In May, I wrote a column (reprinted below) for Billboard magazine, essentially the Bible of the music industry. It was a pointed indictment on an industry that has turned a blind eye toward the mental, emotional, and physical safety of artists for decades. The response from large music groups (Warner, Sony & Universal) was immediate and seemingly sincere, but systemic change is sadly still only talk.
On the heels of Mental Health Awareness Month, the music community would be remiss to not critically examine the mental health of the most vulnerable among us — specifically, the child and youth labor that represents a significant portion of our market share, revenues, and slots on the new-artist charts. The state of our entertainment union, one that seemingly venerates youth above all else, ironically puts a shamefully low value on artists’ holistic well-being, putting them in myriad situations that are age-inappropriate, and that are dangerous mentally, emotionally and physically.
The discussion of youth safety in the workplace is hardly new and as the recent documentary about abuses at Nickelodeon — Quiet on the Set: The Dark Side of Kids TV — showed, we’ve seen embarrassing and tragic cases of the industry putting commerce before conscience. Having only minimal guardrails in place, such practices have resulted in mental health damages that oddly run counter to the fiscal goals of the industry itself, but more importantly, cause mental scars on young artists that are carried into adult life.
A recent study published by JAMA Psychiatry echoed what so many other studies have shown: over 40% of adult mental illness — anxiety, depression, substance use and suicidal ideation — can be linked to traumatic events sustained in childhood and adolescence. The study strongly advocates for policy-driven prevention measures to reduce the rates of youth mistreatment to reduce rates of serious mental illness in adulthood.
What Should the Music Industry Do?
The entertainment industry, and specifically the music industry, needs to enact systemic, policy-driven changes that introduce the presence of mental health therapists in virtually all situations and venues encountered by new artists. These shadows, if you will, can protect an artist, thereby protecting the asset the label has so dearly invested in.
What would this look like? Just as we require on-set academic tutoring and adhere to child-labor OSHA protections, the music industry should lead the way and have 24/7 mental health support for each and every new signing, helping the artists navigate their new reality of constant adoration, free-flowing money, highly-sexualized environments, prevalent drugs and alcohol, and long, unsupervised hours in studios and on the road where rampant sexual/gender-based harassment and assault can and does occur. Labels and publishers would present standardized curricula related to mental health on-boarding upon signing, mental health de-boarding upon termination (ie, when an artist is dropped), gender-based assault/harassment safety best practices, recording studio safety, balanced and healthy touring, and general psychotherapy, among other things.
Some forward-thinking industry players are already part of that change. Nettwerk Music Group builds “wellness budgets” into their artist deals. Limited Edition Music Publishing, a new independent publisher, does the same. Non-profits including MusiCares, Sweet Relief, and Backline also offer valuable assistance. But the list of agencies, labels, and publishers giving only lip service during Mental Health Awareness Month is pathetically long.
The Time Is Now
For more than 15 years, I was a senior level A&R executive. Over those years, I signed a number of young songwriters and bands (Disturbed, Michelle Branch, Hoobastank, BRMC, Remy Zero, among others). The industry thrives on the young. Michelle Branch was 14 when I signed her. The stories many young women tell of being harassed, including Phoebe Bridgers and Billie Eilish, very likely could have been minimized or avoided with the presence of therapist shadows (and zero tolerance for the men doing the harassing). But as it stands, mental health initiatives in the music industry mostly remain performative talking points.
Artists are our livelihood. They are our passion. We as an industry need to do better, proactively protecting them at all costs from predatory, dehumanizing behavior that relegates them to the status of a disposable widget and not someone’s child. To be sure: Artists will be dropped, singles won’t be worked, and albums will be shelved — that’s business — but how the artist is treated when these events occur can make all the difference in their lives going forward.
And what’s the payoff? How about fewer artists with devastating identity issues, severe depression, debilitating anxiety, substance use disorders, or suicidal ideation? How about artists who don’t flame and burn out? How about artists whose creativity is boundless and ever-evolving? And how about cultivating a whole generation of young artists who are emotionally, mentally, spiritually, and physically at the top of their game — thriving and creating — and not traumatized by the very industry meant to nurture them? Now there’s a legacy we could all be proud of.
This post also appears in Billboard magazine.
