(2014 NZ tour L-R Cy Winstanley, Rachel Baiman, me, Christian Sedelmyer)
At the beginning of 2014, I should have been on top of the world.
My band had just won the New Zealand Music Award for Folk, had our most profitable NZ tour yet with 10 String Symphony, and finished the heavy lifting to make a dream come true of moving to Nashville.
But instead, I was sitting on the floor of my mum’s apartment, having my first full-blown panic attack.
Four weeks before, I had moved out of my apartment and left for a month-long tour the same day (do not recommend), dropping the remainder of my possessions at my mum’s place on the way to the first show.
The concerts with Rachel and Christian (10 String) were incredible and we had promising sales from day one of the tour, but I was irritable and barely able to enjoy it. I fretted daily about ticket sales and online promotion and would stay inside on my laptop, clutching at unnecessary minute planning details with a death grip while my tourmates swam in the ocean.
I was too preoccupied with show details and exhausted by long travel days to stop and think whether tequila shots were the best approach to managing my raging pre-set anxiety.
We finished the tour with a show in my hometown, and the next morning as I was sorting through my belongings, trying to decide what to include in my “new life in Nashville” suitcase, my pulse began to race. It felt like a hundred bees were swarming under my heart as I struggled to articulate to my mum what was happening to me - something I couldn’t explain because it had never happened quite like this before.
The culmination of months of extreme stress preparing an album release, planning a tour, and dealing with logistics around relocating to the USA had sent my body’s warning system screaming a siren so loud that my brain finally couldn’t ignore it.
It took a few years to find a healthy way to cope with the music-life stress that triggered that panic attack. And part of the reason I was so willing to live with that stress level for so long was knowing how many of my music friends and colleagues were also dealing with overwhelm, stress, anxiety, and/or depression. There is solidarity in the struggle; when everyone feels it, it must be normal, right?
It wasn’t just among my friends, either.
Musicians are three times more susceptible to depression than the average person. 68.5% of musicians have experienced depression, and 71.1% have had severe anxiety or panic attacks.
Rolling Stone reported this 2018 study that found “nearly 12 percent of musicians reported having suicidal thoughts - nearly four times the general population.” According to this 2019 study, 73 percent of independent musicians have battled stress, anxiety, and depression.
When I was at my worst mentally, I was convinced that constant effort and prolonged stress were just what you had to do to get ahead in music. Even though I had stress-induced cystic acne, ground my teeth, and had had at least one legit panic attack, I thought I didn’t suffer from mental health troubles because everyone else I knew in music had the same experiences.
Eventually, I realized that it being common didn’t make it right.
As musicians, we are told we need to be singularly focused on our careers, give up everything else in our lives and dedicate every waking moment to the pursuit of success.
If we politely point out we don’t have time to do all the required daily tasks to win, we are told that if we really wanted it, we would find the time.
The following are all real quotes from highly successful music business gurus whose stated goal is to help independent musicians build their careers:
“You need to be constantly working, constantly pushing”
“Building a music career requires working at it for twelve hours a day. Every single day. Of course, not many humans can actually do that. But that's what it takes.”
“If you’re serious about your music career, you will find the time”
“If you have a backup plan, you will fall back on it… do not have a backup plan”
Those same “gurus” also say, “it’s not a sprint, it’s a marathon,” so they’re telling us to run for 12 hours every day, for our entire LIVES, and we wonder why we’re crying and vomiting on the side of the race track or having a panic attack over a suitcase.
The idea of all or nothing is disproportionately discouraging for women because they’re also statistically more likely to be the primary caregiver in families and not in a position even to consider giving anything their all.
75% of unpaid caregivers are women, and 84% of people believe that mothers of young children should not be working part-time or at all.
And we’re not asking women to work full time, we’re telling them they have to work ALL the time even to have a chance of success.
Given the pressure on musicians, the statistics on mental health in the industry are not surprising.
MusiCares reports that music professionals “experience higher rates of depression and anxiety than people in other industries for reasons ranging from isolation, erratic hours, financial instability, social media to performance anxiety.” And in response, they provide some excellent support and resources to help.
I love that help is out there for musicians going through difficult periods, but wouldn’t it be great if the industry stopped creating an environment where musicians suffer in the first place?
Until record label execs and music business leaders stop collectively requiring musicians to pour their life savings into the music they’ll inevitably have to give away almost for free on streaming services, schlep it on exhausting indie tours, or chase tour busses by car as the opening act just to recoup an album advance or pay rent, while simultaneously insisting they present a bigger, bolder, more on version of themselves across all social media platforms every day, or get starkly vulnerable in the hopes of a viral moment, no free therapy in the world is going to make a dent.
Just because so many musicians are experiencing similar stresses doesn’t make it normal. It means something needs to change.
It’s time for the industry to stop framing success as x amount of plays or x fans while ignoring the financial, emotional, familial, and physical well-being of the person creating the music. We need to build a version of the industry that we can succeed in not just despite being ourselves but because we show up as our full, authenticate selves.
That’s my long-term dream, but here’s what we can do today:
Let’s stop punishing ourselves for being unwilling or unable to give up everything else in our lives for our music careers. Instead, let’s value a balance between music, family, health, and (dare I say it) hobbies to ensure we stay happy and healthy.
Choose who we listen to. Just because someone knows how to get on a Spotify playlist or create viral content to get followers doesn’t mean they understand what it’s like to live the nuanced life of an independent musician. When someone tells you to do extreme things in pursuit of a narrow goal, consider the possibility that it’s just bad advice.
Lower the stakes. Not on how much we care about music and the art we create but on how fast we expect to grow. Slow growth means long-term sustainability and creating the kind of life you can continue to live into your twilight years. Fast growth usually requires working so intensely and at such an unsustainable pace that burnout is inevitable.
Change how we measure success. Success is creating something you’re proud of, making a difference in one person’s day, or stepping outside your comfort zone. Success is one hundred fans you’ve attracted into your world while living an emotionally, physically, and financially stable life. Success is sharing your love of music by teaching kids or singing to people with dementia to brighten their day. Success is communicating a profound feeling you’ve had bubbling inside you into a song lyric you can finally share it with the world. Success is the unparalleled gift of a life spent making music. Success is whatever you want it to look like.
Friends - I don’t usually make this direct request, but please share this piece with as many musicians as you know. The mental health statistics are horrifying and you never know who might need to hear this today and feel a little less alone in the struggle so many of us are in.
Let me know your thoughts by commenting below or replying to the email.
Thanks for the wake up and smell the realness and assurance that the pathway and long way around to my music career is slow and hard work.... I appreciated reading this as I will one day tour the world and your collective thoughts brought forward the momentum that realism is to I never push myself as its not in anyones best interests. #instagramkiwikore an Auckland Girl through and through. Some times are blue, phew for you Vanessa.... "
Very good advice