Nat Smith
Hopping the Fence Podcast Transcript - #13, Nat Smith
[Theme music is repetitive and catchy, with drums and electric keys]
[Theme fades in]
RC: Hello, I’m Rebecca Casalino, and this is Hopping the Fence, a podcast dedicated to talking to artists on the fringes of the Canadian art scene.
This episode was recorded in Tkaronto on the traditional territories of the Haudenosaunee, Huron-Wendat, Anishinaabe, and Mississaugas of the New Credit First Nations.
This episode of Hopping the Fence contains references to violence against women and abuse.
NS: Hi, my name is Nat Smith. Right now, I’m a fourth-year student at OCAD University, but I also work as a strategist at award-winning agency No Fixed Address. And currently, I'm a board member of Toronto-based music non-profit Waveland. So… I'm creative, but I'm also business-minded and strategic. This combination has made me obsessed with not only creating but also just making it work. How can this project be the most successful it can be? To me, solving problems and creating systems is a form of creativity, especially when it's a problem you care about. And something had been really eating at me.
In the summer of 2020, it felt like a lot of opportunity was just dropped on my lap, despite being in a pandemic. I got an internship that eventually led to a job while I was simultaneously working a school research job. And around that time I was asked to join Waveland. And listen, it's not my first time. There have been multiple moments in my life where I would suddenly hit this momentum. And it was these moments that were so powerful because they kept me going. I felt that if I kept working until things just suddenly skyrocketed, that things would turn out alright for me. But what I had forgotten was that these moments always came from someone who believed in me and gave me that opportunity. And since that realization, I've wanted to be the person who could give that opportunity to others, which is why when I joined Waveland I got serious.
Waveland exists as a non-profit to give local artists a chance. They provide opportunities for new and upcoming talent to get up on stage in front of an audience of like, 50 people, pre-COVID of course. But these people get paid every other week when they perform. The thing is is that I want this opportunity, or at least at the time, I wanted this opportunity to become something more. Something that could build off the work that non-profits like Waveland do. And I wasn't even sure at that time what that was yet until I started my final year at OCAD University.
Imagine someone sits you down and they ask you, "What do you really care about?" That was essentially what my profs asked me in my thesis class at the start of the school year. I didn't even have to think twice. I knew what direction I wanted to head in. I started with a question: "Why don't I hear more about hip hop in Toronto?"
Some of you may be surprised by me asking this. Of course we hear about hip hop in Toronto. We’ve had major names in hip-hop come out of Toronto. But in a post-Drake era, where names like Drake and the Weeknd top charts globally, where is our renaissance?
Historically, when we see music that makes it in America, it kind of opens the floodgates to a whole new sound. In the mid-1960s, when the Beatles crossed the ocean, we had the British Invasion. And right now, as BTS stands as the biggest boy band in the world, we're seeing more and more K-Pop groups show up in our charts. Admittedly, it's financially motivated. One group’s success means a chance for many more. Not only that, but even the music industries among South Korea and the UK start to thrive domestically. With all eyes on your country, there's pressure to act, to do more. But why aren't we doing more?
Because, I know we're capable of it. I'm old enough to remember the mid-2000s I consumed more Canadian media than I ever have in my life. The days of watching Much Music on TV and turning on the radio, a time where being immersed in Canadian pop culture was normal. But when I think about it, with the exception of maybe one or two, I can only think of names of white artists. Looking back, Canadian media in general had been pretty white-washed.
You see, Canada has a bit of a branding problem. We like to talk about being diverse, that our country is literally powered by diversity. It's, in a way, a way to differentiate ourselves from our friends South side of the Border. We appreciate everybody from different backgrounds, or so we say. Because when it comes time to communicating the Canadian identity, the one thing that unites us all, it turns out to be parts of our culture, I say “our” culture… but it really is only parts of Canadian culture that are experienced... well, what I would say, is by white people.
For me, I grew up in Markham. And Markham is a place where it's mostly immigrant families or people who came from overseas. And the experience in a place like Markham... we're all Canadian, right? We all came to Canada to be Canadian. But it's so far removed than what the Canadian identity is. And I'm talking about beavers and snowy mountaintops and playing hockey. The kind of things you would see in a Canadian Tire or a Tim Horton's commercial. It's wearing plaid and living in an igloo, that type of thing. It plays on a lot of stereotypes. And I kind of always assumed that there might be a section of people in Canada that truly live that way. But it was never the side of Canada I saw.
And, in my opinion, I think there's a lot of people who have not experienced that Canada. More specifically, people of colour. I mean, in general, people of colour or people from marginalized communities, we gather in urban centres, really. We experience city life. And when you think about it, city life is kind of the antithesis of what the supposed Canadian experience is supposed to be. Not everyone, you know, has a cottage that they can go up to every summer and chill out by the lake. Not everyone plays hockey. Really, this Canadian experience only seems to portray what I would call a whitewashed lifestyle. And as a result, despite Canada being this great diverse place, we aren't hearing diverse stories or experiences about living in Canada.
And I find it so odd because this entire brand, so to speak, lives completely off of stereotypes. We perpetuate our own stereotypes seriously! Like, Tim Horton's commercials and Canadian Tire commercials, they aren't being satirical, they're being serious and they're being sentimental about the Canadian experience. But lately, we've been experiencing these moments of cultural disruption. New ways to redefine what the Canadian experience actually is.
One of my favourite examples of this is the We the North rebranding of the Toronto Raptors. It was done by this agency Sid Lee, which has always been known to be pretty creative actually. But they really tapped into this idea that whatever the Toronto Raptors branding should be, it should reflect Toronto. And to a greater extent, should reflect Canada. After all, the Toronto Raptors are the only Canadian representation in the NBA. So rather than snowy forests and playing hockey, they opted for concrete jungles and playing basketball. I'm not sure if this branding was intended to be ground-shaking. I mean, who doesn't want to achieve that?
But I wonder if Sid Lee knew that what they were doing was actually somewhat changing the kind of Canadian brand. A new kind of brand that really resonated with people who couldn't identify with that Canadiana. A glimpse at urban Canada, the real home to diversity in this country. But, let's step away from this because what does this have to do with music?
Well, what I found was when I looked at record labels, you know, major record labels like Warner, Universal, but at least their positions in Canada. When I looked at their rosters, I couldn't help but notice that majority of artists on them were white and they were bands. Now personally, I don't really mind these bands. I think some are fine. It's really just the surprise of, well one, obviously the lack of diversity, but also, it just felt to me that it was the natural instinct to see that there was a high demand for hip hop. If you look at listener data across different streaming platforms, you'll see that we listen to a lot of hip-hop. We want to hear more.
I mean, obviously, Drake is there and the Weeknd is there, but in general, either being in the US or other countries, we're listening to more rappers. We're also listening to more RnB. The urban umbrella of genres in general. So why not Hip Hop?
If you look at it either way, on the one hand, there's the obviously ethical dilemma of things where you're not showing diversity under your label. But even in the capitalistic sense of things, even if you were just some bigwig that wanted to profit off of things, what platforming what's popular be a natural instinct?
Because in my opinion, especially in an industry like music, you just have to be culturally observant. I mean, obviously music has evolved over time, and so have any sort of music industry stakeholders evolved with it. Why have we not evolved?
Well, what I found was that rap is what I call "racially coded." Now, this term familiar, but if you look it up, nothing will turn up. And that's because I borrowed this term from the term "queer coded," what you may already recognize. "Queer coding" is something that is done in a lot of media, so a lot of TV shows for example, where there are subtextual parts of a character, four aspects of a character that essentially hint at them being queer without them outright telling everybody that they're queer. Now these little subtextual quirks that they have, it's almost always built on stereotypes. You know, either the "gay lisp" or dressing fashionably or super artsy or dying your hair a crazy colour. Now while this isn't necessarily bad, perpetuating stereotypes can obviously bring some issues and they can essentially lead to people to prejudice.
The thing about rap music or hip-hop music, or again, this umbrella of urban genres is that they are predominantly built off of Black culture. Everything from the beat to the lyrics, it really does reflect Black culture and its roots. So what we think about rap, we associate with Black people. And of course, that includes this idea or stereotype that rap is inherently negative or violent. That associating with a rap artist is like associating with a gang member.
[Audio clip of David Bowie Mark Goodman interview cuts in]
David Bowie: I’d like to ask you something, you know, alright.
NS: There's this really interesting story that kind of parallels this idea. And it dates back to 1983. It's David Bowie this doing a sit-down interview with MTV VJ Mark Goodman. And in the middle of the interview, David Bowie compliments MTV and what they’ve done. Remember, they’re relatively new at this point. But then he asks,
David Bowie: I'm just floored by the fact that there's so few Black artists featured on it, why is that?
NS: You see, at this time on MTV, Black artists were only being played after 2:30 in the morning until 6. They weren't being shown on prime-time television or afternoon television when kids would come back home from school and watch MTV. Now, Mark Goodman is just a DJ. He's just a face for television. He doesn't make the executive decisions that MTV. But he felt the need to defend his employers. He told David Bowie that MTV is moving in that direction. But when David Bowie didn’t seem to really buy it, Mark Goodman followed up with a statement that he'll later regret.
Mark Goodman: ...of course also we have to try and do what we think not only New York and Los Angeles will appreciate but also Poughkeepsie or Midwest, pick some town in the Midwest that will be scared to death by Prince, which we're playing, or a string of other Black faces and Black music.
David Bowie: That’s very interesting, isn’t that interesting?
NS: Goodman jokes that these people would be scared to death if they played an artist like Prince or a string of other Black artists on MTV. And even said that teenagers in 1983 weren't interested in artists like the Isley Brothers. David Bowie smirks at this. Perhaps because he's a bit amused by such an ignorant answer broadcast on live television. But then he says something rather important.
David Bowie: Well I'll tell you what it means, maybe what the Isley Brothers or Marvin Gaye means to a Black 17-year-old -
Mark Goodman: Ah.
David Bowie: -and surely he's part of America as well.
Mark Goodman: No Question.
NS: This is the same attitude that we're facing in Canada right now in 2021. Or at least up until now. I've seen a lot of initiatives in the past year, especially following the revival of the Black Lives Matter movement in the summer. I've seen a lot of moves being made to help Black Canadians, and I think that's great. But I think this long-standing diversity issue that we can see in Canadian media has created the space for a very unique problem.
The major stakeholders in our industry – so, let's say the CBC or Bell Media or any of those other sorts of broadcasters and media companies. Same goes for major record labels that show up here in Canada like Universal or Warner. For a long time, they've operated on almost completely white leadership. The kind of leadership that would find it easy to ignore diverse or marginalized voices. These people have essentially gatekept our industry for the longest time. Artists like Drake and The Weeknd didn't even get their start with these companies. They got started in the US. And essentially, it's created this culture that we must do everything ourselves.
When I say this, I mean that in order to see the kind of diversity that we've been looking for, we must build the community programs platforms, labels and media ourselves. And that's what we've been doing for the last two decades. We have constructed a whole other industry so that we can operate outside of these major stakeholders that ignore us, and the government encourages this. They offer grants and loans to get you started. But nobody wants to invest in us. These grants and loans, they don't help us grow. It's kind of just throwing money at the problem.
Speaking of problems, this brings me to the next topic of my research: the grant problem. A lot of our industry, our new industry, operates on a non-profit basis. I wonder if that might seem counterintuitive in today's day and age. How are we expected to maintain and grow when we can barely make a living for ourselves? Not only that, but it's hard to spread the word and create growth that's organic.
Our government is very involved in the media we consume, which is not necessarily a bad thing. Their financial support helps us start projects, but the real problem is what comes next, or rather, what doesn't come next. It's a bit of a cycle.
An artist or organization expresses financial need in order to start a new project. So they apply for a grant. If you are a person that is part of a marginalized community, you may even need to kind of exploit the struggle of your experience at this stage. Really write out the dramatic moments of your life that have led you to this moment of applying for a government grant. When you get your grant, you spend it all on its intention. Usually this is for a project that is intended to help you profit, so that would be live shows, album recording, things like that. But more often than not, the profit you generate from this project is only a fraction of the amount that the grant provided you with. You made barely have enough to get you by. And so, the cycle goes on.
Most independent artists will tell you that their primary way of getting started a profit is performing live shows. And those live shows will either be through a bar, something like that, or one of these non-profit organizations that provide performance opportunities. But even before covid-19, Toronto was struggling with maintaining its concert venues, especially smaller ones that were more accessible to these artists. And that was just because, Toronto being Toronto, a lot of these spaces are getting bought up to be made into condos. So performance opportunities in our city were already few and far between. It's hard to get all artists an opportunity to perform. And obviously, it got even worse after covid-19 as more venues started and if no one could perform anywhere at all.
And there have been some solutions to work with this. The City of Toronto for example started this concert series where local artists will perform at local venues and they would be broadcast live. So the artists win and the venues win.
I had come across this news while I was doing my research, and it wasn't even on one of those major news sites like CTV or CBC. It was some other more independent site. And I found more information about this concert series buried in the city of Toronto's website. I went to check their social media because that's a primary form of communication for a lot of different cities or brands, and there was nothing. There was nothing about this concert series. Nothing to communicate about the artist to their wide platform of people. It was just covid-19 updates amongst other things. But no one was talking about this concert series.
And this is what I mean when I say that they're throwing money at the issue. Because the City of Toronto was already dealing with venues breathing down their necks for more financial support. It wouldn't be hard to come to this conclusion that this would be the solution. Artists need places to perform and venues need artists to perform in them.
Toronto already had the resources to make this happen. They had access to the artist and they had access to the venues. All they had to do is put them together. They didn't think about the other graphs that they had to fill. I mean, why do artists perform in the first place? They want an audience. They want people who will listen to their music and eventually become fans. They need people to actually watch this concert. So, how would that be called if no one's promoting it in the first place?
Think of artists like businesses. Businesses don't ask people to only buy their products once a month. They rely on steady growth in their revenue. They rely on loyalty. Artists don't have that here in Toronto. They have no way to build loyalty because they do maybe one show a month, if they're lucky. And then they're done.
Imagine the real difference Toronto could make if they stepped just beyond giving them a concert. Imagine if Toronto at least posted on social media about these and exposed these artists to over 100,000 people. That would make more of a difference. Maybe I am a bit biased because I work and study advertising, but I'm very surprised at how much the city of Toronto doesn’t think about how they should actually reach people, not just make things.
All of these non-profits in the city say words like "amplifying" or "platforming" these artists because their whole intention is to get these artists in front of more eyes. Imagine if the city of Toronto had that mindset. Imagine if they were very aware that they platform people. And they don't just platform people by having them show up on stage somewhere, they tell everyone. They use their media channels to actually tell everybody about the concerts that are happening in the city.
It's hard for me to consider communication as the gap that we’re facing. But it's true. Our industry and our new industry are so scattered that communication is actually rather difficult. We're a series of small communities rather than a large one. So it's difficult to spread the word. It's difficult to become shareable.
So at this point in my research, I started to reflect on our forms of communication and media. How do artists get big in the first place? Right now, those things can be credited to streaming platforms like Spotify. These platforms have kind of created a system in which they recommend new artists through playlists or at least spotlighting them on the home page.
Earlier in this podcast, I mentioned the good old days of being able to turn on the radio or TV and seeing Canadian content. Times have changed since then. TV and radio seem to be on their way out thanks to the rapid development in our technology. Now, we have the entire internet in an unlimited amount of content at our disposal now. And the Canadian media just hasn’t risen to the challenge. I'm actually going to give the credit to covid-19 finally pushing us to think digitally. But we still only go as far as using it as an extension of our pre-existing platforms. This is content that isn't necessarily optimized for being online or, in other words, it's not shareable or even original.
The internet has changed how we value or understand original content. It used to be that you would take whatever you’re watching on TV, but now, when you can literally watch anything anytime you want, we have more agency over what we want to see, at least to some degree. We have to actually go and look for things. Or we rely on the platforms that we have already. We have Netflix, have Spotify. They make those recommendations to us. There's this really interesting stat that's in this research report done by Vice Media and Ontario Creates where they talk to a bunch of young people, so teens, early 20, that kind of age. And it says 75% of Gen Z, so the people surveyed, say that original content or cultural content is important to them. So what do I mean by "cultural content?"
Well, cultural content is bite-size pieces that seek to entertain or inform. They are optimized for the digital platform. This could be YouTube videos or podcasts. They aren't necessarily limited to the kind of structure that a lot of traditional media has, like film or television, in which there needs to be this plotline. All it does is it needs to have a subject, and it literally just needs to be entertaining.
Some forms of cultural content we see in the music space include James Corden's Carpool Karaoke, where he takes a-list celebrities essentially for a drive so they can sing songs in his car. Or Hot Ones, where the host sits down, yet again a-list celebrities and they eat hot chicken wings while they answer questions. And it’s entertaining ‘cause it's just a little bit of fun really. It's fun to watch celebrities freak out over hot sauce or belt out these songs in their cars, the same songs that we belt out in our cars. But it's also informative because we get to learn about these celebrities like they're people.
We, in this day and age, on social media are so inclined to these parasocial relationships. We feel like we have to sort of understand or know these celebrities before we get into them. In my opinion, I feel like a lot of this comes from the rise in fandom, but I also think it has a lot to do with the fact that more and more we are becoming ethical consumers. Before we buy something, we consider, is this sustainable? Is the supporting people of colour? And for celebrities, it's proving you're a good person.
It's almost like an equation. Liking someone's art and liking them as a person creates this loyalty. It's actually a model that's seen at least in the most extreme form, in K-pop. There are K-pop idols, and idols are public figures who kind of have to be perfect, essentially. And of course, here in the West, we don't really appreciate that limitation of people. At least we don't at outwardly because we still have certain expectations of social awareness for these celebrities and when they kind of stray away from it, especially now with seeing them going to parties during COVID, we start to become disillusioned with them.
Some people antagonize this idea and label it all as “cancel culture.” They think cancel culture is just this toxic thing where nobody can do anything wrong. But rather than framing it like we're all on standby to tear someone apart, I approach it more like, well, people want to invest in something that they actually like. And these days, you don't even really consume anything without some sort of exchange because if you're not directly paying for something, you're giving it your data, your information.
I sat down with my roommates, the only two other Gen Z’s that I had available because it's COVID, and spoke to them about ethical consumption and what kind of content they like to watch.
[Roommate singing in a scratchy, off-key falsetto voice]
[Roommate interview begins]
NS: So, what I wanted to know is, what do you guys watch? Did you guys watch YouTube? Or even on Netflix I guess too, or Spotify, just what do you consume on a daily basis?
R1: I watch a lot of TikTok.
R2: Yeah she does. [All laugh]. Watches a lot. Honestly, probably same. I used to watch more YouTube until I downloaded TikTok actually. Is that a useful insight?
NS: Yeah. Well I mean, I guess it's more of like, if there are YouTubers in particular or people in particular that you like to consume, like it's your show, you keep up with it, you know what I mean?
R2: I used to have... I think I used to have people that I watch. Like I’d have channels. I use to have Corridor Crew, I'd keep up with them. I'd keep up with... there's this one girl who does these bass covers, Julia Grooves. I'm into F1 right now, Drive to Survive on Netflix baby, made F1 super accessible I think. My friend Katie actually noticed that a bunch of Gen Z's especially are super into F1 now, just because of Drive to Survive. 'Cause like it used to be just some old person, either old person or rich old person or rich person sport that people would keep up with. Or like, super Euro. But now, a lot of people are into it just because Drive to Survive is such a good Netflix documentary series.
R1: Uh, I watch a lot of video essays about movies.
NS: Yeah.
R1: But honestly, most of the time I got my YouTube content from, I don't know if it's called the explore page or the homepage or whatever.
R2: The algorithm.
R1: The algorithm. I don't really pay as much attention to the people I subscribe to anymore to be honest.
NS: Gotcha.
R1: Which is kind of like reminds me of Tik-Tok a little bit –
R2: Uh huh.
R1: - because you can kind of just happen upon stuff on TikTok and I’m not super closely following anyone on TikTok either. I just kind of go on the app and watch whatever is particularly interesting to me.
NS: So you guys were kind of saying that you're not the biggest on following anybody in particular, but you guys find that there has to be some level of, like, moral acceptability - like you can't watch somebody who's a total asshole or something like that?
R1: Honestly, I tend to block people actually. Not because I've engaged with them in any way and I want to block them for that reason, but I kind of just don't want their content showing up on my page anymore 'cause it's just kind of clouding my media space. So I end up blocking people who do problematic things 'cause I just don't want their stuff showing up around me.
NS: So, at least on some level, these people that make the content that you consume, they have to at least be likeable to you?
R1 & R2: Yes.
R2: Well yeah. I think likeable, nice people make better content as well. I'm not out here watching some guy be a jerk to women all day long for half an hour in a YouTube video being like, "Yeah, this is some quality content right here." It's not like, "Ahh fuck, because of cancel culture I feel obligated even though I still want to watch you," it's like, "Why'd you have to go and ruin it, 'cause now I actually don't like you and I can't watch you or I don't want to watch you." But I feel like it's easier than ever as well to just forget about a person, you know? Like if something happens. 'Cause now there's so many other people to watch and so many different things to watch. I'm not that committed, you know?
NS & R1: Yeah.
R2: But if I like someone, I'll like them a lot. But if someone turns out to be kind of a dick or, you know, turns out to have some problems, it's easier now than ever to be like, "See ya homie, I'll go look at some other people do other things."
R2: Yeah, especially when it comes to like, genres of content. Like if I wanted to watch fashion videos per se, it's not like how YouTube was 10 years ago where there were like, three people who did that. There are a million people who do that now. So if you did something problematic I just kind of be, "Okay, well I guess I'm moving on from you now and I'm gonna try to find this content somewhere else."
R2: Mhm.
NS: So how 'bout music? What do you guys think in terms of that level, where it's not like a YouTube video where you're constantly seeing them, but maybe you are listening to their music on a daily basis?
R1: I saw a TikTok about this the other day actually. With somebody who was kind of like, "Are we still collaborating with Chris Brown? Like, why are we still collaborating with Chris Brown?" [All laugh]. And I will find myself, like if he collaborates with an artist that I do like, A I'll find myself having complicated feelings about it, 'cause I'm like "Uh, you know, there's a whole system behind it, blah blah blah," but also I will actively avoid listening to that particular song and consuming any content involving him because he's a monster.
R2: I think the difference between the musicians and YouTubers right? It’s like, yeah, to your point, the music a little bit separate from them. Or it's like, it's their music. Whereas a lot of the time, if you're making TikToks, or a YouTube video, when you're out in front of it, you know? Your brand so to speak, or your personality or your character is a huge part of the content you make when you're making a video. Whereas your character is not necessarily as much of that when you're a musician, right? So like Kanye for example can say certain things and cut Taylor Swift off at the VMAs or, you know, go on his various different rants and stuff like that. But that's also who he is. He's not trying to be anyone other than that. Like he's not trying to… pose himself as something different. Whereas, a lot of the time when you see with YouTubers, at least the ones I don't like, is the fact that they are trying to be something different and then it's exposed as a ruse.
NS & R1: Yeah.
R1: He's not trying to be anyone else other than exactly who he is. But I think we also all have, not just people in this room, but everyone in the world has complicated feelings towards Kanye West, particularly because it's not just that he's an asshole, it's that there's a lot going on there, [laughs].
NS: I think the main thing that separates that is, there's definitely a lot of music I just listen to casually, and I don't even know who the artist actually is as a person, but I find that the music that I consume a little more regularly, or actually like to talk about or post about, it does come from artists that I just like. I like them as artists as well as their art, you know what I mean? And I feel like Kanye even falls into that category. Where it's like, people like Kanye, not just his album Jesus is King. Like, they like him. Even if he does have problems that come with him.
R2: Yeah, I feel like Kanye might be a bad example 'cause he's also got endearing parts to him.
NS: Yeah.
R2: Right? And he's not exactly out here committing huge crimes like R. Kelly or beating women and stuff like that. So there's like a varying degree scale. I will say this: You'd have to do something really really bad for me to just like not listen to you I think. But I think that's still something that's possible. But, if you are a nice person, if I like you as a person, I’m gonna listen a lot more to you as well. So I think that also makes a huge difference.
R1: Yeah. A lot would have to be done for me to turn off your music, but if you're a good person I'll turn it on more.
NS: So maybe it has less to do with ethicality and making an ethical decision, but more so about personality and really just if we like them.
[End of Roommate Interview]
NS: My conversation with Leo and Sid seemed to really reflect the times. We didn't necessarily cancel people, but we did get to choose. And we just didn't want to choose to watch people who we didn't particularly like.
This kind of consumer behaviour is really unique to Gen Z because they grew up in a digital era. With the introduction of social media, it's so easy to access the personal lives or so-called personal lives of celebrities. But in general, and this applies across history, looking to youth has always been a way to predict the projection of pop culture. Yet, we haven't really been speaking to them here in Canada.
There's a void we have when it comes to communicating Canadian music and media and the absence of an outlet like Much Music was for me. After a little more research and some project development, I finally my research project, called Escape.
Back in January, my friends and I were goofing around in the group chat with one of those Spotify extensions let you know more about your streaming habits beyond the yearly wrapped. It was just somebody that made fun of your music taste. And it called my music taste something along the lines of "escape room bullshit." My first thought was that this was about the literal escape room, you know the one that people go to with their friends. But I noticed that a friend of mine had that too, so I asked him what it meant. He had no idea. And when I don't know, I just have to Google it. And what I learned fascinated me.
“Escape Room” was a genre, but not just any genre. It was a new kind of AI genre that was curated by this suspiciously large group of people and their shared listening habits, not by sound. Meaning that, if you look at any playlist or artist roster featuring escape room artists, you'll notice that they all sound completely different.
There's this one photo that really says it all. It's more of a map really. A map of all the artists’ names considered to be "escape room." And they're scattered across the screen in this array of colours. If you pick out any five of them, they’ll look like a very random combination. There's Le Tigre, an electronic rock band fronted by 90s riot grrrl legend, Kathleen Hanna. But then you have SZA, one of the most popular R&B artists out there right now, known for her dreamlike sound. And then you have Charli XCX, iconic pop girl leading the new wave of the electro-pop dance sound.
The genres that we know and love emerged from cultural moments. If you look at the history behind any one of them, they were made as a reflection of our culture at the time, and they grow and evolve as tastes change. And escape room isn't all that different either, because it's a reflection of how the digital age has allowed us to access more music than ever before. It's a reflection of how we have learned to seek new music for ourselves, rather than being subjected to it. A sentiment about how people just love music.
My project Escape is tapping into that very mentality. The exploration in celebration of music. The joy of finding your new favourite artist. These are the feelings I want to create for the Canadian music industry.
So what is it? Well, Escape is a media platform. And it facilitates this kind of discovery. It taps into this idea that cultural content is a pathway, not only to discovery of new things and artists, but also a pathway to loyalty, to building this morale and this connection between the audience and the artist.
And before you say anything, I know they're not celebrities. I'm not really trying to make them celebrities. I'm trying to build a connection and create this sense of loyalty so people feel more compelled to want to actually listen more or buy merch or buy albums. Really, this platform is for visibility. It's about keeping local artists front of mind. And while doing this, we're opening up more pathways for profit that are more consistent than just performing at a show once a month for these artists. And I've really built out the strategic model on how to make this happen.
And it's not as unfathomable as you may think. There are technologies is very similar to what I'm developing that are seen in the UK or South Korea that have contributed majorly to their respective music industries. Escape not only acts as a platform that supports these artists, but we also act as cultural tastemakers. We have to constantly evaluate trends and create strategies, something that a lot of these major industry stakeholders have neglected to do. And maybe that's because Gen Z is so hard to understand.
Right now, the industry is full of millennials, Gen Xs and even some Boomers. Gen Z is just starting to move in. I mean, I'm considered to be the oldest of Gen Z and I'm about 22, just finishing school right now. So who better to reintroduce listen to this generation than someone who's in that generation themselves? Over the last couple of months, I started to Pivot. Because originally, this was just a school project to me. But then it became something more.
I had increasingly more conversations with people who are in the industry right now. And when I would just tell them about my idea, at least on a surface level, they would be intrigued. The more conversations I had, the more people believed in me. And one day, even my dad asked me, "Why don't you just make it real?" And now, well... All I can really say is that I'm trying.
But trying to start an industry-changing business during a global pandemic definitely is even more difficult than it sounds because it's pretty hard to run that kind of business on your own.
You need more people and money of course. But I can't go out right now and to network to find a new co-founder. I also can't go around meeting investors that can help me. And let me tell you, the money part of a startup is the most intimidating to me. The idea of asking someone to financially help me is something that I'm kind of struggling with. There have been multiple times where, while talking to my dad about this, I would break into tears because doing my research I've read so many articles about how Black women, which I am one, who are trying to be entrepreneurs or are entrepreneurs, they get last funded, despite having more proof-of-concept for their project and that it would work. There's also the fact that I could not tell you a female Black entrepreneur in the tech or media space that's killing it right now. I'm staying all white men who live in Silicon Valley.
And it's just not me. I'm a 22-year Black woman living in Canada in an apartment with my two friends. I don't fit. And it doesn't feel good, but at the same time, like I mentioned in the beginning, I want to be able to give opportunity to others. So maybe someone has to be first. But I'm already fighting a bit of an uphill battle.
The struggle is that the intention of this project is to bring a scattered community together. It's also intended to break out of a broken system. Somehow, I'm supposed to rise above and make it happen, change an economy. It's definitely a really steep climb. Regardless, I still want to make it happen. I started having conversations with professionals in different corners of the industry. They sound intrigued, but of course they are occupied. They'll wait till I get off the ground to join in.
So while I am here to tell you a story, I'm also here to ask for your help. Sure, I know about marketing strategy and media, but I have a very surface-level understanding of things like production, technology and finance. So basically the most important stuff. In a way, I'm hoping that telling this story on this platform is the start of a serendipitous meeting; that one of you listening we're looking for this moment too, for something to jump in on. So, my door is open.
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You can find me @cupofnatcha on Instagram. Words of encouragement and new friends are needed as well, to be honest. Let's do something big together. And thank you for listening.
RC: Thanks for listening to Hopping the Fence, a podcast dedicated to the fringes of the Canadian art scene. If you have an artist that you would like to hear interviewed, would like to correct / fact check a past episode, or would like to chat, feel free to send me a message on Instagram @hoppingthefence, or by email at rebeccaecasalino@gmail.com. Thanks to the OCAD Student Union for your financial support. Thank you to all of our patrons for your ongoing support. It truly does help me avoid burnout and keeps this podcast rolling. If you would like to support Hopping the Fence, please visit our Patreon to subscribe. Check out the show notes for more details. If you can’t donate, no worries. Thanks for taking the time to listen.
Audio editing for Hopping the Fence by Emily Reimer. Original artwork by Alex Gregory, and original music by Jessica Price Eisner.
Thank you so much, bye!
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