Why I Became An Artist Manager

When I was in my early teens, I was a huge fan of a local band that seemed to be on the precipice of making it big. I saw them play dozens of times, bought autographed posters and multiple copies of their EP, and got all starstruck when I met them after shows. But as they grew and gained more attention from the industry, they started making changes to their music and their branding. The little quirks and rough edges that made them stand out were smoothed over. By the time of their major-label debut, there wasn’t much left that I connected with. I watched as a band I loved turned into something I barely recognized, and broke my heart.

I didn’t know much about the music industry at the time, but it was clear to me that they were taking a huge risk. Many artists, understandably, think they will find more commercial success by eliminating any aspect of their music or image that someone might find objectionable. However, what is unobjectionable is also unremarkable. The path of least resistance is a crowded one, and without a big name backing and/or a lot of money, it’s nearly impossible to stand out from the pack. What pushes away one listener might draw in another, and the absolute worst thing any artist can be is boring. 

In the case of this particular artist, it worked out okay: their first single went platinum, they toured internationally, and released three albums on their major label. None of their songs charted particularly well, though, and they seemed to occupy that strange limbo of artists who had the opportunity and resources to become household names but, for whatever reason, never really caught on. They released two more albums independently before going on hiatus ten years after their first album’s release. I can’t say for sure that I would have done anything differently in their position, but I still wonder what could have been if they had chosen a different path. 

But my experience as a superfan turned ex-fan made me think about the nature of fandom and what makes someone fall in love with a song or a band. It’s different for everyone, I’m sure, but I think one of the key factors that makes an artist resonate with a fan is authenticity. When artists write what they think people want to hear, or concede too much creative control, or airbrush out all of their flaws and vulnerabilities, they are missing out on potential points of connection that can turn a casual listener into a superfan. These are fans who will not only buy merch and tickets: they are also a valuable marketing tool, creating buzz and building the fanbase at the ground level. Superfans are a huge asset that should not be underestimated. 

This incident also made me think about what role I wanted to play in the music industry. I knew by then that I had neither the talent nor the dedication to be an artist myself. But I loved learning about the music industry and figuring out the dynamics and negotiations that went on behind the scenes. I loved strategizing and theorizing about what makes an artist successful and why. And I would occasionally get this feeling, when I listened to a new artist or saw a band play: this overwhelming feeling of I want to be a part of this. I wanted to pinpoint what it was that made them special, protect it, and figure out how to share it with the world. I eventually figured out that managers are the ones who are in the best position to achieve that. 

So I decided that was what I wanted to do: be a superfan.