Clearly it’s been impossible to consider doing a new issue of Weird Girls Post in light of all the protests happening in the country right now. Nobody needs a tone deaf missive about my twee ass Appalachian horse life when the world is quite literally burning down.
But as it’s Bandcamp Friday, I wanted to say something about music people and music family—because I think what’s happening today is really important to note.
I use the phrase “music people” a lot because it’s useful shorthand for differentiating between people who enjoy music as entertainment or see it as a stepping stone to clout or capital, and those who have dedicated our lives to the health of the art by playing an active part of the community that sustains it. The contrast is starkly visible in how music people are using today’s Bandcamp fundraiser to meet this insane and racist moment in history versus Tuesday’s muddled and toothless Music Industry Blackout statement.
Music people were not the ones behind that entirely performative social media-focused initiative, its silent chorus of black squares serving only to emphasize how useless the industry has been when it comes to acknowledging and compensating the work of black musicians. To deem themselves “gatekeepers of the culture” in their messaging was superficially gross, but also terribly revealing in its self-importance.
But music people are the ones behind all the fundraising for racial justice, bail funds, and mutual aid organizations going on during today’s Bandcamp fee-free day in what is an astonishing show of solidarity from the music community. Lest we forget, artists generally make no fucking money so voluntarily committing to giving it away on a day when they are likely to earn the most is a hugely meaningful gesture that shouldn’t be overlooked or downplayed in any way.
This is the part where I say that I work for Bandcamp and that nothing written here should be taken as being an endorsement of them or by them, which is true. The inspiration for this piece springs entirely from my own personal joy at what I see happening around me and with all recognition of my privilege to be able to help facilitate a widespread exchange of mutual support in a time of massive need.
But not for one moment have I lost sight of the fact that all of this is happening in spite of what a music tech company chooses to do and not because of it. Bandcamp is a conduit for the love and solidarity happening today, not the instigator—in fact, much of this organizing was already going on, with many people committed to continue donating for the foreseeable future. This is not “gatekeeping.” These are the members of a worldwide music community actively choosing to use their voices and their art and their money to demand racial justice and change both in their own artistic field and in the world at large, interrogating themselves and their peers in order to build a more equitable, radical future. This is not the music industry. This is music family.
We have a long way to go, obviously, and I don’t mean to dismiss the capitalist roots of popular music or the many ways it has been used in the service of white supremacy; but I would like to think what we are seeing today in music is an expression of the DIY punk moral center that has always been the guiding ethos of true music people the world over, no matter how sapped of meaning the terms “DIY” and “punk” have become, thanks to mealy-mouthed industry fuckheads co-opting the terms to more effectively market, for example, ridiculous music festivals with corporate sponsor lists a mile long. It was always in the best interests of the powers-that-be to frame ethical concerns as corny or outdated because anything without a moral center is more easily exploited. But everyone who ever said “selling out no longer exists” to justify their own lack of principles has watched the hegemonic systems of power that fed and rewarded such myopic foolishness crumble within the weeks, so pay no attention to those bootlickers as they shrivel into irrelevance in this new world. They were never one of us.
On an embarrassingly personal note, I would like to say that music is and has always been the great joy of my life. Most everything good that has ever happened to me happened because I loved music and the people I’ve met through it. In times of great isolation and sadness, it has been my music family that have helped me to feel connected to the world. So I have tried with all my heart to repay that generosity by using whatever talent and platform I’ve been given to uplift the art and the artists who need the help with as much integrity possible. This is why I’ve never subscribed to the idea that music journalism is a frivolous or unnecessary pursuit—I actually find such an assertion to be offensive, honestly. Because something in this horrible world needs to be good. For me, that thing is and will always be music. If I can in any way be a conduit for that goodness, then that is the reason I write about music and the reason I was born. I am proud to be a music person and even prouder to be part of the music family, not just today, but every day.
Great friends of mine from Denver have a band called American Culture. I met them while booking shows in Los Angeles and we have remained in contact ever since. When the band played a show in LA, they gifted me a t-shirt emblazoned with the phrase: You Are One Of Us. You Belong.
You are one of us. You belong.
Wishing the music family health and safety today and every day. Power to the people, especially the artists.
MT
Fort Pet, West Virginia