Modern punks write love songs: Music won’t be truly inclusive until it deals with its class issue
If you ever need proof that music can be a form of escapism, just listen to the work of artists from different class backgrounds. Stereotypically, upper-class, privately educated musicians write anti-establishment anthems, while the working class pen love songs. Modern punks don’t dream of anarchy—they dream of a world where they’re seen and heard, a world that seems to drift further and further away.
Sam Fender recently released his new album, People Watching, which has been received incredibly well by both fans and critics. No one was surprised when his record was a reflection of great songwriting and true-to-life themes, but they were surprised when Fender hardly spoke out to promote the record. He didn’t do a lot of interviews in a bid to promote the album, but when he did, he delivered a scathing indictment on the state of the modern music industry.
While talking to the Sunday Times, Fender expressed his guilt about making it as a songwriter while his friends who inspired his songs and encouraged him to pursue his career still live on council estates. That guilt resonates beyond his personal bubble and extends to unheard voices in the musical world.
“The music industry is 80%, 90% kids who are privately educated,” he said. “A kid from where I’m from can’t afford to tour, so there are probably thousands writing songs that are ten times better than mine, poignant lyrics about the country, but they will not be seen because it’s rigged.”
This is one of those sentiments persistently echoed throughout music, to the point that it hardly seems to be acknowledged anymore. We constantly talk about how music needs to be inclusive and how people in the arts should be a representation of those who will be consuming said art, but with every year that passes, the working class is pushed out of it even further.
Fender raises a good point: While we are constantly looking to include a more diverse range of people in music, the industry seems reluctant to offer assistance to the working class. “People are very unaware,” he commented. “We are very good at talking about privileges – white, male or straight privilege. We rarely talk about class, though.”
A post shared on social media echoed Fender’s sentiments, raising the point that most people nominated for the prestigious award came from, unsurprisingly, prestigious backgrounds: “Congratulations to BRIT winners Charli XCX (Bishop’s Stortford College, £38,319 per year), AG Cook (King Alfred School, £27,747) and The Last Dinner Party (Bedales, £52,075) for showing that people from ordinary backgrounds can reach the top in pop music, that most egalitarian of art forms. (And all presented by Jack Whitehall (who attended Oxford University’s prep school ‘Dragon’… £52K)).”
The class divide in music doesn’t just stop at people who attended the Brits, either. A lot of punk and edgy bands you love also come from upper-class backgrounds, have been educated professionally and privately in music and then have the audacity to use their unfair access to the arts to preach about an “unfair” society. You would think that if they were so annoyed by the way the system has been stacked against the working class, they should just ask their parents to do something about it, but they would decide to sell records instead.
This is nothing new. The history of art is flooded with working-class people coming up with original and exciting ideas, only to be priced out of the industry by people who work out how to monetise their honesty more effectively. Since the 1970s, when music was more of a level playing field, the number of working-class people who make music careers has decreased by over half.
There are reasons why people from upper-class backgrounds have a better chance of succeeding in music. The first is that they are already in the right circles to get their music in front of the right people. These groups are small but effective. A quick word to a friend of a friend, and suddenly, you’re receiving social media advice from the head of marketing at a high-value record label and have A&R departments across the country listening to you.
One of the other huge advantages, though, comes down to the risks that upper-class people are able to take. The working classes can’t fail. If they put their savings into recording an EP that record labels hate, they lose everything. Equally, a trip to Brighton to play The Great Escape or overseas to try their hand at SXSW is an absolute non-starter. They need to think about the next paycheck and supporting themselves and others around them. Music is fickle, and therefore, pursuing it as a career full-time can’t be seriously entertained by those who don’t have anything else to rely on.
Upper-class artists can afford not to sell tickets and have nobody care about them for the first few years of their careers. They can continue touring, releasing music, and keeping PR companies engaged because they have funds ready to go and savings to fall back on if they decide to eventually call it a day.
To quote a working class voice in music, “Still you’ll never get it right, ’cause when you’re laid in bed at night, watching roaches climb the wall, if you called your Dad, he could stop it all.”
People in the music industry love patting themselves on the back for hearing marginalised voices, and while the increased diversity across the music industry can only ever be seen as a positive, there is a constant reluctance to push out the working class, and it can’t be considered a truly inclusive industry unless this is addressed. There’s a reason why an artist like Sam Fender is doing so well: he writes from a place of honesty and is someone that people can connect with as a result. There are other artists like him out there, and it’s the music industry’s job, no, their undeniable duty, to find them.
