The lost voices of the music industry
Disabled, chronically ill and neurodivergent artists are facing increasing barriers to a sustainable long-term career. Something needs to change.
This piece is published in partnership with The Harmony Dialogue - a project created by Daniel Leckerman with the aim of promoting accessibility within the music sector and across the creative industries. The mission is to amplify the voices of disabled, neurodivergent, d/Deaf, and chronically ill artists, collaborate on impactful content for social media and facilitate workshops. The Harmony Dialogue strives to foster honest conversations, reduce stigma, and gather insightful resources about the industry’s landscape. You can follow the project’s output at https://www.instagram.com/theharmonydialogue/
“The biggest thing has been working out how to be an artist,” read one of the first quotes I received earlier this year after requesting anonymous contributions for a piece I was writing on the barriers facing disabled, chronically ill and neurodivergent musicians trying to develop their careers.
It was a statement which immediately resonated with me.
From the moment I dropped out of school at 14 years of age due to a combination of ill health and an inability to cope with the environment, everything changed for me. My life became a case of standing on the outside, looking in. Everything was either a catch-up game or a challenge to find ways of adaptation. From my academic knowledge to my social skills and everything in between, I became my own teacher. Except this teacher didn’t arrive at her position through years of study or stand at the front of the class with authority. She was the same age as the pupil.
I should have given myself a truck-load of grace for this alone, but in an ableist world I unknowingly internalised a truck-load of shame, instead. Rather than thinking of myself as a kid doing what she could to make the best of her situation and progress at her own pace on her own terms, I admonished myself for every failure to keep up with an able-bodied society. Put pressure on myself to smash through targets and prove everyone wrong, pushing my body and mind into spaces it didn’t fit. The aim was always to appear healthy. To make the school drop-out a thing of the past, and meet my peers at every step, sprinting alongside them as they walked. This way, I would surely cure my shame and reassure what I had convinced myself were concerned parents (a concern I felt personal guilt for) that I could ‘stand on my own two feet’ and they didn’t have to ‘worry’ about me.
How on earth the music career, which I had been secretly dreaming of since I was a child, would quite fit into this entire journey was a mystery which would reveal itself gradually over time. Time in which a myriad of able-bodied teenagers and early twenty-somethings were instead studying music courses, learning about the business side of the industry, playing in different bands as they discovered their sound and cut their teeth on the live circuit, visiting studios and songwriting camps, networking, accessing early-career opportunities, attending meetings, being pursued by management and signing development deals.
My time, instead, was spent building my self esteem and confidence, processing my trauma, educating myself and finding ways to adapt the industry to my life until I felt comfortable enough to step into it.
My story - though unique to myself - is one of thousands of similar tales from disabled musicians which for too long have remained unheard. How is it fair that after battling through so many challenges and finally finding ways to champion ourselves and chart the path forward in our chosen careers, we find ourselves at best underestimated or unintentionally penalised for our DIY or ‘unconventional’ working practises, and at worst looked down upon for being too old, too ‘different’ or unmarketable?
Since I became a full-time musician in 2018, I have grown increasingly frustrated with the experience of being chronically ill in the music industry, but found it difficult to speak up about. I don’t want my creative brand to be perceived as one of a perpetually-downtrodden disabled artist, desperate for funds and scrambling to break through. And though they are of course a huge part of my daily life and a great influence on my work, I want to emphasise my art over my conditions.
It is through becoming involved with the invaluable charity Attitude is Everything, including taking part in their ‘Future Leaders’ programme, that I have gained more confidence to talk openly about my experiences and to embrace the disabled part of my identity (although I still don’t often use the word). It is also through becoming connected with a number of other disabled artists - all of immense talent - who are struggling in similar ways, that I have become determined to speak up about it. Because too much music is getting lost, and too many careers are fading away, when they could flourish with the right support.
“I physically can’t go out touring or travelling a lot,” the artist quoted at the beginning of the piece continued. “And making social media content regularly is really hard to do when you're struggling with health issues. Some of the content trends aren't suitable for me like running and walking.”
Over the last two decades, we have been sold an idealised version of a democratised music industry, in which anyone can get ahead if they have good music and the right level of commitment. But a cursory glance at industry publications such as Music Week - which often shed light on the teams and strategy behind emerging artists - depicts a world in which disabled artists can rarely compete.
“2025 is going to be Lola’s year,” said the International Marketing President of Island Records in a recent article on the development of Lola Young - whose several years signed to the label are now beginning to pay off with breakthrough hits such as Messy and Conceited - “She started it off in Australia and has already been to the US and is about to embark on a European tour before she even gets to the festival season, in which she has some huge moments including a performance at Coachella.” Most spotlighted industry success stories read similarly and highlight the prolific nature of marketing material, personal appearances and live performances across multiple locations, leaving disabled artists who are unable to manage that level of physical and mental exertion alienated and confused. Where do they start, and is it even worth starting at all? What was sold as the great leveller - social media - is rapidly becoming a world of demanding algorithms with diminishing returns. So can they still make it work?
The pressure and expectations of such major label life, coupled with factors including distrust in authority through past experiences, often influences disabled musicians to take a more independent, DIY route. And even then, it can be hard to find collaborators from studio to stage and in between who respect your access needs and understand your methods of working. There are unexpected positives that come from having to be resourceful - many of us acquire useful skills across a multitude of discipline. But, as you would expect, there are also many downsides. Juggling so many tasks can become overwhelming and difficult to maintain, especially when you have a fluctuating condition like myself, and everything takes much longer. Being an independent artist or band is also becoming increasingly more expensive, and there is a widespread lack of awareness of just how many disabled people in general, let alone creatives, are struggling financially.
“Sometimes I feel all that is focused on is my disability and advocacy, and not my music”
In a recent Insight Report on Disabled Musicians, using data taken from the Musicians Census and published by the Musicians Union, it was found that “73% of all disabled respondents reported that they are not in receipt of any state benefits, tax credits or support, which alongside a disability pay gap and high rates of experiencing cost-related career barriers paints a picture of multi-faceted financial challenges for disabled musicians to work in the music industry.” It was also found that “22% of all disabled musicians are in debt, rising to 27% for mental health/neurodivergent musicians,” and “Not being able to make a sustainable income is the most highly reported barrier at 51%, reflecting the financial issues disabled musicians face.” When asked more specifically about their financial barriers, the report found those to be, “no clear routes to progression (41%), the costs associated with equipment (37%), transport (31%, and socioeconomic background (21%).”
This was reflected in my own correspondence with fellow disabled musicians. “One thing that potentially holds me back is the location of where I am and the minimal amount of connections there are to make,” said one. It would require a whole separate article to list the issues associated with the music industry’s intense focus on London, which can cost artists from around the country considerable - and sometimes unsustainable or even unattainable - amounts of money to travel to and from. Though disabled musicians may often choose to take a DIY route, it does not stop them from desiring certain levels of breakthrough, recognition or performance milestones. But to access these, more often than not, requires a level of engagement with the scene and various professionals and organisations in London and (to a lesser extent) other big cities. But presence within these spaces is made much more difficult when there is a clear advantage for those who can afford to live, work or travel there on a regular basis. And finding the right people to contact in the first place is becoming increasingly difficult with less effective search engines swamped with AI.
Two artists also shared their difficulties in networking, with one remarking, “Asperger’s and an autoimmune condition makes networking extremely tiring. All of the events are on so late and revolve around drinking.” Another added, “Other neurodivergent musicians like myself don’t always have the confidence to speak to others and sometimes it means we miss out on opportunities that we equally deserve.” This also echoes some of my own experiences, in which I have felt neglected due to the lack of opportunities and events on offer in my postcode and often felt as though I have taken much longer to acquire industry knowledge than my peers - especially those who are university educated. I have, as of the time of writing, been to London only four times. 2 of them were general trips, and two were courtesy of my involvement with the charity Attitude is Everything, who work tirelessly to improve accessibility within the music industry. The last train ticket I purchased (luckily re-imbursed by the charity) cost over £80 for a single, super-off-peak open return.
One solution to the financial problems and access barriers is to apply for funding. Grants are regularly offered by the likes of Help Musicians, PRS, Youth Music and The Arts Council amongst others, and if successful they are invaluable springboards to new opportunities, audiences and creative work. But in research carried out by Attitude is Everything’s Next Stage network in 2023, they found that only 48% of participants felt confident in applying for financial funding. Depending on whether or not you have applied for such grants yourself, you may not know that many successful applicants hire specialised grant writers to complete their applications for them based on information they provide about their proposed project. Such people often have a high success rate, and are seen as a good investment. As you can probably tell - this is another barrier for disabled artists, with one telling Next Stage, “People who specialise in writing funding applications charge a lot of money for their services. I can’t afford this. I avoid applying unless it is necessary.” I have personally applied for 15 different funding grants, and counting. All of them were rejected, but many came close to making the cut and often had good feedback. I have many friends who have received funding, and the common difference between them and myself is always similar - they do not record at home, and hire professionals to produce and mix their work. I cannot state with any certainty that this preference is intentional - in fact, I have asked the question at funding workshops, and the answer is always that no candidate who has a home studio setup or carries out most of their own production or mixing work is taken less seriously than any other candidate, but when the experience keeps repeating itself, and the answer is so often ‘it was just a very competitive field and we preferred other applications’, it is hard to believe it is never a factor - however unintended - in decisions.
Many music-based grants for non-classical artists are also designed to facilitate the creation and performance of new work, rather than to fund expensive equipment or marketing campaigns - but without the right equipment to create your own work on your own terms, and a means to promote it, how are we supposed to get heard? When the label system rarely supports us, the industry shuts us out, and the funding system doesn’t cater to our needs, we get discarded.
But our work is as vital as anyone else's - our experiences worthy of sharing. I fear that for decades our voices have been silenced and our empowerment denied. “Sometimes I feel all that is focused on is my disability and advocacy, and not my music,” one participant said to Next Stage. “I would like to be able to feel my music is significant enough for press by itself but often it is not given the same weight as my disability.” Too often we are allowed only to ‘be disabled’. To speak loudly about our experience and educate others who wish to feel better about their efforts to increase inclusivity within their organisations, but only to create art for enjoyment, socialisation and self esteem. Why not as our business, or our living? Why not us?
I asked for disabled artists to share some ideas for the support that would benefit them the most to take the next steps in their careers. “Having strategy or management support to figure out what a realistic and sustainable artist career looks like for me,” one said. “There are ways to do it, but you don't always know what the possibilities are until you speak to someone who's done it. It's not a one size fits all. I love hearing from other artists that have carved out their own path in the industry, especially those experiencing similar challenges.” Another shared their desire for other musicians to develop a “better understanding of disabilities” and to become “more accommodating and compassionate where necessary.” I wish it wasn’t our job to educate others, but the reality is that until you experience life on the other side, it’s likely you rarely think about the accessibility of the tasks you carry out and the spaces you visit and inhabit from day to day. I try to be mindful of that where I can, but we rely on our input being more than words heard empathetically. We need action, or our music and our stories will cease to exist within a wider context. It is a difficult path to walk alone, not knowing if you will ever turn a corner and find a way to live sustainably whilst doing the job you have always loved. The Musicians Union report I referenced earlier stated, “Almost 2 in 5 (39%) disabled musicians reported that their physical wellbeing is negative, and a similar proportion (43%) reported that their mental wellbeing is negative. Amongst disabled musicians who reported negative or extremely negative physical wellbeing, only two thirds said it was likely they would still be working in music in 5 years’ time.” We need to make some positive changes urgently or more of our work and contributions will be erased.
“Every time I achieve something, big or small, I think "I'm still here, I'm doing it.”
I know there are a certain subset of people who read pieces like this one, and respond with a suggestion that we give up and accept this industry is not for us. We would, after all, be much happier and healthier with another job with more consistent pay, disability guidelines in place, sick pay and healthcare benefits. Or perhaps just being given the space to be ill, whilst being properly supported by institutions in place to look after us (one can dream). But that isn’t the point. The arts should be accessible to everybody, and this country’s musical output - one which contributed £7.6 billion to the economy in 2023 alone, according to a report from UK Music - should be a rich tapestry of experiences woven together, each holding their own unique space. Our stubborn refusal to leave this industry, to have our voices silenced and fight through the challenges to discover a different future is our protest. Our resistance. I have to believe that things will change, otherwise to give up now would be a waste of the time I have poured in to date.
Because I was determined to finish this piece on a more positive note, I asked the disabled artists I spoke to for some areas they are often underestimated in. “my ability to be able to and keep continuing to strive for opportunities despite the current barriers that other musicians like myself face,“ said one. “I have a very deep well of resilience, determination, and persistence,” said another. “It might take me longer to reach a particular goal than other folks in the industry. I might have to get really creative and try to work out different ways of doing things. I might have to accept downtime when my health's not good. And yet - here I am. Every time I achieve something, big or small, I think "I'm still here, I'm doing it". I'm forever grateful for that.”
We are all still here, showing up. So, music industry - when are you going to show up for us?
I would welcome your sharing of this newsletter, and any contact from thriving disabled artists, or those within the industry who are working with disabled artists and providing them with a tailored platform and adequate support to achieve their goals. There has to be a way forward, and I’d love to write a positive part 2 and spotlight some of these stories.
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Excellent work, emzae