The businesses around the bands are hit just as hard by the lack of live music. How does an indie ecosystem survive without shows?

Jazz Fest-friendly, Frenchmen Street-friendly musicians in New Orleans have been able to stay active during the Coronavirus shutdown through live streams because their music can scale down. It works without amps and in many cases, intimacy is one of their selling points. Indie rock musicians have not been so lucky, though. The Indie rock community has always been an awkward fit in New Orleans, a city with a music scene that has never loved new, cutting edge sounds the way it loves its roots.

So what happens to the indie rock business when there are no gigs? The question is particularly prescient for New Orleans because the closure of Gasa Gasa and Circle Bar means there will be fewer places to play when clubs reopen.

 Indie rock wasn’t particularly lucrative before the shutdown. Most indie musicians have side jobs because they cannot afford to pay their bills off music alone, which explains why every touring band has stories about sketchy sleeping arrangements in the apartments of fans at the show. Sometimes those shortcuts are the only way to make ends meet.

New Zealand singer/songwriter Tamaryn told Vulture.com, “Anything emo or metal is gonna make merch—that’s the way to make money.”  The merchandise table is a crucial source of income for touring indie bands, as Katherine Paul of Black Belt Eagle Scout explains.  

“Whenever I’m on tour, I have to hustle my merch because it’s the only way to make a profit,” she says. “As an emerging artist, touring and support fees aren’t a lot—and a percentage is going to my agent, and my manager, and my band members. I make $60 or $70 a day playing a show.”

But even before COVID-19, it usually wasn’t enough. Americana artist Adia Victoria admitted last year, “I’m broke. I had to downsize my life this past year. I moved back home with my family just to take off the added stress of making rent in Nashville.”

Fortunately, indie music tends to attract true believers—people who buy into the music and musicians enough to support the bands, whether by buying merch or offering bands a meal, a beer, or a place to stay. Some care enough to want to help make it possible for bands to make music. Patrick Bailey, for example, runs Strange Daisy Records in New Orleans with his wife Rachel, who helps with the business side. Even though the record label is only four years young, it is supported by friends of the Baileys and the bands who come to record their music.

“I love the whole aspect of putting out a record,” Patrick says. “Seeing it come to life. That’s what I like about music and what makes me want to be a part of a record label.”

Running Strange Daisy Records seemed like the perfect career to Patrick Bailey. Since he was a young boy, Bailey has been drawn to music and making it. He claims that making music is more of an activity for a younger crowd, but the label allows him to be involved with music and business. 

Bailey supports independent music in New Orleans, and Strange Daisy released nine projects in 2020 despite the long shadow cast by Coronavirus including albums from High, Silver Godling and Little Death, as well as a seven-inch single by AF the Naysayer. Strange Daisy sells physical copies of vinyl and cassettes in addition to digital downloads.

Indie music may mean something different to everyone, but Bailey claims that it is under the radar from the mainstream, deviating from a commercial sound, and it has a do-it-yourself attitude. Above all, indie music promotes self-expression for the individual artist.

Bailey is not the only one praising indie music’s deviation from the mainstream. Bryan Funck sells indie music as the co-owner of punk record shop Sisters in Christ, and he makes it as lead singer in heavy rock band Thou, which recently released May Our Chambers Be Full with Emma Ruth Rundle. The people who come to the shop are often out of town tourists, bands on tour, and people he knows. Two of those three are in short supply these days.

Like Bailey, Bryan Funck has been involved in music most of his life and believes that “the record shop was a logical progression” in his career. He curates the store’s selection, which sometimes means that he’ll “jump on getting some obscure band music” that he knows and cares about, and is less inclined to select perennial sellers for the shop, even if they would be good for his bottom line.

“I want to keep the shop as interesting for me as possible in terms of what is coming in,” he says.

Funck says that bands are a lot more focused on digital music, and. Rachel Bailey agrees. When she was younger, her friends would listen to vinyl and CDs. Now, young people grow up making playlists and listening to digital music. “They never had to deal with the physicality of music,” she says.

Because of that, “musicians are a lot more focused on the digital stuff right now,” Funck says.

Limited edition vinyl and cassette runs can get buyers’ attention, but other physical objects associated with indie culture haven’t enjoyed the same cache. “As a teenager, discovering punk was going to shows and finding records, books, and zines at the shows.,” Funck says. Those ‘zines and books that introduced Funck, the Baileys, and a few generations of indie fans to obscure, regional bands are slowly dying out. Streaming sites make it possible for curious listeners to check out artists without a ‘zine’s to act as tip sheet. Unfortunately, those listens don’t translate to meaningful money for anyone other than the most listened-to artists. For indie musicians, the payoff is negligible.

Rachel Bailey believes that streaming services are at odds with one of the fundamental aspects of indie culture. “Indie music is about going out and finding something, and the channel that people use to find something has changed so much with the Internet,” she says. “A lot of times on social media it finds you.”

Even though anyone could listen to music and develop an appreciation for it, COVID-19 has impacted the indie music community greatly. According to Rachel Bailey, “it has been hard witnessing bands’ experiences during COVID times. A lot of bands have not practiced because they do not want to be in proximity to one another, fearing that they will contract the virus from their fellow band members. It has been interesting to see the stratification between bands who need to practice because their livelihood depends on it versus bands that have let things go by the wayside because there is so much going on.”

Contrary to popular belief, the virus has not impacted most indie artists’ release schedule, a good indicator of them striving to continue making profit. Strange Daisy has been active, and judging by Funck’s experience at Sisters in Christ, the label’s not alone.

 “It does not really seem that things have slowed down that much in terms of releases,” he says.

The ongoing supply of new product doesn’t necessarily mean that there’s a healthy market for it. It was hard for Funck to keep the shop open before the pandemic and “now it’s been a little extra hard,” he says. Is this because people are not going out as much? Is it because people are losing revenue and do not wish to spend as much on records as they used to before? Likely it’s some of both, but Funck believes the Coronavirus “killed a big chunk of the income of the shop.”

There’s no easy answer for indie rock, just as there isn’t one for any music community right now, but Patrick Bailey of Strange Daisy thinks it’s the same now as it was before COVID-19. He believes that one of the vital aspects needed for the indie music ecosystem is people showing up and showing support. Others helping spread the word of any artist they enjoy goes a long way. It can help market the artist and raise awareness of any past, current and future creations. “Not having shows can be tough financially, emotionally, and creatively,” he says. Without the support of those who care about the music, every worker in the indie music ecosystem may be in danger.