Tough Lessons I’ve Learned From Trying To Break The UK Music Industry As An Artist
As the old adage goes — everyone loves to give advice, whether it is welcomed or not. Instead of presenting you with a tiresome list of ‘do’s and don’ts’ on how to succeed in the music industry, I want to relay some of the tough lessons I’ve learned first hand from my attempt at forging a career as a singer and songwriter over the last seven years in London.
Long story short — singing was always my ‘thing’. Since the age of four when I had the solo of singing ‘Away in a Manger’ at my pre-school Nativity, confused as to why there were teary members of the audience after my performance — I always felt that music, despite coming from a non-musical family or background — was just in my blood.
I never went to music school or studied professionally. Being brought up in a second generation Indian/Pakistani household by a single parent, like so many others my only focus was to do well academically, and to get a sensible vocation so that I could earn, support and give back. Battling my deepest wants and desires to stay in London and earn work as a performer, I toddled off to Law school. The only thing that got me through endlessly dark days analysing cases in the library was that I wasn’t a quitter, and I made a promise to myself that I would return to London the moment I finished to make a living as a singer. After all, i’m lucky to be a young(ish) capable man in one of the best cities in the world, and I had a fire in my belly with a point to prove. I emerged back in the Capital with the simple philosophy of “I can achieve anything I put my own mind to”.
Eight years down the line, I’m leaving music. It doesn’t matter that I don’t have a deal, management, label, funding or publisher. I do have hard-earned experience and a few songs I am beyond proud of writing. What does matter is that I can no longer physically or mentally keep pursuing my dreams in the way I’d have hoped. Something just has to give when you can no longer support yourself.
Music became a toxic relationship — waiting by the phone for someone to ring, saying they love your work and want to help is no-one’s idea of a fulfilling and proactive way of living your best and only life. Music can be a wonderful refuge, a safe space, a canister of oxygen when you are suffering and suffocating in life. Escapism. Healing. But when the very thing you love becomes a burden, a weighted life jacket slowly dragging you under — it’s time to let it go. For me, sinking is the feeling that I’ve lost my unconditional love of music somewhere along the way.
I’m taking this time away to pick up some of the pieces of myself that have been eroded by the river of reality along the way and to remind myself of the big why. This outline isn’t written from a jaded or bitter place of resentment on the humiliating boulevard of broken dreams. There should be no regrets in really living for a burning passion or purpose — realising that you have nothing to lose and that the worst thing is simply not to get up and try. This essay is just for myself — and for any other burning, bright young people who are embarking on the oftentimes lonely path of self-discovery on following their deepest dreams. If you can take anything positive away from my mountain of mistakes then at least my thorny journey hasn’t all been in vain.
Being your own development deal
Unlike actors who go to drama school, audition for plays and work to secure an agent — there is no well worn path to being a singer — no real ‘framework’ in which to exist unless you have a development deal, a management team working with you or signed to a major label or producer early on in your career. I was never lucky enough to start in a place like that seeing as I arrived in music ‘late’ but I had a core belief that real talent and hard work will never go unrecognised. Plus I always look at artists who had a difficult route to success like Bowie and Leonard Cohen, and who were never championed by the industry early on, latching onto their stories for inspiration.
While I was fearful and insecure that other singers and songwriters on the same circuit as me had trained at Brit School, or already had deals and major producers / songwriters they were working with — as well as seemingly endless amounts of money to spend on expensive PR campaigns and studio time (there’s a reason posh kids funded by the bank of mum and dad are found all over the music industry: https://noisey.vice.com/en_uk/article/rzvag4/started-from-the-top-now-were-here-why-are-so-many-of-britains-top-popstars-posh) I knew that starting at ground zero would be hard but possible. I just had to be persistent and take every opportunity.
Multiple industry sources told me that major labels don’t invest in development anymore — so you have to be your own development deal. This meant doing all the things you think you’re supposed to do like constantly refining your writing, being open to collaborating with other songwriters, finding producers to work with, creating a unique image and sound, building a fanbase etc. I don’t honestly think development ever really stops in a true artist’s career. The real problem is — if you are only developing yourself — how can you take yourself further when the only person you can have a creative conversation with is yourself? And when you have very limited budget and resources? This leads me to…
Finding Mentors
I was always told to play music for and to people for feedback and to put myself out there if you have no team to work with. This creates a conflict. Many people want to see a finished product and you don’t want to ruin a ‘first impression’ of yourself by approaching top music lawyers or labels with an iPhone recording of your first demos. Catch-22.
With this in mind, I was told that finding a great singing teacher who has industry connections is a pretty good place to start. So I whizzed off to see a top coach who has worked with numerous pop stars and the like at a fancy studio in West London, having saved up money for a month at my part-time promo job for the huge £90 for the hour consultation/lesson. He took one look at me and said ‘Don’t bother wasting your time here. You’re Asian. There are no Asian singers on the UK charts.’ I wish I could say that I stormed up to him and said ‘Just you watch me do precisely that’ as a strong, independent adult — but I wasn’t as strong then, and took what he said to heart.
When you’re out there alone and feeling vulnerable — you look for guidance, mentorship and validation everywhere you can. I looked in the wrong places and let it affect me and the music I was making. Dan Brown said something fantastic about writing novels after the crazy success of ‘Da Vinci Code’ : simply write the novel you want to read. Along the way I forgot to just make the music or the song that I’d like to hear.
What happens for another artist / friend will not be the same for you
I’ve been lucky enough to have been close to a hugely successful British popstar. We sang at the same shows before her fame, talked till the wee hours about music, drove to McDonalds at midnight in her car dreaming about a future being on a world tour — and I was by her side during her meteoric rise to stardom. Looking back, what a privilege to be privy to all the goings-on behind the scenes of the making of a superstar — from how the label would ensure a song peaked in the top 5 by paying radio to play it, to the moulding of her image to sell more records as well as media training to erase elements of her personality. The fact that this goes on in the star system is no secret. But I made the mistake of trying to emulate the path to success that worked for her. Suffice to say — it didn’t. To the point where all the money I had left was put into getting one record fully produced to shop around to labels, and people I sent it to said it sounded like a song made by my friend. Fail.
I’m recently reminded that Adele was singing gospel and blues piano ballads at a time no one else was doing it. And of Amy — what other 16 year old Camdenite was writing modern Jazz standards that could have been penned by singers that lived 60 years ago?
After all this time, it’s still so hard to keep going your own, singular way. And as time passes, life on the side of having security, regular income and structure in your life looks more and more appealing, as we all continue to search for meaning and familiarity in our lives. We also try to learn from mistakes, not only from ourselves but others — and sometimes this translates to ‘what worked for someone else could work for me’. But when it all comes down to it at the end — the only thing you can really be proud of is being yourself. There’s too many people out there being someone else. Too much music that sounds like something else. Guess the disheartening thing is that after all these years — i’m still just trying to find my own voice, whatever that is. I probably should have found that by now. Which leads me on to…
Writing 200+ songs
My successful friend told me to write over 200 songs to ‘find your voice’. While i’m currently on around song number 192 and I think that writing a lot can help, writing songs for the sake of a song sucks. Again there are too many generic songs out there. Who needs another tale of shaking your ass in the club for no reason? Or something churned out with little thought and soul poured into it?
While songwriting is definitely a craft and can be perfected and honed over time — it all comes back to what you want to say and how you want to say it — and it all has to come from the artist. Halsey recently said in an interview that she doesn’t start a song unless she knows what she wants to say in it — and that she has used every song she has written apart from two in her life. Perhaps that is why at the age of 24 she has released two studio albums already. She may be an exception — but you have to give some credence to the saying ‘quality not quantity.’ Even in the streaming market of music where artists seem to release a track a week: I still believe less is more.
Another piece of advice I received was about turning pro. Apparently the idea of being a professional artist/songwriter is to just turn up to the job even if you don’t feel like it because it is work. Problems occur when you do this again and again until you hate or fear every second of it and you forget why you wanted to do this in the first place. I’m not complaining — what a privilege to have opportunities. You just have to be in the right mindspace to make the most of them, if you are just there for the sake of it, aren’t we not only wasting our own time but the time of the lovely people who are there to support you?
Being a Solo Artist isn’t easier than being in a band
I have a theory that people start singing or making music to connect to others. To break the loneliness of living.
Sure — as a one man tour-de-force — you can just go out and gig on a whim, as well as not have to deal with messy publishing splits and egos. But, when you’re low or have had a bad gig or terrible writing session — as a solo artist you always alone. No one’s gonna pick you up, tell you that you did a good job when you’re in a pub 100 miles from London singing to a crowd of one — or even just be there for company and brotherhood so that the bad days feel less… crap. It took me so long to find people who will support or play with me, even if it’s not completely necessary — other bands, artists and singers. This comes especially in handy when you’re backstage with a crate of beers. Do you really want to be the one who’s drinking them after a show alone?
I always indulged in a romantic fantasy about being part of a scene or a collective of artists that rise up together — but it’s so difficult to do this in modern London when more acts just operate online, especially solo singers — and even fewer commit to a gruelling live schedule (and you can’t always blame them — it can be a dog’s life). Irrespective — you want to share the journey with people that aren’t just fans, but understand the ins and outs of the daily artist struggle, as well as one day hopefully be looking back on those days together when you’re both on the same bill at Glasto.
Paying for writing sessions
One of the singers I befriended on the circuit who was generating a bit of ‘buzz’ recommended me to write with a producer in Brighton. After a phone call, he said it was £150 per day to write songs with him and knowing no better — I paid it. Again and again. Over 2 years. I had no clue until recently that you shouldn’t be paying at all for writing sessions as the other person in the room is getting an equal split of your publishing for any material that you create — but alas, it was a classic case of being backed into a corner.
I was going down to Brighton at least once a month to try and get demos and material down because I had no other contacts and network: and I learned the hard way after he repeatedly was promising to help me secure a deal — that everyone takes advantage of an unknown and struggling artist. The final straw came when the producer introduced me to another more successful songwriter who had his own studio in Kent. I scheduled a songwriting session with him, and the Brighton man called me declaring his horror at me scheduling something without his permission. He insisted on being there, and nice guy that I am — thought there was no harm in it, so let him attend. During the session, he sat strumming in the corner and didn’t contribute anything to the actual songwriting — but the way publishing works is that people who are involved in the songwriting at the time (even if it means just being in the room) get a split of the royalties. Afterwards, he calls me and says that I owe him £150 for the day of his ‘work’. Getting angry and refusing to pay that and to be associated with him again seemed like the only way out. These situations are all too common in ‘the industry’ and I just can’t help but feel that it’s not on and I no longer want to be a part of the dirtiness of it all.
Famous Friends can’t always help
I was extra lucky that my kind and famous popstar friend played my music to the head of her label and Spotify. The one thing all artists want is to simply be heard — and I was. The truth is — my music was right on the line. It showed potential and pricked ears but it wasn’t a game changer and I didn’t have immediate world-changing hits. Labels are interested not only in voices, but in packages and collections of radio-ready songs.
I was in the bucket along with so many other really good artists who were great but not ‘wow’. Truthfully, it sucks if your music itself isn’t up to scratch — but at least I now know. If you haven’t got something truly game-changing that you can showcase that stands on its own legs — no amount of celebrity or influencer endorsements will help — despite what it may look like on Instagram. In a roundabout way, i’m grateful because it reaffirms my belief that cream rises to the top. I have the most respect for people that do get there on their own like Ed Sheeran — because it takes talent and a completely relentless, fearless attitude to have that kind of success.
Don’t take this advice
To reiterate my introduction — i’m just letting out some of the things that have happened to me on my own artist journey. It’s futile to blame one thing or one person: like most cases, it’s not black and white, and often times several factors lead to either success or failure. And the crazy thing is — after all of this, it really can still be random or sheer luck.
The best advice I ever read was from director Martin Scorsese, who said something along the lines of: if you want to direct — just go out there and start directing. It’s the same thing with music. It doesn’t matter the amount you read online or advice you get given — you have to develop an instinct and a ‘gut’ for it, and write your own, singular and compelling artist story. Above all — never lose your love for music. And if you do, just stop for a minute to salvage the only thing that matters.
I ended up dumping all my finished and unfinished / abandoned material online in the form of a mixtape after being unable to fund any further recording or to pay producers to finish up stuff.
If you want to indulge me, you can listen to some of my music here:
