September 2022: I want to, see through u

I can’t tell, yet, if this is more than a trend. But I’ve noticed something recently. On social media, folks in my friendship circle have shared three unrelated posts, all of which point towards the same idea.

In July, Berlin queer rave collective fluid.vision shared a gallery post titled ‘Money Transparancy’. The slides that followed telegraphed a “recommended” entry price for their next event to allow them to cover expenses while paying artists fairly and equally, and also made clear that the party would be entirely self-funded. There was an additional affordable provision, because, they cutely state: “If money is a concern, and you find yourself rounding corners at the end of the month, just pay 10€, no need to explain.”

A few days later, New York based DJ Lychee posted a financial breakdown of Antidote, an “intimate, semi-private, queer-focused early evening event in a cozy space,” that they hosted in Brooklyn. Prefaced with the caveats that the intention of the party wasn’t to reap profits, and that DJ Lychee has a buffer of privilege due to personal savings and a day gig in the tech industry, the stats provided in the post were stark: Antidote’s expenses outstripped the total income of the event’s ticket sales, sliding-scale door entry and donations by almost $2000.

A third post made the rounds days after that, by British DJ, junglist and vocalist Sheba Q (who, side note, is no slouch on the production side either: check the narrative jazzy impressionism of “Short Story”). Her post included memes and screenshots, all related to the most damning image: an email from Hospitality, the events offshoot of the already-problematic UK drum & bass mega brand, Hospital Records, with a lowball booking request. It proposed a 2-hour slot at a Hospitality night in Milton Keynes, a city around 100km away from London, where Sheba Q lives. The distance is important in light of the fee: £125, all inclusive. The email states Hospitality’s conditions plainly: ”Accommodation provided?: No. Travel Provided?: No. Hospitality provided? Yes.” What nightmare version of hospitality underpays a Black female artist, expects her to cover her own travel and/or accommodation costs away from home, and then leaves her to her own devices at midnight, when her set finishes, to figure out how to safely get to where she needs to go?

These folks deserve applause for their financial transparency and vulnerability. But it’s no coincidence that in all three instances these are individuals who, structurally, have the most to lose and least to gain. It’s particularly galling at a moment when profitable businesses in the scene are the most demonstrably greedy for the cultural capital of aligning with queer, PoC, and socially conscious artists and collectives.

In an article titled ‘Neoliberalism in the Music Industries’, researcher Julien Palliere offers a sober assessment of music ecosystems that buries the fantasy of a meritocracy. “That musical commodities can be valued,” he writes, “does not guarantee their remuneration.” That’s true, but it’s worth considering the potential impacts of widespread financial transparency, as a baseline standard. What might shift, aesthetically and culturally, with a clearer understanding of where wealth is being hoarded, hidden or obscured? While we slowly begin to acknowledge that there are too few conversations about the intersection of club culture with class and capital, perhaps the conversation should begin right here.

References:

Palliere, Julien (2021) "Neoliberalism in the Music Industries" in Rock n’ Heavy. Medium.

DOWNLOAD FLYER German translation by Thilo Schneider / Artwork by dushi_fine_lines