The music of the ages

Music, especially popular music, has an interesting relationship to age. Everyday we hear about young new voices, rabid teenage fans, and musicians that unfortunately joined the 27 Club.

There’s a persistent image of youthful rebellion associated with musicians, even when it’s wildly misplaced — for example, Mick Jagger, who in his 70s still manages to conjure up ghosts of his youth (or in opposition, Paul McCartney, who appears to have settled into comfortable nostalgia for the old days).

However, a look at the statistics sheds some interesting light on where creativity, and popularity lie in the music industry, and how that influences the relationship between artist and consumer.

In the beginning, there were the tweens

If we discount kids music, the first generation of empowered music consumers (and possibly the most rabid) are the tweens, whose screaming obsessions have driven the careers of their faves even as technology has moved from 45s to CDs to streaming. From Beatlemania to Beliebers to Billie Eilish, the enthusiasm of youth shows no sign of stopping. Now, their enthusiasm drives not only streaming revenues but an entire subset of social media that supports — and in some cases makes — the hits. Platforms like TikTok have become vehicles for promoting music, with Lil Nas X’s hit Old Town Road riding the #YeeHawChallenge meme to number 1.

Of course, every musician the tween set idolizes is, by necessity, older than them — but not too old. This buffer of 5–10 year age difference between artist and fan sets an almost aspirational sense of maturity — the artist is older, but is seen as being a peer, more or less. Now while tween and teen tastes can swing very wildly, the listening habits of this period are important to self-identity and growth — until suddenly the cool bands aren’t cool anymore. Without getting into what makes an artist popular with the tween-to-teen, age certainly comes into play — and when an artist gets to be too old? Well, then they’re not connecting to the kids anymore, are they?

So when is this crossover point? Very often at the artist’s point of maximum popularity. According to Billboard, the average Hot 100 act is 28.5 years old, tapering off rapidly after that. More interestingly, this age has been quite consistent over the decades since the 60s, with only the 80s topping 30 (30.8 years old) due to the last hits of the old guard such as Paul McCartney, Aretha Franklin and Stevie Wonder. So what happens after this tipping point? It’s a matter of self-identity.

The dangers of eye-levels

If we accept that music is a key aspect of teenage self-identity, and that popular young musicians are seen as a peer group, then we can start seeing why the crossover happens when it does. If the process of self-identification happens when the listener is a tween or teenager, and the age gap is 5–10 years, then a musician’s highest popularity hits when the consumer is 18–23 and in the flower of their youth — and prime intersection of disposable time and money. Though they are younger, these listeners would look up to the voices of the generation. As they get older, and head towards 30, eye level shifts to more of a “the hit musicians are my age”, but relevance doesn’t disappear.

It’s only after the crossover point that the consumers are forced to acknowledge that the hit music is made by people younger than them, and face the crisis of identity that comes with that. After all, accepting the newer music means accepting that there’s a new generation coming up — and that the golden days of youth might be fading. Suddenly, the music of the youth becomes the music of “my generation” and talk about “kids these days” begins to surface.

It’s not an easy place to be. Do we stick to our generation, and try to ignore what’s new? Or do we try to stay current, and risk being seen as a creepy try-hard? Either way, you can’t win. A baby boomer’s sentimental recollections of the glory days of Neil Young may be a bit wearying — but if he were singing the praises of Lil Nas X, it would scarcely be credible.

Die a hero or live long enough to become easy listening

Most consumers, like the artists they listen to, end up accepting their fate and aging with at least some grace. We listen to the music of our respective generations, but can’t avoid the popular music of today. In some ways, it’s the inevitable progression of life — the music of a rebellious act in its generation such as the Stones transforms over a half century into classic rock, the band itself into what is effectively an extremely highly-paid Rolling Stones tribute band, and the frontman immortalized as a “dancing grandpa”.

The fact that they’re still around to face this issue is a minor miracle, as statistically-speaking pro musicians die younger — 25 years younger, on average. It’s not surprising, really. The industry is known to be hard on the body and mind, and the lifestyle that accompanies it too. When the emotional impact of diminished relevance and disconnection from the spotlight and the financial impact that also brings is factored in, it’s not surprising — though it is somewhat depressing.

This doesn’t mean that older artists stop getting paid, of course — so long as their music is being played they should be compensated. However, with the exception of those who find a regular gig in Vegas, royalties tend to taper off as the current payment situation favors the most popular acts getting mainstream airplay. Utopia Music aims to help improve the payment structures for musicians of all ages and levels of popularity, assuring that they get paid for each and every play, Top Ten or not.

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