In many ways, Uncrowned exemplify the volatile, vulnerable state of today's music business, a world rife with confusion, delusion, great promise, and great risk. With CDs being eclipsed by downloading (which brings in far less revenue), major record companies are more desperate than ever to score megapopular acts. A band that sells, say, 300,000 albums is negligibly profitable at best. The large-scale services a major offers -- distribution, marketing, promotion -- are more suited to pushing Justin Timberlake from two million to five million copies sold. Few new rock bands approach that level. . . .
And what does a "hit" mean anymore? Radio rotates only a handful of songs to an ever-declining audience, and MTV airs just a smattering of videos. Fans are more likely to encounter new artists via TV commercials or soundtracks, video games, file-sharing, Internet radio, MySpace, YouTube, etc. People are listening to much more music, and it's not uncommon for a random track to get passed around or downloaded by millions in a weekend's time. But it's rare for a single song to capture the mass imagination long enough for it to translate into a real career for the artist. So why would a young, loud, aggressive rock band like Uncrowned, or their management, bank on that one demographically transcendent fluke?
"Their problem is, they're functioning in the old system of waiting to be swept off their feet by a label or some giganto marketing push that's going to propel them to stardom," says a record executive who has met with the band and asked not to be named. "The new paradigm calls for you to take care of your own niche first."
. . . It's finally a DIY world (bereft of political context, of course). Musicians across all genres are necessarily, obsessively business-minded; it's not just gimme-the-loot rappers anymore. Since the Internet can reach millions of consumers directly, even standard indie labels may soon be pass é -- managers and booking agents wield the influence. The money isn't in record sales (down 20 percent this year), but in diversifying your brand beyond hoodie/T-shirt merch -- just recently, press releases have hyped Beck's Sketchel shoulder bag, an All-American Rejects-designed Pepsi can, a skate-shoe partnership between Etnies and Chester Bennington's tattoo studio, and an Urban Outfitters indie-rock tour featuring the Ponys, Voxtrot, and Tapes 'N Tapes. Artists who have yet to release a record are pursuing publishing and sponsorship deals. One of the most talked-about indie bands of the past few years -- Clap Your Hands Say Yeah -- is perhaps more notable for its no-label business model than its music.
But the problem with a DIY approach is that you have to do it yourself. And that means a generation of artists who spend countless hours attempting to manage their own affairs and hustle every angle. But what if you're not Pete Wentz or Jay-Z or Arcade Fire? What if you can't trade on a punk or hip-hop or indie tradition? What if your numerous marketing ideas haven't quite panned out? What if you've got a killer MySpace page and consistently draw 300 people in clubs three states away and sell several thousand copies of your self-released record, but can barely pay the rent? What if you were a passing industry fancy a couple years back, but now that you're a far better band, interest has waned? What if you're so anxious to jump-start your career that you let your manager come hat in hand to the freaking guy from Hinder?