Art of Listening #15 with Keith Jopling
In this edition of The Art of Listening, Keith examines what happens when working-class voices fade from British music. Drawing on new research into class and access to the arts, he explores how shrinking opportunities are reshaping not just who becomes an artist, but the stories our songs get to tell. As algorithms amplify the already advantaged, he asks what we lose when lived experiences of struggle, community and resilience are pushed to the margins.
His book Body of Work: How the Album Outplayed the Algorithm and Survived Playlist Culture is out now.
What happens when we listen to less music by working class artists?
There has been a rumbling of concern in recent years that access to careers in the arts for those from working class backgrounds has gotten (even) harder. As a society, that’s a reversal in progress.
There is plenty of evidence. The recent report Class Ceiling, A Review of Working Class Participation in the Arts Across Greater Manchester is the most recent comprehensive study into an endemic situation in British culture. The report researched over 300 creatives across the region and the findings are suitably depressing. Including for example:
Only one-in-five of those researched said they personally knew anyone working in the arts when they were growing up
Less than half said they earned enough to make a living – many required second jobs to get by
Only 18% of those researched said they saw their lived experiences widely represented in the art form they practice
That last point got me thinking not just about the tragedy of the situation from an employment perspective, but also the direct consequences on the outcomes - i.e. the work being produced. The stories told, songs and poems written, and performances given up and down the UK, mostly reflect distinctly middle class concerns.
That’s incredibly sad, given the UK’s rich music culture having previously not only reflected the working class life, but actually making that life a cultural good of interest to the rest of the world. I mean The Beatles, of course. And The Jam. And The Smiths. And Oasis et. al.
There may be some irony to last summer’s sensational Oasis reunion tour, when you consider that the Gallagher brothers’ audiences for the working class hymn singalongs must surely (just be default of the price of entry, an average of £170 per ticket) have been composed in the majority, of the fairly well off. And most certainly, the poorest fans stood no chance of getting in. Shame, as the choruses could have been even louder.
The problem of course, starts way upstream of the workplace - in our arts-deprived school system. One headteacher in the Manchester study described a “deep sense of alienation among pupils, expressing sadness at how bad behaviour, suspensions and truancy were increasing” just because kids are being denied creative outlets as the curriculum doubles down on subjects for “employability”. This is a direct quote: “It’s the worst I can remember. If they were encouraged to do more creative subjects, it would be better for the country”.
And outside the schools, it's the same issue for community services. The demise of youth clubs and scout huts, the reduction in rehearsal spaces, the closure of smaller arts & music venues. The decay and homogenisation of the UK high streets. With a reduction in enablers, there are less working class inputs into the arts. Subsequently, the outcomes - i.e. the songs, are affected thus:
Underprivileged stories and perspectives get diminished, i.e. economic struggle, community life, denial of opportunity, even protest and anarchy. No band from a wealthy background is going to write “A Town Called Malice”, because apart from anything else, they don’t run for the bus or shop in the co-op.
Privileged stories are emphasized, i.e. existential struggle, family tensions, relationships (good or bad), money (i.e. having some) and mental health. Experiences that might feel more universal because they’re generalized, but are not specific to the struggle of life from the bottom layer upwards, where such themes are secondary to the undercurrent of putting food on the table and keeping a roof over your head. Instead of wickedly funny gallows humour, we get irony.
With our music discovery systems, we know that what’s most popular is then simply amplified by the system. Algorithms boost what already gets traction and reinforce listener habits. This may mean that working-class artists without playlist support or the means to make TikTok videos cannot get discovered and so there is a downward spiral of upwardly mobile themes and stories. Over time, our collective cultural imagination gets narrower and we lose one of the ways society understands class, work, hardship, and resilience. We may even start to forget the working class even exists at all.
The irony is, the economic success of working class bands has been phenomenal. Working class musicians and bands have gone on to create a bigger economic multiple for the UK than most well-educated executives and entrepreneurs. In the 80s, bands from all corners of England got together on estates and in the suburbs, funded by the state by way of being “on the dole”. They could rock up and rehearse in spaces for virtually nothing, and get (paid) gigs at the bottom tier of the live circuit. But once bands like Duran Duran, Depeche Mode and Def Leppard made it big all over the world, they effectively became mid-sized UK PLCs. How’s that for ROI? In the 90s, Glasgow band Belle & Sebastian actually formed by way of a government apprenticeship scheme. They are still going strong 30 years later.
Working-class music scenes are often built on local venues, DIY culture, grassroots support. In other words, they form out of communities. When listeners disengage, those scenes lose audiences, sustainability, and the intergenerational culture that keeps them alive. We see this very much through the disintegration of small independent music venues, but there are many other signs too.
Despite this, we still have exceptions of course. Sam Fender, Sleaford Mods, The Reytons. But, they do seem like exceptions, these days. Lyrically, these bands can still make their mark, but their voices seem dangerously in the minority. It’s not quite the ubiquitous cultural impact of The Smiths “Heaven Knows I’m Miserable Now” (1984) in which Morrissey confessed “I was looking for a job and then I found a job” (you know the rest). Bleak but hilarious, it glamourized working class misery, but that was simply a way of making everybody know that working class misery is actually a thing.
Learn more about Keith Jopling:
Keith is a music strategist, advisor, consultant, writer and mentor. In 2021 he started the music podcast The Art of Longevity, featured under Spotify’s “must listen” music podcasts and on all other platforms. The archive sits on his music curation site The Song Sommelier.
Keith has worked with the boardrooms of labels, streaming services, start-ups and investors. He has held previous roles with Sony Music, Spotify, EMI and the BPI. Most recently he was Consulting Director at boutique music agency MIDiA Research (2019-2024) and began his career in music as Research Director at global trade body IFPI (2000-2006).
As an educator, he has lectured in music business, strategy and innovation at Henley Business School, NYU, BIMM, ACM, Belmont, Syracuse, Westminster and the University of Krems, Austria.