by Mel Croucher

I was a young man living in Stockholm. It was the summer of 1969 and I was flat broke. I had the clothes I stood up in, a diploma in architecture and a kazoo. I was too shy to be a busker, so I invented pay-on-demand live-streamed entertainment. I became a human jukebox. I got me an abandoned cardboard box just about big enough to hide inside, and I cut a horizontal slot near the top for my media input/output. Below the slot I punched eight holes to act as the graphic user interface. The reason there were eight holes was because I only knew eight songs, and I scrawled the song title alongside each hole. The idea was for passers-by to provide me with digital input commands by sticking their finger through the hole of their choice, and I would give them a short rendition of the selected song on my kazoo. As a token of their appreciation they would reward me with loose change dropped through a small vertical slot labelled Thank You in English and Swedish. It was very hot squatting inside that box.

So here we are, more than half a century later, and the music industry should be in crisis. As a result of the pandemic, artists and musicians have seen their venues close down, festivals cancelled, tours abandoned, and wary audiences slink off to go online. The new normal for live performers should be that they are well and truly buggered. But I am delighted to say the very opposite is true. The new normal has revealed that the traditional models for the entertainment industry were a hoax. All those record labels, agents, managers, ticketers and merchandisers were a bunch of parasites. Half a century later, the new generation doesn't even need a kazoo and cardboard box to squat in for a live performance. They've got smartphones. And they don't need to rely on passers-by to busk at. They've got a global audience, thanks to utilities like Soundcloud, Tidal and Jeeni. Even on Facebook we have the facility for interminable live broadcasts of self-indulgent shite from the box-room. And I'm not just talking about singers and musicians. The same applies to actors, dancers, poets, voiceovers and kazoo virtuosos.

There are more independent artists than ever before who have been able to break into the mainstream without any support from a lousy label, a poncy publisher, a suffocating sponsor, mingy manager or arrogant agent. This is an entertainment revolution, where digital distribution, streaming platforms, social media and online marketing tools have changed the way artists perform their work and reach out to fans. By cutting out all the spongers, an independent artist can suddenly enjoy a number of important advantages. To me, the most important is that they now have 100% complete control over the direction of their music, spoken word and creative work. They also have full control over distribution, marketing, artwork, merchandising, deadlines, gigs, ticketing, prices, schedules - in fact all of those affirmative decisions about their creative vision. But it's not just about control. The new normal means that independent artists can keep 100% of all the profits generated from sales, streams, licencing deals, merchandise, and small change dropped through cardboard slots. The reason they can do this is because without the parasites they own all their own stuff. Independent artists own the master rights to their creative work, which means they also have the freedom to negotiate licensing, streaming and publishing deals, and they don’t have to worry about shyster contracts, expensive lawyers, and signing over their rights.

Of course the parasites are not going to give up without a fight. Book agents, publishers, distributors and publicists are still clinging on, years after it became obvious that nobody really needs them now that anyone can self-publish in the digital age. In the music and entertainment industry the leeches will still argue that they are vital, even though they already know they are dead. They will keep trying to treat artists like idiots and tell them they don't have the money for mastering, or production or touring or merchandise. Which is a lie, because if artists don't have to pay the leeches then they will save the money. Artists will also be told that they have a limited network of fans and contacts, whereas organisations and labels have access to big fat fanbases and red hot connections with professionals, promoters, booking agents and media. This is an even bigger lie, demonstrated by the fact that even a no-hoper musician like me has a Facebook network big enough to fill The Royal Albert Hall, including the bogs, with or without social distancing.

The biggest problem I can foresee in this brave new world of independent entertainment is lack of discipline. Put simply, if creatives were once prepared to rely on a bunch of parasites and leeches, they must now learn to rely on themselves, and that involves actually getting down to some hard work and doing stuff, irrespective of whether or not they have oodles of native talent. Desperation and hunger is an excellent motivator, so I invite the independent artists and performers of the new normal to get hold of their own electronic cardboard box and give it a go. And above all, don't forget to have fun while you're about it.

Mel Croucher is the founder of the UK videogames industry, and writer of the most widely-read, longest-running column in computer journalism. He is the founder director of Jeeni and owns a black T-shirt.

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