ENHANCING THE ALBUM: CLASSIC ALBUM SUNDAYS

I had the pleasure of attending a recent Classic Album Sundays event (on a Monday) and enjoyed it a lot. Here is a short review in the spirit of my current theme of what it takes to make a classic album. In this case, one made in 1974!

Do we really ever listen to records the way we used to? Despite the ever-rising popularity of vinyl and the resilience of the album format, I doubt there is a corresponding rise in ‘focused listening’ at home - the idea of putting the record on, sitting back on the sofa and just - listening

There are a few ‘experience brands’ out there that make an event out of doing just that but away from home. I’ve written about Pitchblack Playback before, here I’m going to talk about Classic Album Sundays. It was founded by DJ Colleen ‘Cosmo’ Murphy way back in 2010 in a North London pub, with the intention of promoting enjoyment of true listening as the age of digital music began to take hold. According to the website, Classic Album Sundays “tells the stories behind the albums that have shaped our culture.”

It does so incredibly well. I’ve been to a few of these events over the years but just recently I attended a session on one of my all-time favourite albums, Supertramp’s 1974 masterpiece Crime Of The Century. A lush staging at the Elgar Rooms (on an otherwise dormant evening at London’s Royal Albert Hall) was the perfect setting for a jovial, relaxed but informative chat between host Colleen and the album’s producer Ken Scott (a legend in the world of sound design). 

The two had clearly done this routine a few times before. The best thing though, was anticipating hearing a classic album through a pair of incredibly high end KEF speakers. No surround sound or fancy spatial mixes (though sometimes those events are cool as well). Instead, Colleen rocks up to a turntable and simply drops the needle on the vinyl (and again to turn the record over to side two). 

If you do not know the album you are missing out. Crime Of The Century is an epic journey of a record, despite being only eight songs long. It achieves a similar feel to, say, Pink Floyd’s Dark Side Of The Moon and indeed explores the same themes - isolation, detachment, mental health - very much the darker side of human existence from the perspective of youth. 

My favourite insight here was of the unusual sound effects for the album which were recorded live from real locations - a London School and Paddington Station among them (the announcement included station stops where both Roger Hodgson and Rick lived at the time). The track Hide In Your Shell contained a professional musical saw player. When asked what he was proud of about his work on the album, Scott was simple and clear. “Depth. These days with spatial audio and all that, you can easily achieve depth - but back then it was much harder. But I wanted to get the depth even with a stereo recording”. Well, he certainly achieved it, as we witnessed through those awesome loudspeakers.

Classic Album Sundays makes you realise the amount of work that goes into making an album (all the records are de facto, classics) by both accident and design. The little insights fascinate. Scott spent his first two days on the record just trying to get the right drum sound. The band’s gear was “well worn, having been on the road a lot”. As such, that old kit was part of the album’s DNA. 

These events are a way of getting insider stories about the artists too. Supertramp’s joint leaders and songwriters Roger Hodgson and Rick Davies had a famous falling out that led the band to irrevocable break up. But in those earlier days, they blended beautifully. Scott compared the two to Lennon (Davies) and McCartney (Hodgson, “a partnership, they were together but separate at the same time”). They were that good. Most of all it reminds you to listen, both as a fan, an appreciator of the art form, and, as a mindful activity - a sort of antidote to the usual distractions you get at home. 

I came away from the evening having made a renewed vow to make regular appointments to listen to my favourite records all over again, mostly in the comfort and convenience of my own home but perhaps occasionally out in a social setting and special environment. Spotify is doing a classic album series featuring editors talking shop about their favourites, but it would be much better for the brand or other streaming services to lean in more fully and sponsor events like this. Well worth the modest ticket price and an alternative to a live show.

Colleen Murphy interviews Ken Scott

Classic Album Sundays is on the internet too

Post Pitchfork - five ways for music journalism to survive

Since the news of Pitchfork “folding” into GQ magazine in early January, a few people have asked me what I think about it. I’ve read a few of the eulogies and share the sad sentiment of most of them, but I’m generally more optimistic about the role and future of music writers. Sort of. Here, I’m summing up five ways in which music writing can survive (and by that, I mean thrive) and I mention a few of my own favourite music editorial brands.

Photo by Simon Noh on Unsplash

We cannot put the genie back in the bottle when it comes to the commercial viability of music magazines. Pitchfork was really the last music media ‘empire’. It grew from a humble blog into a multi-revenue music media business, eventually succumbing to an acquisition by an unlikely mothership in Conde Naste, at a time when that company desperately needed ‘digital first’ media properties.

No other music media brand has succeeded on any significant scale since. 

The short version of the story is that Pitchfork had its day. Its heyday lasted well over a decade - not a bad run, even compared with legendary music media brands of the golden age of music journalism, like Rolling Stone or NME. Pitchfork’s digital presence made it more than just an editorial brand, however. It became a destination for music lovers, aficionados and obsessives, and eventually outgrew its original “white male hipster” tone of voice to become more inclusive and diverse.

And then got a bit too big for its boots. In some cases it became a concern for artists that had been “built on Pitchfork” (with famous 8.something review scores) but who could also be then subsequently marked down, or snubbed altogether. Mind you, the point of music media coverage is that it cannot keep on writing about every artist, but be a curated source of discerning taste and discovery - and perhaps more importantly - a way of enjoying a deeper connection to music and artists. But those infamous review scores (still a central feature of Pitchfork even now) matter much less in today’s music economy. As reviews waned in relevance, all of Pitchfork’s various income streams probably just withered away gradually. 

So now, can “niche” media thrive? In music’s case, it looks unlikely, some examples of music brands I like: She Shreds, a ‘magazine’ built around the growing community of female guitarists, is a great concept, but seems to have struggled to find a solid format. At one time, it was a physical magazine but is now essentially a blog with a focus more on YouTube videos (“She Shreds TV”) than the written word. Loud & Quiet seems to have sustained a physical format magazine through a subscription model and merch store - wryly with a strapline ‘moderately successful’. Its “Midnight Chats” podcast seems to have become established as a long-term show. 

This first way to succeed then, is to move away from the written word as the central focus, to video or audio (podcast) first. At least that way, there is distribution, by way of the usual giant social media and streaming platforms. 

Goldflake Paint, The Quietus and many more - all had moments of relevance (on a much smaller scale than Pitchfork) but could not find viability beyond being blogs with Patreon style funding and a bit of ad revenue (though The Quietus successfully diversified into artist management). 

Personally I love So Young. It is a UK-based ‘zine’ built around the resurgence of guitar bands. On a modest scale, it has built a community, subscriber base, (another) cool merch brand, and has branched out into a small label and live music booking agency. If it does well with the artists it represents, and those artists continue to value it and pay back those favours, it could grow into something relevant. It is the commercialisation of a cultural scene. Viable, albeit on a smaller scale. An so here is the second way - quickly build your media brand or zine into a ‘real business’ - talent management or a record label, for example. 

So Young Magazine issue 47 cover

Meanwhile, post Pitchfork, what constitutes dream press for an artist? I recently posed this question to Martin Courtney of New Jersey indie ‘stalwarts’ Real Estate and his answer was revealing: “I guess a spread in the New Yorker - something that reached a new and interesting audience for us”.

Well, Sir Lucian Grange is already ahead of the curve on that one. In which case the future of music journalism is perhaps, to be subsumed into broader literary and lifestyle titles. Just like Pitchfork and GQ. And so this is the third way: music writing incorporated within larger media brands, from The New Yorker to Waitrose Weekend magazine (or my favourite, McSweeney’s The Believer music issue). I saw something recently on social media about the imminent relaunch of Q Magazine. Perhaps it should actually be launched as the editorial sub-brand within Amazon Music, Apple Music or even as part of a news media empire (if there are any left). 

Meanwhile, film writing seems to have all the same issues as music, but has a few more innovative solutions. After a decade in existence, the music buff app Letterboxd seems to be gaining traction among young audiences beyond aficionados. So this is a fourth way - to mix up pro journalism with UGC and fan community content i.e. go the way of the app. I even tried something similar to this myself with The Song Sommelier (where you are reading this) - having music super fans write and curate alongside professional journalists. It’s still a thing, potentially. 

Commercial viability and income streams remain a challenge for all four routes. 

But I mentioned a fifth as well I think?

Well, while music journalism suffers chronic illness, you might have noticed that the ‘music business’ is rampant, with major labels making millions of dollars a day. A few years ago Warner Music acquired a media brand (Uproxx). [N.B. just a few days after I wrote this, WMG announced it was effectively jettisoning Uproxx and “owned and operated” media, so I guess this final option is indeed the way to go, as an alternative, read on]. UMG owns the UMusic Media Network, describing it as “a comprehensive media and data offering to uniquely connect brands and partners with exclusive media from world’s largest music company and most iconic and influential artists”.

Even if, like me, you cannot quite figure out what that means, the point is that labels and artists need music press. Artists love to get press - it may be less effective than a playlist add or TikTok viral moment, but it is validation, affirmation, depth. But rather than ‘own’ somewhat compromised media brands, why don’t labels use all their streaming catalogue money to invest in the music media outlets out there? Buy their ads, sponsor some paid content, invest (again UMG recently invested in indie radio network NTS in  a low key but important way). While music press should enjoy editorial independence, look around. How much established news coverage and features in national premium news is “paid content”?  

So music journalism is able to survive in different forms. It feels like it is possible to create new platforms for music discussion, discovery and enjoyment - perhaps just not in the form of branded multi-feature music magazines.


The Art of Longevity podcast Season 9 preview with Real Estate, is out released in early February 2024.

NATIONAL ALBUM DAY 2023: Alice In Chains 1992 stone cold classic ‘Dirt’

There’s nothing like music to take you back. Some 30 years ago (at the start of my professional career) I was what you might call an angry young man. Music has always imbibed me with a kind of fuel and at that particular time it was the music of Alice In Chains, which was fuelling my anger rather nicely. 

Back in 1992 I was on some major IT systems project for an energy company, in the employ of Andersen Consulting, the behemoth now known as Accenture. I was sharing a flat with a studious American called Floyd and a conscientious, ambitious young lady called Heidi, neither of whom could make head nor tail of me or my anger issues. 

To Floyd & Heidi, that project was the place to be, the pinnacle of professional assignments. To me it sucked. So much so, I would start my days with a loud blast of Alice In Chains’ ‘Dirt’ (I’m talking LOUD and before 8 am too). I must have been the flatmate from hell. Belated apologies Floyd & Heidi wherever you are. Although Heidi, I will ever forgive you for showing me a spreadsheet with a list of names on whose jobs were on the chopping block. Like I said, it sucked. 

For those unfamiliar, Dirt is a stone cold classic. It is unforgiving, relentless, driving, bleak, but at the same time as melodic as rock gets. It was my album of the year (I used to keep a top 20 list) and over time has become my de facto “album of the 90s”. 

So for National Album Day 2023 with its 90s theme, it seemed like the appropriate thing to do to pop along to my local record shop, Roan Records Teddington and buy the remastered reissue. Listening session is now highly anticipated. Although these days I am no longer so angry (and not so young either). 

Here are some highlights from Dirt:

  1. Would. The most thrilling, hairs-on-the-back-of-the-neck metal song, ever. I first heard it on the Tommy Vance Friday Rock Show and when I did, I knew it was totally different to anything else I’d ever heard, and I grew up on rock & metal. 

  2. Jerry Cantrell. The band’s songwriter, lead guitarist and co-lead/harmony vocalist. Cantrell's guitar playing often uses the wah-wah and follows off-kilter time signatures but most of all - he uses down-tuned open stringed chords that put him in the club with Tony Iommi and other great rock players. And, he is melodious. He’s a genius. 

  3. Layne Staley’s lead vocals. Layne had what is called in the music trade ‘a signature voice’. One that screamed pain, melancholy, anger and yet soared. His harmonising with guitarist/vocalist Jerry Cantrell made Alice In Chains sound utterly unique. The fact that the band found a way to replace him (after his death in 2002) is a miracle. 

  4. Rooster. Possibly the best rock song ever about Vietnam, Cantrell wrote it for his war veteran Dad. It virtually takes you deep into the hell of the jungle. It actually feels dangerous to listen to. 

  5. Them Bones. When I first bought my copy of Dirt and put it on the CD player, Them Bones frightened me. I wasn’t sure if I was equal to the record if that makes sense. I thought it was going to be too hardcore for me. Yet I grew to love it - all two and a half angry urgent minutes of it. As an opener, it is one hell of a statement. 

  6. Dave Jerden’s production and Brian Carlstrom’s sound engineering. I’m not technical and can’t say my ears are finely tuned, but I think the very best rock records always owe something to the studio teams. In this case, the sludgey, dirgey and heavy chords and riffs don’t completely drown the record, they are equal in the mix with the vocals and rhythm section. It’s actually a very balanced listen that makes it accessible. 

  7. Rain When I Die. Jerry Cantrell writes some monster riffs, and this one is an absolute beast. It’s King Kong and Godzilla. 

  8. Down In A Hole. A superb, bleak-as-anything ballad that shifts the album’s pace - takes things down a notch. Brilliant. 

  9. Angry Chair. A spooky and dark thing that comes from the “scary verse to soaring chorus” song school, it should be on anyone’s half-decent Halloween movie soundtrack playlist. 

  10. The album's cover art. The cover features a young woman half-buried in a cracked desert landscape. It is photographed by Rocky Schenck, who created the image along with the album's art director, Mary Maurer. It’s scary and depicts the album’s contents very well indeed. Even in the CD era, it is a classic ‘metal’ album cover. 

Dirt’s legend has grown steadily over three decades. Michael Christopher of PopMatters wrote "the record wasn't celebratory by any means – but you'll be hard pressed to find a more brutally truthful work laid down – and that's why it will always be one of the greatest records ever made."

I would imagine the making of the record was fraught. Staley was recently out of rehab but back on heroin and drummer Sean Kinney and bassist Mike Starr were also struggling with alcohol addiction. Recording began during the Los Angeles riots that erupted following the acquittal of four LAPD officers who had beaten Rodney King. Yet the band was clearly on a huge creative streak and had matured since their 1990 debut album Facelift. The drug addiction at the heart of the album’s subject core gave the record a concept album feel.

Nobody should ever say drugs and addiction make for great records and the idea of suffering for art’s sake is usually total bunk. However, Dirt remains an exception. A stone cold classic. 

Pushing the album to its limits

I’m writing up my experience listening to Christine & The Queens new album with Pitchblack Playback - which I thoroughly recommend to all music fans

We live in a visual world of short form video, of TikTok and Instagram scrolls - almost permanent nagging distractions and a conveyor belt instant gratification. Much of this applies to our relationship with music. If you follow enough artists, you can feel like you are consuming their work without ever actually listening to their records. 

Yet music albums were designed to be the polar opposite of this. Albums are meant to be an immersive, focused experience. The only distraction should be to get off the sofa and turn the record over. This is the ethos of Pitchblack Playback. The British curation and experience brand encourages music fans to “hear classic (and new) albums & exclusive pre-release premieres on powerful, immersive sound systems, in the dark”. Founded way back in 2006, the brand survived the pandemic to expand into a global presence.

Listening to whole albums from start to finish in almost complete darkness (augmented courtesy of a free eye mask - which can make you feel like you are about to take a long haul flight) might sound challenging when you consider the times we live in, but it is a refreshingly fun experience. 

This most recent event was one of a series by Pitchblack that celebrates the best albums of 2023. The event was held in partnership with L-ACOUSTICS Creations at the brand's Highgate listening room. 

This meant we were about to hear the record in a completely different way, via L ACOUSTIC’s 18.12.1 sound system, comprising 18 highly responsive Syva speakers, 12 ambient speakers in the room’s ceiling and then bottomed out with 24 subs-woofers. However, the combined 50,000 watts of power never sounds too loud or overbearing in this room, which is something to be appreciated. We (around 25 lucky musos) were greeted with a free drink and ushered in, each anticipative listener issued with their own beanbag & headrest.

And so to the record in question: Christine & The Queens’ most recent release PARANOIA, ANGELS, TRUE LOVE. Now this happens to be one of my personal choices of the year and will feature prominently in our Song Sommelier ’Decanted’ for 2023. 

The album is sonically incredible anyhow, so how would it sound rendered in spatial audio in the dark? As one happy listener remarked during the interval (it is a 96 minute long record) the answer is “a real treat”.

There isn’t a minute of this record I don’t love. Across its 20 tracks, it has fine arrangements and comes together as a concept album (in my own fantasy, it’s as if George Michael recorded the soundtrack to Blade Runner 3).

However, remarkably, the record really consists of four sonic elements: bass, voice, beats and synth. Via the medium of L ACOUSTICS systems, each of those elements is given a massive shot of Compound V.

The bass isn’t just deep, it is heart-palping and body-vibrating. However, it is never threatening but always warm and welcome - like a cuddle from a friendly alien life force.

Christine’s voice is sharp and clear, with the spoken word elements on songs such as the extraordinary “Track 10” particularly striking (the same goes for Madonna’s spoken cameos on two tracks, which are very Blade Runner-esque). 

Meanwhile the drumming is incredible. Performed by Darren King on the record, the mix here adds a depth to his work that surprises and delights (and stops you falling asleep which is hard to resist under the circumstances). 

Finally the synths and sonic effects on the album are given added spatial dimension without adding anything gimmicky.

The occasion does transform you. It either has your mind wandering pleasantly or, at its best, simply lost in the music. The Pitchblack Playback rituals (including an introduction and pep talk by Founder Ben Gomori) provide an excuse to be disciplined about actually listening and doing nothing else (it should come with a ‘just you try this at home’ warning).

It’s well worth a modest ticket price. As an alternative to a movie, theatre, gig or night out eating & drinking it stands up very well if you’re a music fan. And it might just be more memorable if you get the right record, so make an evening of it.

On its release, PARANOIA, ANGELS, TRUE LOVE was (bafflingly) received by critics with mixed reviews. Helen Brown of The Independent summarised the album as "requiring serious investment on the listener's part". But Helen forgot to mention the payback.

They should all have gone along to this and eaten their words during the interval.

For many bands, the hiatus can be the key to longevity

Following the highly accomplished 2012 album Heaven, cult American indie band The Walkmen went on a decade long hiatus. But now they have reformed. In a recent interview with the band’s frontman Hamilton Leithauser, Vulture magazine referred to the now infamously long career break by The Walkmen as “a particularly noticeable void”. I would go a lot further than that. I (and a million other fans) grieved the loss of The Walkmen, because in the indie landscape they offered something unique.

The Walkmen were a monogamous band, up until the break. None of the members did any solo projects, but dedicated themselves to the band they had formed together as young friends in their early 20s. As frontman Hamilton Leithauser told me recently on The Art of Longevity:

“We were caught in this marriage we couldn’t get out of”. 

Difficult Marriages don’t have to end in divorce. On this show, the idea of the hiatus as a healer of bands/marriages is not unusual. Tears For Fears were separated for 19 years. Suede for a decade - about the same as The Walkmen. Some bands announced a break-up (James even did the farewell tour) but others just go their separate ways and don’t make a song and dance about it. 

But it turns out the hiatus is a good thing. Those above named bands have come back in style. Critically revered new records, sold-out tours, renewed cultural relevance and most of all, younger audiences.

But the interesting thing is that culturally, these bands never really went away. And so it is with The Walkmen. Their songs and fandom lived on through the extended break - even grew in their absence. This is perhaps the true miracle of music in the streaming era. Hamilton and the others were surprised and delighted to return to playing shows to loyal audiences both old and new, the younger fans among them singing every word of those old songs. 

In the modern music biz, when the talk is of “always-on” creation, 24/7 content and acute FOMO, maybe the most valuable move a band can make is to not succumb to any of that, but to instead have the nerve and the confidence to do what’s necessary - even if that is nothing. Hamilton puts the stresses of modern day bands into perspective:

“It’s exhausting physically and mentally - in the long run. After you’ve done a bunch of records you think “do I really wanna do another rock & roll record, no I don’t think I do”, then it becomes about what you really want to do next”. 

Of course, there are risks to a hiatus, such as fans losing interest, band members growing apart, or facing challenges when trying to regain their momentum after a prolonged break. However, if managed well and used as an opportunity for growth and rejuvenation, a hiatus can be a positive thing for rock bands and their artistic journey.

A good management team will make the most of a band reclaiming and building on their legacy and cultural impact, while making a comeback schedule fun - something joyous for bands and fans alike.

The hiatus has a lot to offer:

Creative Rejuvenation: Musicians and artists, like any creative individuals, may experience burnout or creative fatigue after touring extensively and producing albums consistently. Making a living in the modern music business is relentless and not for the faint-hearted. Taking a break allows them to step back from it all, explore new influences, and find fresh inspiration. This can lead to a revitalized creative output when the comeback is on. For evidence, see Suede.

Individual Pursuits: During a hiatus, band members can choose to explore individual projects or collaborate with other artists. This can help them grow as musicians and contribute to the diversity of their skills, which can ultimately benefit the band when they reunite.

Avoiding Stagnation: Sometimes, bands can fall into a pattern of producing similar-sounding music over time. A hiatus provides an opportunity for members to reflect on their musical direction and come back with a more evolved and unique sound.

Building Anticipation: As the saying goes, "absence makes the heart grow fonder." Going on hiatus can create a sense of longing and anticipation among fans. When the band eventually returns, it can lead to increased interest, higher demand for concerts and albums, and a generally enthusiastic fan base. Streaming has undoubtedly made this process even more of an asset.

Preserving Legacy: Sometimes, bands choose to go on hiatus to preserve their legacy and avoid becoming irrelevant or oversaturated in the market. By stepping back for a while, they can maintain the impact and significance of their past work.

Five bands who benefitted from the hiatus (i.e. on the Art of Longevity future invitations list!):

a-ha: In 1994, the band unofficially entered a hiatus, during which band members focused on solo projects. They came back in 2000 with a fine album Minor Earth, Major Sky but later embarked on a farewell tour. After reforming in 2015 the band has embarked on several new projects and under excellent management, remain a powerful creative-commercial force.

Blink-182: Blink-182 went on hiatus in 2005 and returned in 2009 with a different lineup. They've experienced lineup changes and hiatus periods at different points in their career but their most recent tour has broken records for ticket sales and the band’s streaming count has doubled.

My Chemical Romance: After disbanding in 2013, My Chemical Romance announced their reunion in 2019. It has taken a while but new material is emerging from the band.

Rage Against the Machine: The metal/hip hop legends went on hiatus in 2000 and reunited for a few performances over the years. However, they announced another hiatus after their "L.A. Rising" show in 2011. They've reunited once again for tours and performances since then.

Fall Out Boy: Fall Out Boy announced an indefinite hiatus in 2009. They reunited in 2013 and have been active since then.


This blog was aided by Chat GPT but checked and edited. The Walkmen were on The Art of Longevity episode 49!

For music fans, vinyl is the best way to commit

On a record shopping trip in Madrid, I recently purchased a vinyl copy of My Morning Jacket’s self-titled 9th studio album. It’s a fabulous record, as you might expect. As good as The Waterfall and its sequel The Waterfall II. As good as anything the band have done thus far. 

Why am I telling you this?

Because the album was released in October 2021. And I finally decided to purchase the vinyl in May 2023. My reasoning is thus:

I really love MMJ

I know I like this album - because I already streamed it

But I hadn’t streamed it nearly enough to get to know it

And I hadn’t streamed it all the way through

And, in all likelihood, I never would

In other words, if I didn’t choose to own this album on vinyl I would never get to know if it would become a record I love. 

The problem is well understood - the onslaught of endless music available on streaming takes away this sense of familiar, repeated listening that builds the connection between the listener and a record. Well, it does for me anyway. 

Streaming has its benefits. For everything to be previewable and available, music releases week-in-week-out are the gift that keeps on giving to us music fans. But the more I appreciate the world of music on vinyl, the more I recognise what streaming takes away. The only solution for me is the self-imposed scarcity and curation that comes through committing to own a collection. Even if that collection is a fraction of the music I get to hear, it will be the majority of the music I listen to most. 

I must say, the vinyl version of My Morning Jacket is so wonderfully packaged too. It comes in double-vinyl album form with a gatefold sleeve. It has beautiful artwork designed by Robert Beatty. It has a foldout poster of the cover in there (even if it doesn’t end up coming out of the sleeve, much). The inner sleeve of each disc has the lyrics on one side and all-important in-studio band photography on the other. It’s a cliche I know, but it is one of those albums that you put on and then stare at the cover while listening to it, true 70s style. It’s worth saying also that the listening experience is totally different. Played through a turntable, amp and decent speakers everything sounds much more like the artist probably intended when they made the record. 

So those are the listener/music buyer benefits, but just think too, of the benefits to the artist. An indie record exec recently told me that one of the label's bands made $25,000 revenue in a single ‘Bandcamp Friday’ weekend through vinyl sales alone. The equivalent amount would take over eight million streams, which would take a band like MMJ the best part of one year to achieve. 

Artists love vinyl because it is more economically viable but also because it feels like a format that is ‘becoming of the art’. The whole package makes a music album a worthwhile product - an affordable luxury. 

Now, I know vinyl isn’t affordable to everyone, I get that. However, it delights me that a vinyl collection and a record player are aspirations for younger music fans - millennials and genZs. The music industry might congratulate itself on reviving an old technology, but it has Netflix to thank to some extent. The streaming video service is much more a maker of trends than the music industry could hope to be, and just about every cool teen drama, from Stranger Things to Euphoria, features a scene in which a vinyl setup is the essential accessory of coolness. 

Back to My Morning Jacket. On the album, there is a track called Lucky To Be Alive, in which Jim James sings: 

The technology came and stole my living again
Ain't nobody buying records no more
Oh well, they cut off all the bread that used to keep us fed
So thanks for coming to the show

You know I ain't gonna crawl and I ain't gonna beg
I'm gonna write my own rules for life
And so I head out on the road, you know we gonna make it work
I feel lucky to be alive

Now when Jim wrote this back during the pandemic, it was before the shifting sands in the live music business. Once the lifeblood for many established music artists, touring has been hit by rising costs, falling ticket prices, lacklustre crowds, venue closures and visa problems. As such many bands cannot head out for the road to make decent money any more. 

The good news for Jim is that folks are buying records again. For one, I’m committed and many other music fans I know feel the same way. I don’t want to create a travesty of plastic and cardboard that sits on a shelf conspicuously (some of us are still recovering from the excessive CD era) but by choosing carefully, I’m happy to be playing every record I buy enough to justify the price. And let’s face it, there is plenty of choice out there and streaming a useful try-before-you-buy utility. 

In all sincerity, vinyl records have improved the quality of my life considerably. And we know these are sometimes not easy times to live through. I urge you to double down on your double albums. You won’t regret it. After all, music at its best makes us feel lucky to be alive. 


In Madrid I shopped in Marilians

Buy a record today on Bandcamp

Listen to my conversation about the craft of the album with Ben Folds on The Art of Longevity

When it comes to longevity, the song remains the thing

[This piece was originally written and published by The Ivor’s Academy ]

Was it Stephen Sondheim who said that writing a hit musical provided absolutely no insight whatsoever as to how to write another one? Perhaps the same principle applies to hit songs. Songcraft remains at the heart of success for music artists in every way – critical, commercial, self-actual – the song is the ultimate unit of currency in the music industry. The Art of Longevity podcast is now five short seasons in (34 episodes) and I’m still discovering more ‘secrets to success’ for long careers in music, so many of which revolve around songs. 

Take Tears For Fears. The iconic British pop duo hold the highest accolade in songwriting – an Ivor Novello for Outstanding Song Collection. It was therefore fascinating (and disconcerting) to hear about how Roland Orzabal and Curt Smith were locked in a songwriting camp for over a year, with an elite group of hitmaker writers and producers in (a fruitless) search for hit tunes. Eventually, Roland and Curt abandoned the project altogether. Instead, they started from scratch as a duo – the way they wrote songs 40 years ago for The Hurting – and with great results (listen to the second side of their most recent album The Tipping Point).

As the music industry heads further towards new levels of industrialisation and commodification, it is heartening to know that some things can never really change. Despite the best efforts of AI and computers, and large teams of songwriters, the very best songs are still created by just one or two hearts and minds. It is something the tech community that so engulfs the music industry these days might try to appreciate a bit more. 

Songs may be getting shorter, and some writers and producers might well look to a formula when it comes to navigating the streaming algorithms, but really – the song remains the same. 

Here are five more of my favourite songwriter stories I’ve discovered through my conversations with songwriters on the Art of Longevity. 

The song that takes you further than you imagine

Hang out for a day with UK ‘alternative radio’ (if indeed it still exists) and at some stage you will hear them spin Feeder’s ‘Buck Rogers’. The track reached number five on the UK chart back in January 2001 but remains a radio standard even in its 21st year. Grant Nicholas originally wrote the song to impress Norton in the hope he would be persuaded to work with Feeder. Despite the Sci-Fi character title (adopted purely because Nicholas fancied the tune sounded futuristic) the track is a drunken break-up song, knocked out quickly after a drinking session down the pub (Grant was drowning his sorrows after splitting up with his girlfriend). Buck Rogers contains a big guitar riff and stream-of-consciousness lyrics about being jealous of his rival’s brand new Jaguar (with a CD player) and whatever else came into his drunken head. Including drinking cider from a lemon.

The rest is as they say, history: but a very important part of Feeder’s history – and with a plot twist. Through the medium of song, one man’s momentary misery and frustration has led to millions of joyous moments. And while cars no longer come installed with CD players, people will always want to drink themselves silly and sing along to Buck Rogers (the song may well surpass 50 million streams soon). Not only that, but Grant came up trumps not just by way of a hit single, but by winning over Gil Norton to become the band’s next producer – for what was to be their best-selling album Comfort In Sound. Oh, and the lost girlfriend? – that would be Kana – his wife and mother of his two kids. Sometimes the ability to write a good song can take you a long way. 

The song that just comes to you

We all know the story of how Sir Paul McCartney wrote yesterday. He dreamt it, waking up with it almost fully formed, so the story goes. 

One of my favourite conversations so far is with one of the UK’s most underrated songwriters, Nerina Pallot. Before we spoke, I had done my prep, listening to Nerina’s entire back catalogue at least once. However, I got stuck on one song in particular: ‘The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter’, from Nerina’s 2017 album Stay Lucky. I had assumed the song was a cover version, such is its classic quality (that’s not meant to offend Nerina, whose catalogue I was not too familiar with until then). I’d assumed the song must be an original from the likes of Christy McVie, or Billy Joel, or Carole King. But it was an original of Nerina’s. I asked her about how she came to write such a classic:

“That’s my favourite song I’ve ever written. It fell out of me in an hour, or an afternoon. It’s everything I wanted it to be. We cut it live in four minutes, I felt if I was to fuck with it too much I would kill it. It’s one of those rare moments where it all came together.”

Every songwriter hopes for the song to ‘be sent from above’, the divine intervention that comes in a dream or Eureka moment. Nothing will invite it more than practice though is my guess. The 90% perspiration might just be what lets in the inspiration. 

The song someone else gifts you

Another of my favourite episodes was a conversation with Fin Greenhall, otherwise known as Fink. While Fink is not one to bend to the whims or will of the record industry (“I’ve never tried to write a hit”), there is something savvy in the way the band has navigated a path through. In 2014 the band created its own label ‘imprint’ RECOUP’D Records, with long-term partner Ninja Tune (the iconic electronic label felt like the band’s new material wasn’t quite in its wheelhouse). On that year’s ‘Hard Believer’ album, along came the song ‘Looking Too Closely’. The song is an exercise in economy, grabbing you with the acoustic strum intro and the genius opening couplet “This is a song about somebody else, so don’t worry yourself, worry yourself”. It doesn’t rely on a big chorus or any kind of hook, yet Fin just knew it was a more commercial song, so much so that his first instinct was to throw it out: 

“I wanted to cut it from the album, but my manager said they would walk away if I did.”

Now that is good management! The song was initially given away as a free download, but 100 million streams later this deeply alternative trio has a genuine streaming hit – something that gave the band the freedom to do whatever they wanted from that point on. 

When I asked Fink how he wrote it though, his answer was even more surprising. “It was something my wife said to me, so she wrote it in a way”. 

Between his wife and his manager, Fin was given his own song as a gift, twice over. 

The song that brings you a new lease of life

There are plenty of examples of late-bloomer hits, but that’s not quite what I mean. For the season finale of Season 5, we’ve gone full circle with the show by talking to Brett Anderson, the lead singer and songwriter of iconic British band Suede. It was a quote from Brett about the lifecycle of a commercially successful band that inspired the concept behind the podcast. 

On listening to Suede’s new record (Autofiction) I was struck in particular by two songs, ‘Personality Disorder’ and ‘Shadow Self’. On these songs, Brett goes for a spoken word verse, influenced by the recent trend set by young British bands such as Dry Cleaning, Yard Act and Working Mens Club. Brett wanted to give it a go, never having tried the vocal technique before, and the results are superb. He’s brilliant at it for one thing, but for another – both songs have a liberated, post-punk vitality that takes Suede back to their very best. The band spent four year writing the songs for Autofiction, and for such a fresh sounding record that’s a deceptive but simple fact. But it is nice to hear examples of classic bands being influenced by today’s up & coming artists. Also, there is something about post-pandemic albums, they appear to be better than before.

The song that comes from a bad place (otherwise known as the pandemic inspired song)

Speaking of great post-pandemic records and in a similar vein to Suede’s Autofiction, the Texan band Spoon (just about my favourite band as it happens) went back to basics for their album Lucifer On The Sofa, recording the songs as a full band, sometimes after just a few takes. The title track is particularly inspired. When I asked Brett about its origins he told me:

“It was a song that we were jamming, from a long time ago. We turned on a drum machine and looped it. That’s the chord progression, and then in 2020 during the pandemic, I sat down to do something with it. Lucifer on the sofa is me when I’m at my worst, when I’m depressed and anxious. It’s the character that makes me lose my motivation, when I’m bitter and nasty. Sometimes it takes me a long time to write lyrics but they came to me really fast and I loved that character of Lucifer On The Sofa.”

Songs as catharsis often make the best songs for both the writer and the listener, and this is a great example. It’s also one of the best album closers you will ever hear by the way!

The song to be grateful for, always

A moment does not make a career, but for many of the artists I’ve met their initial stratospheric rise to the top was largely attributable to a single song – usually a hit song. It’s fair to say that those songs have become symbolic in their longer careers, often evolving into a complex ‘relationship’ between the songwriter and their successful ‘child’. 

Some examples are James’ ‘Sit Down’ or Elbow’s ‘One Day Like This’. For The Divine Comedy that song is ‘The National Express’ and for KT Tunstall, ‘Suddenly I See’. For The Waterboys it is ‘The Whole Of The Moon’ and for Turin Brakes, ‘Painkiller’. The list goes on and on. 

One thing I’ve always been curious to know is how these artists feel when they hear these songs played on the radio, especially when they might have recently released new material (and many of these artists have written a batch of other excellent songs of course). Or when they are heckled at every single live show by someone in the audience to play it? The answer though, overwhelmingly, is that they are grateful to those songs. They might have to play new interpretations (when he plays live, Joe Jackson never plays his chart hits as they were recorded) or rest the song for periods (James steadfastly would not play Sit Down live for over a decade). 

But those songs helped to make their careers and as such, need to be loved and cared for long after they have ‘left the family home’ to continue the analogy. Besides, when it comes to longevity in music, fan favourites cannot be dismissed. 

Not every songwriter can be a hit machine like Nile Rodgers (“hits are my natural comfort zone”), but songs can come from many different places and can take on a life of their own. After all, look at the economic value now being created from just a relatively small batch of the world’s best pop songs. Songs inspiring covers, new interpretations (and interpolations!) keep driving the industry on and that will never stop. The songwriter does not get their fair dues from much of this, I know. But then again, without good songs there would be no industry, no artists and no entertainment with such phenomenal, global power to evoke human emotion. Would we get any of this with AI? No.

So songwriters, keep writing!

The art of being dropped. Artists, it could be good news

In February 2002, Danny McNamara, his brother Richard and three friends Steve Firth, Mickey Dale and Mike Heaton stepped out on stage to play a sold out show at London's prestigious Royal Albert Hall. This was a new peak for their band Embrace. The band opened that show with the track ‘Over’, probably because they thought it was. The band had just been unceremoniously dropped by their record label. On Richard’s birthday too. After a phenomenally successful debut album and two further critically acclaimed LPs, Danny McNamara wondered “will we ever be here again”. 

In the longer term, things turned out for the better. Embrace had joined the club of rock & pop artists who have been dropped by their labels only to go on and then make among their best - and commercially most successful - records. It is somewhat ironic when you consider that first and foremost, the record label’s function is to commercialise the music. Something happens to bands of longevity when they are judged in that way. They’re having none of it, basically.

Embrace’s 4th album, 2004’s Out Of Nothing, released on a new label, was a reset that took the band back to number one. It also contained the band’s only two top 10 singles, back in the days when singles were still sold in numbers on CD. It makes you wonder that, without the forced adversity, would the band have pulled a rabbit out of the hat in the way they did?

Bands dropped by their labels often go on to make amazing records, commercially and creatively. This has been the case with a large club of artists, here are a few examples, all discussed during my conversations with those artists on The Art Of Longevity podcast:

  • Laura Veirs, dropped after her 3rd album with Nonesuch records, Saltbreakers, went on to make July Flame, her most successful commercial album

  • The Wombats, dropped after their 3rd album with 14th Floor Records, Glitterbug, went on to make Beautiful People Will Ruin Your Life, a number 3 chart album and huge record on streaming

  • Spoon, dropped after their first album release for a major label, A Series of Sneaks in 1998, the band’s next record Girls Can Tell set them on a course for a glorious discography of 10 indie-rock albums, including three in the Billboard USA top 10

  • Alela Diane, dropped by Rough Trade after her Wild Divine album in 2011, the USA singer-songwriter went on to forge a successful career releasing albums through independent distributors, leading to her most successful album Cusp and new album Looking Glass

In each case, I’m sure there was a story behind the decisions made. A typical situation is that a band’s advocate within the label (usually the same person who signed them) has moved on elsewhere. Sometimes, as in the example with Embrace, the label went bust. Such events are outside of the artist’s control. Mostly of course, the reason will be ‘disappointing sales’ and therein lies the irony in many cases, when the band goes on to have longevous commercial success. 

 It doesn’t have to be that way

While being dropped might be bewildering and depressing for an artist (and perhaps in some cases their labels too) it is important to see it as a new beginning rather than the end. On the other hand, although counterintuitive at first, it follows that labels might think twice about dropping artists and perhaps rarely should. Only in extreme cases where all other remedies are exhausted should a hard-won, hard-worked relationship be forced to an abrupt end. Sticking with an artist that you believed in at the beginning is likely to bear fruit again at some stage - in the above cases the very next record. Most artists experience creative and commercial highs and lows as a natural ebb & flow of their long-term viability. That requires a long-term vision, which is not outside the scope of a music label even in these fast-paced times we’re living in. 

The careers of many other artists demonstrate exactly that, including the following for example:

  • Norah Jones, who has released nine studio albums over two decades with Blue Note Records

  • Death Cab For Cutie, in many ways a classic ‘indie’ band, has spent 18 years and six albums on Atlantic Records

  • Arctic Monkeys, probably the most successful rock English rock band of their time, have been with Domino Records since the beginning - seven studio albums across 16 years

  • Bjork has been with indie label One Little Indian for what will soon be 11 albums over three decades

  • Fink has been associated with Ninja Tune since the band’s first record in 2006

In the case of Fink, when it became clear that the band’s music was somewhat of an outlier compared with that label’s core repertoire, instead of ending the relationship, the two entered into a long-term partnership under the artist’s own imprint, the fabulously named Recoup’d Records. It allowed Fink’s career stability and eventually long-term success. A win-win for the band and Ninja Tune. 

I don’t mean to label bash here by any means, that would be too easy and too simplistic. Take the case of Warner Music Group - a few of the labels within Warner are named above, yet the 18-year relationship between Atlantic Records and Death Cab is exemplary. The record industry is a wreckage site of indie bands that signed to major labels and could not make it work, yet the band is thriving on that label. Atlantic remains one of the few labels that still holds some intrinsic brand value as a company with artistic sympathy, harking back to the golden era of the 70s under Ahmet Ertegun. And it was Warner Music and another American iconic indie band Wilco that illustrated the idiosyncratic machinations of the music business so well in the early 2000s. The band was both dropped (Elektra/Reprise) and then effectively signed again (Nonesuch) by the same label (Warner). Although it has a bizarre angle to it, perhaps this should happen more often - the parent company making more effort to accommodate important artists but in the right home. Better than letting the band go, surely. 

 These examples are all testimony to the fact that labels can be partners and representatives throughout the whole process - not just as long as the hits keep coming. With the age of the ‘superstar’ in decline and the even greater unpredictability of hits, it is even more important that record labels find a way to build long-term partnerships with their artists. The markers of ‘success’ in the industry are changing and with it, artists' goals & dreams, which no longer fixate on fame & fortune. They would rather have stable, creative careers that enable them to make a good living. That might be the better focus for their labels and managers from now on. 


You can listen to in-depth interviews with many of the artists mentioned in this post on The Art of Longevity. Interviews with Embrace and Death Cab For Cutie are published next…

The Longevity of Laura Veirs

In these short summary articles, I make a quick assessment of the careers of those artists that have joined me on The Art of Longevity podcast. Who knows, each of these short articles might add up to the chapters of a book on lasting careers in music. For the time being celebrating each artist’s body of work and their individual brand of success is enough for a blog!

Levitating Laura Veirs, by Mick Clarke

As she releases album number 12 Found Light, it is worth celebrating Laura Veirs’ continued contribution to the music scene across two decades of making her unique brand of indie folk pop. The secret to her success is not being attached to outcomes and focusing on the craft of making very good albums as cohesive works. She is not as self-critical as many of her peers and would rather get stuff made than worry about perfection or how it will be received. Ironically then, her music is critically revered and I’m sure Found Light will again receive 4 or 5 star reviews. 

Early albums and songs

Laura’s proper commercial debut was in 2003 with Troubled by the Fire, which got her noticed enough to be signed to Nonesuch - a major label in the Warner Music Group family. Then came Carbon Glacier, which brought Veirs to the edge of stardom. However, rather than carry on in the same vein, she diversified her sound to make two albums with rock/pop stylings mixed in with the folk she was known for: Year of Meteors (2005), and Saltbreakers, in 2007. All these records were critically revered but commercially speaking didn’t make enough numbers for her label and she was dropped. But here’s the thing...Laura Veirs made her masterpiece right after that. July Flame was again given widespread praise by critics and fans but it also sold better than anything she’d released up to that point. All the way through her first decade (and since), Laura has never had a hit song, with just a couple of albums making the lower reaches of the chart. It hasn’t really mattered. 

Crossing the rubicon to longevity

Once Laura had established a way to release her albums independently and keep on going (on her label Raven Marching Band, distributed through the highly respected Bella Union independent label) she was destined for longevity. Having built enough of a fan base in her native USA and in Europe, her run of albums continues to be very strong and arguably, each album is in many ways better than the last. The Lookout (2018) and My Echo (2020) are cases in point. 

Key collaborators

Tucker Martine was producer on many of her albums including Carbon Glacier, Year of Meteors, Saltbreakers, July Flame, Tumble Bee and Warp & Weft (he was also Laura’s spouse until their divorce in 2020). She worked on the album Carrie & Lowell by Sufjan Stevens, and has collaborated with Jim James. Veirs also took the lead on the 2016 album case/lang/veirs, a superb collaboration with k.d. lang and Neko Case.

Overcoming obstacles

When Veirs was dropped after her fifth album, she was “bummed” (her word) and disorientated. But she went on to make her best record. More recently in 2020 she went through a divorce, meaning she separated not just from her husband and co-parent but her principal musical collaborator, Tucker Martine. She has set out to be more independently in control of the way her music sounds from hereon in. The new album Found Light is a deep expression of overcoming break-up and moving on and may be yet another high watermark for Veirs. 

Defining success

How does Laura measure her own success? She doesn’t stop to think about it. As one project gets done, she’s onto the next. In her own words “I’m not attached to the outcome”. A prolific songwriter and increasingly accomplished musician, Laura is constantly moving forward with all the restless energy of a fast flowing river. Despite being a relatively small streaming artist (230k followers on Spotify) and never troubling the charts, she is often featured in mainstream music press (she even made a recent appearance on the BBC’s lauded arts magazine show Front Row).

Beyond the music

Like many artists of longevity, Laura is a true artist who has expressed her art through poetry, a children’s picture book (Libba: The Magnificent Musical Life of Elizabeth Cotten) children’s music (Tumble Bee), art and also teaching both music and arts & crafts. 

New album Found Light was produced by Veirs with Shahzad Ismaily. Revisit Laura discussing her career, the ups and downs of making commercial music and defining her own success on The Art of Longevity Season 1, Episode 3

Seven more secrets to a longevous career in the music business

The late Stephen Sondheim once said that writing a hit musical was a wonderful thing, but provided no insight as to how to write another one. The same might apply to a hit song. Songcraft remains at the heart of success for music artists in every way - critical, commercial, self-actual - the song is the ultimate unit of currency. The Art of Longevity podcast is now four short seasons in (27 episodes) and I’m still discovering more ‘secrets to success’ in the music industry long game, so much of which revolves around songs. It was fascinating (and disconcerting) to hear about how Roland Orzabal and Curt Smith of Tears For Fears were locked in a songwriting camp with an elite group of those hitmaker writers and producers in (fruitless) search of a hit single. The process went on for over a year, only for the band to abandon the project altogether. Instead, they started from scratch as a duo - the way they wrote songs 40 years ago for The Hurting (and what songs they were). As the music industry heads further towards new levels of industrialisation and commodification, it is heartening to know that some things can never really change. Despite the best efforts of AI and computers, and large teams of songwriters, the very best songs are created by just one or two hearts and minds. 

For creative and commercial longevity, there are quite a few revelations emerging from these conversations. There is a rubicon to be crossed - that point where an artist has amassed a core following of fans that are always there for them. They will always listen to new records, and might even buy them. They will come along to live shows, maybe more than once. They will always revisit your catalogue, sometimes each and every week, month and year. 

To get to that place - to be longevous in the music industry - to make money and hold on to a modicum of fame and reverence, you will need to keep on making good songs. It is that simple. Not easy, but simple. It’s the songs that get you there. I’m not a songwriter but I don’t mind passing on some advice from other songwriters. Here are the next seven secrets:

Keep in mind that your best work is ahead of you

In The Wombats’ early days learning their craft at LIPA (Liverpool Institute for the Performing Arts) the band got to interview Sir Paul McCartney. The great man and coolest musician to walk the earth told them that their best work was always ahead of them. Taking this advice to heart the band continues to get better and better with each album they make. It’s possible they are working their way patiently to a masterpiece? If the band keeps on thinking that way, it’s more likely they will achieve it. 

Invent a sub-genre

In the early 80s, Mike Scott and The Waterboys recorded songs in a way no one had heard before - sweeping, epic, huge tunes that combined Phil Spector’s ‘wall of sound’ with an organic, acoustic core. It was unique enough to earn its own name (after one of the band’s songs), ‘The Big Music’. Just a few years later, in 1986, Bruce Hornsby and The Range scored a global hit with the song ‘The Way It Is’. Again, its sound and style was unique enough to earn the name ‘The Virginia Sound’. At the height of the ‘second latin music explosion’ in the late 90s came Calexico. In 1998 the band’s second album The Black Light, a concept album of sorts inspired by the desert of Arizona and northern Mexico, received excellent reviews and put the band firmly on the map. With their eclectic mix of Tex Mex, mariachi and indie-americana, Calexico brought something different and new. The music journalist Fred Mills captured their sound perfectly with two words - ‘desert noir’. All three musicians continue to make new music, thriving and still restlessly creating across many styles and genres. They earned the right to do so however, because they created a genre. 

Respect the great musicians of the past but do not try to compete with them

This revelation struck Roland Orzabal of Tears For Fears as the band struggled to create a masterpiece following the phenomenal success of their second album Songs From The Big Chair. Back then, thrust into the pop limelight, Orzabal felt the reverence of his 60s and 70s heroes bearing heavily on his shoulders: “we were competing with the whole history of rock & roll”. Tears For Fears famously made one of the longest, most tortuous and expensive albums in history in The Seeds Of Love. What followed was the 1989 album Sowing The Seeds of Love, an album so “opulent, expensive, puffed-up, bombastic” (Roland’s words) they just couldn’t follow it up. Tears For Fears imploded under the pressure (even though those first three albums had cemented their place in pop history). Between long gaps, the band have come together to make records with the belief that even after making three of the best in pop history, they can still create work that they consider to be as good as their best. Tears For Fears are their own judges. 

Before you make your first album, make sure you have written two albums

Reflecting on the early days of The Beta Band (think back to the 90s when they were in danger of becoming huge), Steve Mason’s one true regret was not to spend more time crafting songs for the band’s sophomore record. The ‘difficult second album’ remains a pivotal moment for most artists - the first key bridge to long-term success. 

There’s nothing worse than time pressure to produce music and many sophomore albums have suffered from either being rushed, or sinking under the weight of expectation following a successful debut. You may be better off following Stuart Murdoch’s lead. The Belle and Sebastian singer and principal songwriter already had another album written after the band’s precocious debut Tigermilk was released in 1996. That second album was If You’re Feeling Sinister - which many believe to still be their best. If you keep writing songs there’s always a place to store them for later. 

Make your songs a bit weird

While a song may never be truly finished, a definitive version is what artists are looking to put down on record, a process that takes inspiration, hard work and collaboration. This has proved UK indie pop band The Wombats very well. At the core of The Wombats’ enduring success are those songs - catchy, bouncy, poppy earworms - some of which have topped 100 million streams. Crucially however, “pulling the rug” from under those songs is also part of The Wombats songcraft. Clever use of bridges, middle eights or sudden shifts in tone can make the difference between a predictable pop song by numbers and something a little bit weirder. And despite the ‘song-by-numbers’ culture in the streaming era, it’s well known that audiences are real people, and that real people like stuff that’s weird. 

Create a culture and commerce is bound to follow

Some of the most successful artists created culture first and commerce second. Portico Quartet, Belle and Sebastian, Teenage Fanclub all did this. For Portico Quartet, it was busking on London’s Southbank, where the band created their own loyal fanbase. With Belle & Sebastian, Stuart Murdoch’s singular vision of the band he wanted to create – and the audience he wanted to attract – was so clear and strong – in the end it was record labels that succumbed, not the other way around. Teenage Fanclub, meanwhile, got into the habit of making records first, then shopping them to labels. All three demonstrate how ‘DIY’ culture has always thrived in music. And DIY is of course more possible now than ever.

If you get dropped, turn things around and make your best record

This was the case with Laura Veirs (July Flame), The Coral (Butterfly House), The Wombats (Beautiful People Will Ruin Your Life), Nerina Pallot (Fires), Spoon and countless others. While being dropped might be bewildering and depressing for an artist (and labels too), it is a new beginning rather than the end. It follows that labels might think twice about dropping artists and perhaps rarely should. Sometimes, sticking with an artist that you believed in at the beginning will bear fruit again at some stage. Most artists experience creative and commercial highs and lows, yet the careers of Fink and Norah Jones are testimony to the fact that labels can be partners and representatives throughout the whole process – not just as long as the hits keep coming. 

The Art of Longevity (all seasons) is here. Season 5 launches soon…

Seven (more) lessons for longevity in today's music business

This year I had the pleasure of working with one of the greatest songwriters in history. Bjorn Ulvaes commissioned MIDiA to produce the report ‘Rebalancing the Song Economy’ at a time when the UK government was making a formal inquiry into the economics of music streaming. Bjorn was amazingly articulate (of course he was, check out his ABBA lyrics) on the challenges for songwriters today, but one thing he said really haunted me. During the press interviews (and in his Ted Talk) Bjorn told the world “I don’t think ABBA would have made it today”. Imagine if ABBA hadn’t ever broken out of Sweden? 

Meanwhile, as part of the UK inquiry, another great lyricist, Elbow singer Guy Garvey, eloquently told MPs "If musicians can't afford to pay the rent... we haven't got tomorrow's music in place." 

This concern about the artists of today not replenishing those of the past is one of the reasons I have become fascinated with longevity in today’s music business. Longevity has to be the primary goal for any serious artist, yet achieving it in today’s music business means working miracles. The volume of music and the number of artists creating and releasing it makes today’s ‘market’ ultra competitive. 

The Art of Longevity podcast is now two seasons in and I’m becoming even more fascinated by how music artists can continue to succeed despite the music industry constantly shifting around them. 

What I’ve discovered this time around is that there is no ‘mainstream’ music industry to aspire to at all (something that has changed since Elbow first gained real success with their fourth album ‘The Seldom Seen Kid’ in 2008). Chart success for example, does not equate to being in the mainstream. These days most establishes bands can focus their efforts and get a number one or two album but a week later, the world has moved on. Most artists understand this. Success is a relative term best defined by you - the artist - on your terms and no one else's. 

My guests in season 2 were: KT Tunstall, Ed Robertson (of Canadian legends Barenaked Ladies), Fin Greenhall (Fink), Los Lobos, Mew and Portico Quartet. Between them they have amassed 150 years of commercial and creative viability and they are all still going strong - perhaps stronger than ever. The seven lessons learned from my conversations with them are:

1. Have the confidence to disrupt yourself before the industry disrupts you

The mainstream no longer exists but in the 80s it sure did and in 1987 LA rock band Los Lobos discovered it by accident. Their cover of Richie Valens’ ‘La Bamba’ (the theme song to a surprise hit movie by a first-time director with a largely unknown cast) became a smash number one hit in a dozen countries. How do you follow that? With an album of traditional Mexican music of course! Thing is, Los Lobos knew how much of a fluke La Bamba was for them and that they had little chance of successfully repeating it. So they didn’t try or let anyone convince them it was a good idea. 

When the Danish rock band Mew first had breakthrough international success with their 2003 album ‘Frengers’, they had arrived in a place most bands (especially from non-English speaking markets) dream of: signed to a UK major label and on a European tour with R.E.M. Their next record wasn’t a mainstream follow-up to Frengers however but an ambitious indie-rock opera - a nod to progressive rock that no other band (on a major label) dared make in 2005. The band never entertained any notion of building on the success of Frengers with a more mainstream record. Yet the dramatic and complex follow-up album became a classic and a fan favourite, and ended up presenting the band with its only number one single in their home country, ‘The Zookeeper’s Boy’. 

2. Welcome in those little details that might change your destiny aka trust your studio team

Back in 1992, the Barenaked Ladies song ‘One Week’ finally broke the band in the USA and brought them international fame too. Although Ed Robertson had written the song and taken lead vocals duty (including that famous dexterous rap) Ed thought the idea of the record label, to make One Week the lead single for their new album, to be a joke. Then, the record’s producer (Susan Rogers) suggested the drum loop “wasn’t very cool”. Because of Susan’s input, the band changed the drums, a tweak which transformed the song and in effect, the band’s entire future. You need to be receptive to those little suggestions, accidents and tweaks that might turn out to be pivotal. 

That same year (1992 was a good one it seems) when Los Lobos hauled themselves into a downtown LA studio with six new songs and teamed up with producer/engineer partners Mitchell Froom and Tchad Blake, the band was exhausted from the previous album and gruelling tour. Yet out of these sessions came the album Kiko, the band’s first genuine masterpiece. Steve Berlin of Los Lobos told me it was by tiny details that Froom and Blake were able to elicit a performance from the band that made the difference:

“Tchad (Blake) could even take the mistakes and turn them into something that sounded genius. When we got together and listened to the record in sequence, we were all stunned”.

It was the beginning of a decade of innovation that the team of Mitchell & Blake brought to recording production for Lobos and many other artists. Many of their now highly sought after sounds are available commercially as samples. Those producers and engineers really do make careers. 

3. Earn the right to say ‘no’ and recognise what this means for your career

After Fink made ‘Perfect Darkness’ (album number four) the band had earned the right to say “no”. No to playing small shitty venues. No to rushing out a follow-up record. No to some (of the many) sync offers that came rushing in. It was at that point, after seven years of saying yes to everything, that the band began to realise they had created something of real viability and were in it for the long game. They hadn’t hit ‘the big time’ (that might come later) but they earned the right to make their choices, including ‘no’. 

After the phenomenal success of her debut album ‘Eye to The Telescope’, Scottish singer-songwriter KT Tunstall began to feel the pressure from her label to “make another one of those”. In fact, KT began to get the feeling she was picking up a reputation for being “difficult” because she did not want to just repeat her debut. KT was hardly the first woman in this situation and she won’t be the last but, she stuck to her guns. Firstly, how would that be even possible when her debut was a decade or more in the making? KT had to navigate multiple challenges: make the sophomore record she wanted to make and fight off the insistence that she fit the mould of ‘female singer-songwriter’ that had become popular at the time (ironically down in part to KT’s success). In the end, her second album was a somewhat compromised product, with good songs but too much pop polish. 

Be ready to turn down what doesn’t feel right for you, even if those around you think it is. 

4. Be your own cottage industry

A common pattern with artists that have achieved longevity is that they tend to get started under their own steam. One of the best things about how the music industry has been transformed by technology, is that you can simply upload your songs onto the platforms and get working your socials, hard. However, is this really just the modern equivalent of the field of dreams approach? Build it and they will come...

In reality it’s much harder of course. Many of the artists I’ve spoken with on The Art of Longevity gained early success without relying on any institutions at all - neither media or technology. Instead they have literally taken matters into their own hands. So often this is because those artists believe they are destined to make a career in music - maybe because they don’t feel they could do anything else. 

Portico Quartet spent their early years busking along London’s SouthBank. I bought a copy of the band's very first, self-pressed four-track CD for £5, one of 10,000 sold. Recently the band’s saxophone player Jack Wylie told me:

"We'd go off to buy big stacks of blank CDs at Maplins and we bought this burner machine that could do eight at a time. I think we managed to do 200-250 a day. As a student, it meant we could make a living without working in a bar”. 

When I ask artists what advice they might pass on to those artists starting out now, most are pretty vexed (what do you say?). So much of success in music is still down to luck. But the point is, you need to make your own luck. With those SouthBank busking sessions, home CD burner factory and the Hang drum, Portico Quartet created enough word of mouth to amass an early dedicated following thousands strong. What followed was a Mercury Prize nomination and so far, an 8 album career. 

5. Take your time

British  indie wonders Alt-J took 2019 off from music altogether. Their prodigious drummer Thom Sonny Green was recently asked by The Observer if he worried they would be forgotten about. He admitted that he “thought about it  every day”. In this day & age FOMO drives everything. The creator equivalent is ‘FOBF’: fear of being forgotten. 

But FOBF doesn’t bother Adele. And it doesn’t bother Jonas Bjerre of Mew. Over 25 years Mew has made seven studio albums which is one every four years. That’s not something Spotify would advocate as an operating model for bands these days, is it? But the truth is - there is no point racing your way to the front of an endless rush of music. The pandemic showed the true colours of many artists. Some quietly went away and took time out to work on their craft or take a break, while others couldn’t drag themselves away from social media and online duets. You cannot make memorable songs by fidgeting and frittering away ‘content’. Well you can, but the more confident way through is to quietly focus on your art. The fans will welcome you back long after the ‘followers’ have forgotten you existed. 

6. Have other pursuits of meaning outside of your main music vehicle

In life there are four elements: work, family, relationships and you - and a balance has to be achieved. Artists struggle with this balance. Between the intensity of writing and recording and the hard graft of touring, the obsessive element to being a musician makes work-life balance impossible. When bands achieve ‘fame’ (the ‘stratospheric rise to the top’ phase of Brett Andersen’s longevity curve) balance goes out the window altogether. Everything is work hard, play hard and burn out. Some band’s take to it and others don’t but for a while, everything looks amazing - records in the charts, video shoots, press interviews, international travel and a different hotel every night. The rock & roll lifestyle still exists, but expect it to last and you will be heading straight for the crash. 

As Ed Robertson told me: “The best part of the roller-coaster is the ride back down”. Jonas Bjerre of Mew makes videos, film scores and many other types of visual art. KT Tunstall took time out to make film scores (attending Stephen Spielberg’s school to learn the art) and musicals. In this day and age, you need more than just your album-touring cycle to engage your fan base anyhow, so you can invite them in on your other creative projects too. What matters is that you make the time to regenerate, make the art you need to make and that you keep in touch with your fans. Everything comes back around. 

7. Get even better live (and stream it)

Yes, it comes back to live once again. Without exception all of the artists so far I’ve spoken with for The Art of Longevity have honed the craft of performance. But the emergence of live streaming has meant a new way to connect with your audience and practice the art of performing music that way, without having to submit fully to a life on the road. Live streaming presents a new way to be creative and to connect with your most loyal fans. It’s a different experience to the visceral contact of a real life show, but the format is here to stay so invent another aspect to your ‘brand’. 

So here are my next seven secrets. The Season 1&2 archive for the Art of Longevity is on the podcast page