Hania Nagy, English w/ concentration in creative writing, Class of ’20
Brief Summary: The coronavirus has changed the professional lives of many, including musicians, who spend a large part of their time touring and performing for live audiences. In the era of social distance, what is being done to support these artists? This paper discusses the changes seen in the industry due to COVID-19, critically assesses the resources and aid available to artists, and unpacks the ways in which the pandemic may have shifted our broader understanding of artistic and cultural expression.
The COVID-19 outbreak sweeps into Texas, and like every other city in the nation and across the globe, Houston becomes quiet. Some of the first people to be impacted by the pandemic’s imposition of social isolation are artists, the bulk of whose income relies on what health officials have explicitly banned: large gatherings. Musicians, who earn the bulk of their income from touring, have had to renegotiate the structure of their industry in order to keep their heads above water. This has taken the form of livestreaming bedroom concerts and pushing band merchandise, among other things. Similarly, authors have had to put their book tours on hold and find ways around physical gatherings. Houston’s creative community is vibrant and closely tied to specific establishments (namely those in Montrose). With movement in the city at a full stop, how have the music and literary scenes adapted? What are artists doing, and how have the relevant structures come to support them when they are most vulnerable?
To start, we can look at governmental aid for artists who have lost income. Texas.gov has a resources page for those in the music industry who have been affected. The Texas Music Office (part of the state government) has grants available to artists, but these are fairly limited and handed out only once per person, which doesn’t seem like a viable fix in a pandemic that is projected to last months if not longer. For Houston artists, the prerequisites to apply for grants are significant barriers. The website has 23 posted grants to which artists can apply. Out of those 23, two are open only to Austin musicians, one is only for Dallas artists, one is reserved for Fort Worth, and one is set aside for musicians from Bexar County. This leaves 18 possible grants for Houston artists. Of these 18, only one is Houston-specific; this means the other 17 are available to other applicants from around the state and therefore more competitive, since each one only has a set amount of money to distribute. Of the 18 that are available to Houston artists, one is a loan rather than a grant intended specifically for institutions and businesses rather than individual artists. One is an application for general unemployment, with no mention of musicians or artists in the description. One of these is not even a grant or loan, but rather a donation link toward a drive run by Spotify, who promises to match donations made through their link to actual institutions for musicians. Additionally, most of the remaining grants are specific to blues, jazz, and bluegrass music, each with their own prerequisites for application. One demands that applicants have ten years of full-time employment in the Gospel/Christian music field. To put this into perspective, if you are a band or musician from Houston, you have 15 grant options, if you meet all of the stipulated genre and industry requirements. Again, each grant is only a one-time benefit, so it quickly becomes clear that local government resources are not equipped to support Houston artists.
Since the government has proven itself ill-equipped to assist artists in this pandemic, it is necessary to turn to other institutions. As George Yudice writes in The Expediency of Culture, the “institutionalized political process is largely dysfunctional in responding to social needs … Consequently, the most innovative actors in setting agendas for political and social policies are grassroots movements” (6). In the current crisis, the main actors for musicians are record labels, vendors, and venues. Bandcamp.com announced on March 21 that for 24 hours, they would waive all of their fees for all music and merchandise purchased through them; proceeds went directly to artists and labels. In his book Insurgent Public Space, Jeffrey Hou finds that “privatization and commercialization of space have turned our ‘complex, multiuse public space into a one-dimensional venue for consumption’” (7). Within the context of our current crisis, however, such “one-dimensional” capitalist entities as venues and labels seem to be pushing against the mold that Hou describes, as they instead find ways to support their artists and musicians through grassroots public efforts. Music and other forms of artistic expression have cultural power as “a foundation for resistance against the ravages of [capitalism],” as Yudice puts it (6). With traditional “venues for consumption” turning towards more multidimensional frameworks of artist support, capitalism’s “premium on culture” is being challenged in new ways (Yudice 6).
Vendors with physical spaces tend to be more closely linked to communities on their own merit and thereby garner support on the basis of their presence. Some record shops, like Houston’s Cactus Music, have successfully leveraged their position as cherished spaces that straddle the public-private spheres. Community members have shown solidarity and made more purchases in support. This of course also benefits artists through music sales; while the support from buyers was likely intended to help preserve Cactus Music as a space and entity in Houston, that support also translates to benefit for artists.
Venues play an interesting role; usually, they are bars and pubs whose official sources of income are alcohol and/or food, but that have established themselves strongly as music venues. In Houston, Satellite Bar, Rudyard’s Pub, and Axelrad are examples. While they technically function as bars, they functionally act as gathering spots for musicians and fans, and so have gained a kind of credibility. Some venues have used this credibility to support other members of the Houston community: Axelrad did a promotion in the early stages of the pandemic to encourage business with restaurants in Chinatown, which unfairly lost business due to racially-based fears of contracting the disease. Rudyard’s Pub has used its influence to encourage support of medical staff and garner funds for Ben Taub’s trauma center. They have also been providing medical workers with free lunches since many are working very long shifts. White Oak Music Hall (WOMH) finds itself in a difficult position, as its main, on-paper role is a concert venue. However it too has garnered significant credibility in the community and is using that influence to start a GoFundMe page for affected artists. This seems like something that anyone could do. From my own quarantine, I could write a few paragraphs outlining the need for artist relief and start a fundraiser; however, the effect would be drastically different. For WOMH to create a page is for the venue to display solidarity with the community it represents. Its influence and name lend to the fundraiser’s credibility; at the same time, the fundraiser lends to the institution’s credibility.
While the music industry seems to be staying afloat and showing support in ways that more easily weave into capitalist systems (encouraging more record purchases, waiving purchase fees, offering discounts, philanthropy), the literary community has had to come up with alternative measures. Writers can receive benefits from general sources of aid open to all types of artists, like the Houston Arts Alliance, while writer-specific funding seems to be handled by nonprofit organizations. Nuestra Palabra has supported its Latino writing community through Facebook Livestream.
While there are some differences in how the industries have tried adapting to these changes and supporting their artists, there are some commonalities as well. Both have increased reliance on social media and other online routes to connect with fans and readers. Musicians have taken to their bedrooms and basements to livestream intimate, stripped-down performances, to great reception by fans. In a similar vein, some literary entities (such as Bloomsday Literary) have urged the support of virtual book tours to compensate for authors’ physical book tours that were cancelled. There is a kind of intimacy being built, as well as a temporary lifting of barriers (transportation, cost, etc.) that both types of artists have been able to achieve in this lack of physical gathering.
Works Cited
“Assistance Information and Resources for Music Industry Professionals Affected by COVID-
19” March 17, 2020. https://gov.texas.gov/music/post/assistance-information-and-resources-for-music-industry-professionals-affected-by-covid-19
“Axelrad Hopes to Boost Business in Chinatown” February 21, 2020. <https://www.chron.com/
life/food/article/Axelrad-hopes-to-boost-business-in-Chinatown-by-15074623.php>
“Cactus Music + Covid-19 Virus” March 2020. <https://cactusmusictx.com/news/2743/>
“Covid-19 Resources for the Arts Community” 2020. < https://ready.haatx.com/covid-19>
Solomon, Dan. “Watching Your Favorite Musicians Play Shows From Their Bedrooms is Pretty
Great.” Texas Monthly, March 28, 2020. Online. < https://www.texasmonthly.com/the-culture/watching-your-favorite-musicians-play-shows-from-their-bedrooms-is-pretty-great/>
Yudice, George. The Expediency of Culture: Uses of Culture in the Global Era. Duke University
Press, Durham and London, 2003.
