a very lazy person,ʼ muses the singer. ʻThere was a time in my life where I had a really fancy studio and it was the worst time in my life, I just didnʼt use it all. I write a lot of music when I least expect it… itʼs uninspiring. I like to travel a lot and write in other places, but itʼs always spontaneous so you just have to be ready for when that happensʼ.

Steadmanʼs love of travel has by no doubt been harnessed in recent years. A self-declared train nerd, he states that heʼs ʻone of those people thatʼs very fickle about their hobbies so every six months itʼs something differentʼ. Despite the changing neuroticisms, Steadmanʼs mind is solely fixed on the music and the band who heʼs spent the majority of the past fifteen years with. Having completed a run of shows celebrating their majestic debut record, Bombay Bicycle Club are back and getting into their stride again. Almost exactly a year since announcing their return, the band released their most diverse and complete body of work, returning the outfit to the higher echelons of the genre once again.

By Ben Standring

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INDUSTRy PLANTS Since the emergence of the term in hip hop, the idea of an ‘industry plant’ has recently spread throughout other genres, with artists from Billie Eilish and Lana Del Ray to Chance the Rapper accused of being plants. But what is an ‘industry plant’? And are these ‘plants’ unwanted weeds, uprooting the culture which forms the bedding of a scene?

Or is this concept something which has always been blooming within music, an essential part of its diverse ecosystem?

Generally, an industry plant is an artist who has the backing of an industry label, who provide them with resources which are unavailable to independent acts.

That support might come in the form of generating unavoidable media hype and forcing them onto consumers, or aiding the artist financially to enable them to create the best quality work. However, they still present themselves as an organically grown talent. Often, this is someone who appears seemingly out of nowhere to go on to have great success, potentially off the back of one viral track. The term is loaded with negative connotations, suggesting that the artist is merely a ‘puppet’, and that anyone could have reached their levels of fame with the aid of autotune and well-polished production.

People see these plants as being detrimental to both the artist themselves and to the scene which they are planted into. In the UK/US, in more mainstream genres such as pop, the idea of some label influence is relatively common place.

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But elsewhere, the K-Pop scene sheds light on the potential dangers of such an extreme influence. Hopefuls as young as 13 are picked up by entertainment labels which also double as huge public companies, and are quickly tied into restrictive contracts. These companies are then able to exercise drastic influence over the entire lives of the acts: preventing the disclosure of personal details, enforcing strict diet plans and controlling what they wear in order to shape the acts into a certain image, which has been carefully calculated to ensure maximum commercial success.

While the general culture is obviously different in these countries, and the attitude to issues such as mental health and women’s rights means that it would be a clear over assumption to blame the labels alone, it is difficult not to be concerned for the unabashed attitude of the industry. Treating acts as perfect brands, rather than bands made up of real individuals, can’t be something that people want to encourage.

Historically, in less mainstream genres, artists struggled to put out music unless it was done independently. As a result, the idea of the ‘come up’ of the hardworking artist – who puts in hours of work gigging at small venues and relentlessly chasing their passion – became a key aspect of the culture and identity of those within these scenes. This ‘hustle’ features heavily in the lyrics of rappers such as Eminem, and the notion of the unheard underdogs coming together

against the organised power of the commercial industry is particularly important within the DIY/punk scenes.

This is in jarring opposition to the plant, which seems to reduce a scene into nothing more than a cold, formulaic business plan. The creation of a cookiecutter mold, which they just choose a marketable person to pour into, ignores the fact that these scenes are more than just the music; they’re also often a safe space for like-minded people who feel at odds with mainstream culture to come together. Not only does a plant come into conflict with the core values of many scenes, it often means that more underground artists are forced even further away from the consumer in an already very competitive industry. And why should these artists not be able to have their music heard if they genuinely put in hard work?

However, the music industry has basically operated in the same way for years. Talents would be picked up by labels who they believed had potential, who would then help them create commercially successful music. And this was often the aim of the artist, although similar argument has always existed in the form of criticizing these acts for ‘selling out’. Surely if the music industry was only picking up established artists who were already successful, then their existence would be redundant.

The rise of platforms such as SoundCloud means that it is now easier than ever to grow an organic following,

prompting many elitist corners of the internet to suggest that there is no longer the excuse to rely on big labels. But it is likely that the term has become so popular that the outline of its definition has become more blurred, not necessarily because the industry is suddenly being swamped with plants. Social media such as TikTok essentially facilitates the creation of a new viral sensation almost every month, catapulting previously unknown artists such as Lil Nas X or bbno$ into the mainstream, mirroring the rise of a plant. Many of these artists then go on to get signed, with conspirators interpreting this as evidence that the label was involved all along. It now seems that any artist whose background appears to be somewhat hazy is quickly slapped with this label by the internet, rather than there being a genuine rise in label involvement.

Ultimately, there is no inherent wrong in a label ‘creating’ an artist. It is arguable that the element of deception to fans and the potential harm caused to acts when the label goes too far and takes advantage of them could pose problems. But, within most scenes, the extent a label can influence the listener only goes so far. It can’t force people to like music that they just don’t like and just don’t agree with, no matter how hard it tries. Enough arbitrary elitism already exists within music. Music is an art form, and if you enjoy it, then why should there be any rules as to why one artist is more valid than the other?

BY LOUISE DUGAN 27

The Dirty Underworld of Getting Paid by A Record Label Record labels have never been the pinnacle of morality, but in recent years their behaviour has come to the frontlines of corporate criminality. Today many artists such as AJ Tracey, Chance the Rapper and Joey Bada$$ have been very public about their embrace of independence, rejecting the big money that comes along with big label support, and who can blame them? Tracey landed the song of the summer in Ladbroke Grove, Chance landed a Grammy with Coloring Book and Joey sold 227,000 copies of his critically acclaimed sophomore album All-Amerikkkan Bada$$.

But why do so many artists take the independent route now? The history of label exploitation provides reasoning that would leave many wondering why more artists don’t take this route.

As early as the 1960s artists were getting royally screwed by their labels. The Jackson 5 famously lost the rights to their own name after their attempt to leave Motown records, who were so 28 generous as to give them a ‘huge’ 2.8

percent royalty from their music.

Creedence Clearwater Revival lead singer John Fogerty was sued for plagiarizing himself in 1988, as the record label which owned Creedence’s catalogue deemed his solo track The Old Man Down the Road too similar to Creedence’s Run Through the Jungle. Whilst a jury ultimately threw the case out and he recouped his legal fees in 1994, it shows how far a label is willing to go due to sheer greed.

Such practices have not died out – Lil Wayne was delayed from releasing his much anticipated Tha Carter V project for over five years and Kanye West is currently locked in a nightmare contract which effectively bans him from ever retiring from music. Artists have tried to fight back and have enjoyed some success; after all, Tha Carter V was eventually allowed to be released after Wayne hit Cash Money Records with a $51 million lawsuit. Sadly, this is relatively uncommon. As of 2016, Sony Music is worth an eye watering $2.2 billion, meaning any artist faces an extreme uphill

battle towards getting what they’re owed. It seems that for many, the court of public opinion is the only court they’re capable of winning in, as the internet (especially Twitter) allows artists to relay their grievances to an audience of millions.

The internet has allowed artists to express their anti-label views in a more effective way than ever before, mobilizing gigantic fanbases against corporate bogeymen. The best example of this in recent years is Taylor Swift’s viral tweet slamming Scooter Braun for holding her masters hostage, racking up an impressive 911,000 likes (as of January 2020). However, the advent of streaming has also allowed label exploitation to delve into deeper depravity than ever seen before, especially when it comes to producers in today’s flourishing hip hop scene. A sneaky practice which has become popular recently has been classifying full length projects as mixtapes rather than albums, which, thanks to legal loopholes, allows labels to pay producers as little as 50% of what they should be owed and to slither around clearing samples.

According to producer DJ Burn One, RCA Records were guilty of this with A$AP Rocky’s debut project LIVE.LOVE.A$AP, which

despite its 16 song long running time was classified as a mixtape to allegedly avoid clearing samples and paying its producers what they were owed. Atlantic Records had similar allegations thrown at them for their classification of Wiz Khalifa’s 2016 ‘mixtape’ Khalifa, showing this isn’t a rare occurrence.

It seems there is no shady business practice businessman in smokey backrooms won’t abstain from, but what can artists do to subvert label mispractice? I’d argue anyone looking to be successful in the music industry should look towards the success of independent artists, and in the UK there is no bigger success story than that of Ladbroke Grove’s very own AJ Tracey. ‘I own all my masters …

I would advise every other artist to try and do the same’, tweeted Tracey in April 2019. In the absence of effective regulation, it seems smart business practice is the only way artists can avoid exploitation.

We can only hope that that such malpractice of labels is curtailed at some point in the near future, but until then, remaining independent seems to be the way forward.

BY ALEX NEWPORT 29

A

fter a lengthy drive from Amsterdam in the space of a day, London trio Palace have every reason to be weary, yet as they embark on their biggest UK tour to date, an air of excitement lifts the faces of Leo Wyndham (vocals, guitar), Rupert Turner (guitar), and Matt Hodges (drums) outside Nottingham’s Rescue Rooms. Whilst debut record So Long Forever painted a canvas of drowsy effervescence, a series of events left the trio recoiling across an intense and cathartic chapter of their lives, the results of which are scattered across sophomore record Life After.

‘We’re braver at baring our souls and trying [new] things instrumentally,’ proclaims Wyndham, when mapping the band’s journey since 2014’s Lost In The Night EP. Whilst remaining true to their original intentions, Palace’s confidence has soared to the point where ‘nothing is wrong and there’s beauty in imperfection… it’s a safe space to express yourself’. Despite providing a safe blanket of solace, the band’s music has been anything but safe in recent years. ‘We’re messing around with varying sounds, pushing and moulding ourselves differently,’ says Wyndham, as Turner confronts the trio’s past dichotomy with experimentation: ‘we used to panic with going in certain directions, whereas now we keep wanting to find new things to explore’.

Wyndham’s lyrical development stretches a smile out of the typically composed frontman: ‘I feel more confident with writing and combining lyrics and melody’.

Highlighting the positive process of emptying heavy, negative sentiments, he proclaims that ‘you’re getting something out of yourself and voicing certain feelings and that can only be a positive thing. It’s a release of some sort’.

Whilst this newfound confidence ignited the trio’s sound in the space between So Long Forever and Life After, when faced with the pain and anguish of grief, heartache and growing older, music transitioned from staple pleasure to therapeutic necessity.

A prominent example rests in Heaven Up There – a seven-minute affirmation of resilience. ‘It went through a lot to get where it ended up… we bounced ideas around a few producers which made it more euphoric,’ says Turner. Wyndham highlights how ‘it all came together naturally… I was playing the basic chords and tried reverse for the first time, and Rupert and Matt followed on. We knew there was some gold in there… [but] realised a year later that it needed another verse and a traditional structure whilst still keeping it at seven minutes’.

As a track, Heaven Up There is a sweeping storm of instrumentation and emblematic of Life After as a whole; a rollercoaster of emotion, traversing the lamenting themes 30 of heartache and loss, yet retaining an eternal flicker of hope and continuity for the

‘We’re braver at baring our souls and trying [new] things instrumentally,’ - Wyndham future. Speaking of the record, the band are aware of the emotional pull connecting with people on a ‘steady, slow trajectory that has been building in a very natural way,’ confirms Wyndham.

Having had six months to settle, the frontman proclaims that ‘the emotions of playing new music fades after a few months of performing, but in a nice way… you can get into songs without crying. The songs then are for everyone, who can connect in their own way and with their own experiences’. By funneling out the pain, the trio are resolute in their ambition to celebrate the record. ‘We’ve turned something negative into a positive… it becomes more of a celebration’, offers Wyndham, as his hesitant, analytical conversational approach disperses for a purposeful statesmanlike fervor.

‘It’s funny when you write a song about a specific person that’s so emotionally intense.

It’s hard but over time they get used to that… they’ve understood why I need to do it – it’s expressing something and it’s cathartic’.

Whilst Life After has taken listeners on a carefully mapped journey, the record has allowed the trio a greater journey of their own on the road. ‘Selling out [London venue] The Roundhouse was a mad feeling. The venues are getting bigger… more people seem interested and it’s growing’. The recent run of dates has also given the band an opportunity to return to the melancholic camaraderie of their debut record.

‘Sometimes it is refreshing to revisit that material’, nods Turner. ‘When you’re recording an album, you get lost in those tracks so playing the older stuff you really remember how much you liked certain songs’. Hodges quickly quips that ‘it’s like a cup of tomato soup on a cold day – comforting and familiar!’.

Embarking on a lengthy live campaign supporting the new album has given the trio a newfound enthusiasm, yet their eyes are fixed forwards. ‘We’ll be writing more and keeping the ball rolling rather than keeping a big gap between new material,’ declares Turner. ‘There was a big gap between the first two albums and that definitely set us back a bit’.

Wyndham explains that ‘it’s a blank canvas at the moment, but we’re coming up with new ideas and developing them… there are more possibilities. It’s important to write and connect to what you’re feeling at the time; new music offers a journey that’s not just about death and love, you have to explore other avenues. It’s just pinning them down is the hard part’. Turner summarises the sentiment within the trio, declaring that ‘We’re finding different ways of approaching our sound and taking it on a different trajectory, but still at the same time keeping it as a “Palace sound”. We’re not reinventing the wheel’. Reinventing the wheel they may not be, but given the rigidity within the band’s creative process at first and its development since, Palace are finding ways to stay both inventive and true to their roots.

Ben Standring

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