Musicians: It's Time You Started Money Seriously

In the labyrinthine corridors of the music industry, we find ourselves at a crossroads of unprecedented complexity. Should we fail to chart a new course, the specter of musical greatness embodied by luminaries like Ed Sheeran or Taylor Swift may fade into oblivion, leaving the industry to languish in obscurity akin to the dinosaurs of antiquity.

For musicians, money is akin to kryptonite, capable of sapping our creative energies and clouding our artistic vision.

At the mere mention of money, a chorus of protestations ensues, punctuated by the familiar refrain:

"I don’t care about money; it’s about the art."

This sentiment echoed throughout my tenure at the Conservatorium of Music, where the pursuit of musical excellence often overshadowed the pragmatic realities of financial literacy.

Conversations with fellow musicians invariably revolved around the virtuosity of B.B. King or the transcendental allure of Tommy Emmanuel's guitar wizardry. Yet, discussions on the intricacies of the music business and the elusive pursuit of financial stability remained conspicuously absent.

Within the hallowed halls of the Sydney Conservatorium of Music, where every facet of musical prowess is meticulously cultivated, a mere handful of classes are dedicated to navigating the treacherous waters of the music industry.

This disjuncture between artistic fervor and fiscal pragmatism weighs heavily on my conscience. With financial distress cited as a primary catalyst for the pervasive mental health crisis afflicting musicians, the imperative for comprehensive financial education becomes irrefutable.

Money need not reign supreme in our consciousness. In an age characterized by the pervasive influence of social media luminaries and digital influencers, the allure of financial obsession looms large, threatening to eclipse our intrinsic humanity. Yet, like an unrequited love, we must confront the inevitability of money as an essential component of life, vital for our sustenance and prosperity.

A metamorphosis in my relationship with money revealed its latent potential as a conduit for both artistic expression and existential security. By embracing a judicious and strategic approach to financial management, I unearthed a means to alleviate the twin burdens of uncertainty:

• The gnawing apprehension of uncertain sustenance.
• The specter of imminent homelessness.

While the romantic ideal of pure creativity remains alluring, the harsh realities of the 21st century demand a more pragmatic outlook, even for musicians.

Consider a hypothetical CEO dismissing the realm of finance with a cavalier proclamation: “I don’t care about money,” relying solely on creative ingenuity to steer a multinational corporation. Such idealism, while noble in theory, is untenable in practice, as the inevitable descent into financial ruin looms large.

The archetype of the "struggling musician" embodies a stark dichotomy: the lofty aspirations of artistic transcendence juxtaposed with the grim reality of subsistence.

The Moment where I Said "Enough is Enough".

My journey teetered on the precipice of this existential chasm, epitomized by a series of performances at a local pub in Western Sydney. Two consecutive gigs, devoid of audience and ambience, served as a poignant reminder of the capricious nature of the music industry.

Picture the scene: a lone troubadour, serenading empty chairs and vacant tables, his melodies lost amidst the deafening silence of indifference. It was a surreal tableau, punctuated by a comedic twist of fate as the pub's management, unaware of my scheduled performance, greeted me with bemused astonishment.

Faced with the indignity of performing for a paltry sum amidst abject apathy, I resolved never to consign myself to such ignominy again. Thus began a transformative journey, wherein I sought to recalibrate my relationship with money.

One pervasive fallacy among musicians is the notion that financial success necessitates a Faustian bargain, wherein artistic integrity is sacrificed at the altar of material gain.

While I once espoused this belief, a profound shift in perspective revealed the fallacy of such binary thinking. Commerce need not dilute the essence of music; rather, it can catalyse creative liberation.

With a renewed mindset, money ceased to be a shackle, transforming into a conduit for artistic expression and existential security. For musicians, financial freedom begets the latitude to pursue their craft unabated, unencumbered by the pall of economic precarity.

If music is the lifeblood of our existence, then financial literacy is the crucible through which it flows unimpeded.

It's time to dispel the taboo surrounding money and embrace it as a tool for both artistic expression and existential security.