Music Is Dying, But Art Can Save It!

When I was in New York, I always loved venturing to the Upper West Side of Manhattan. I could walk for hours. My art studio was just a few subway stops away, right at the border of Long Island City in Queens. As soon as I arrived at Penn Station, it was game on.

New York is teeming with musicians. At Penn Station, you'll see them drumming on empty paint buckets, singing, and dancing around; tourists snap pictures, glance at social media accounts scrawled on cardboard, and hop onto their next train.

One day, at the corner of 7th Avenue and West 50th Street, the sweet sound of a saxophone caught my ear. This cat was performing in front of a French bank—ironic since I'm a French artist.

I moved closer to soak in more of the melody; I sensed something was off. He wasn't happy. After a brief introduction and trivialities, I asked him:

"How's musician life treating you in New York?"

"Lionel, I've invested so much in this saxophone; it cost me $14,000, and people can't even spare $5," he replied.

"It's like nobody cares anymore," he added, visibly discouraged.

This encounter made me realize how blessed I was to be a painter. Transactions in the art industry are straightforward: clients see something they like, they invest in it, and I ship it. It's tangible—it’s there, and they can own it. It’s even better when NO gallery is involved; you and Uncle Sam split the proceeds.

My fellow artists and musicians often work in groups. The record label, manager, publisher, streaming platform, and distributor all take a cut. Benn Jordan explains it very well in one of his latest YouTube videos.

Or...a famous music producer may offer you some quick cash to ghostwrite a song that he knows will go platinum. Then you start wondering where your publishing royalties and rights went when all the cameras are on him, and he's the one dancing in all the videos. When the devil approaches you in your time of need, it does so in a most enticing guise.

Music is dying. An epidemic of exploitation has long plagued the music industry. I'm relieved that people have started recognizing it and spotlighting the issue. Katt Williams said in January, "All the lies will be exposed in 2024." But I digress. This is another story I will write for another day.

Eighty percent of my work is business-related. The rest is pure creation. I am fortunate to have a relentless, vivid imagination and endless inspiration. I execute with a precise vision every time I approach the canvas.

The glory days of guitars, saxophones, and trumpets may fade into the past. I was lucky to witness the prime era of smooth jazz, with Kenny G, Grover Washington, Chris Botti, and all those cats on VHS and CDs in my father's living room next to the stereo system, as close as I could be.

Nowadays, music producers are teenagers; they tap away on their computers, use Fruity Loops, and hit (laptop) keys like a video game. No piano keys are involved. They churn out ten beats in less than an hour and collect their cash.

Yet, we witness the real struggle and tears when a singer takes the stage to receive her/his first Grammy. It's a colossal understatement when they tell you they have been through a lot.

The saxophone player is still playing in front of this bank. You and I see it as a treasure to protect; others might see him like a hawk in the sky watching prey.

Because I paint music, I constantly find ways to distribute my work. The possibilities are limitless: offices, songwriting rooms, above a piano, or in a music studio lobby—you name it. I find it amusing when I hear artists claim that art will sell itself or that one should approach the canvas as free as a bird.

The tragic mistake musicians make is thinking that music and visuals are separate entities. However, when they curate the album's track list, it must follow a strict narrative; this indicates a story. When they talk to the engineer, they always speak in colors. Art inspires during the music-making process, not afterward. So why are there no art and no visual cues in music studios? I only see sound panels.

My favorite thing to do is invite musicians to my studio, put a musical instrument in front of them, and see what they can create in an artsy environment. We record it because I produce music and know my way around music recording software (Cubase, Logic Pro, Reason).

Another example is Beyoncé’s latest album promotion at the Guggenheim Museum a few days ago. When I saw it, I knew it was genius. This project will be cherished across generations; only art can propel talent into such a stratosphere. And as a businesswoman, she knows it.

I listened to her latest album, and I was floored. What she did was BOLD. Did Country music need that infusion of R&B, Blues, and Gospel to shake things up and take Texas by storm? Absolutely. This is more than Country.

Back in 2013, Jay-Z performed at New York Pace art gallery for six hours...six goddamn hours, and last year, the Brooklyn Art Museum dedicated an entire exhibition/section to him—another businessman.

Beyoncé and Jay-Z infused their music with art so profoundly that it became a luxury item.

So why don't more artists in the industry act differently? Maybe they believe such ventures are reserved for the elite.

Musicians have long been confined to archaic systems/mechanisms and record labels with outdated practices. Yet, nothing comes closer to human emotions and feelings than music. When people from various backgrounds converge in one industry where emotions are worn on the sleeve, you open a Pandora’s box of potential deviance.

The closest neighbors to music are art and fashion.

Today, many musicians don't own their publishing, and many music producers aren't paid. Going independent is the only viable path. The only way for musicians to survive is to perform gig after gig. At what cost?

Kevin Lewandowski from Discogs recently highlighted the high sales of vinyl records at all times. In this context, the music album cover is a piece of art.

Creating music is akin to a painting process. The saxophone player I met would partner with a visual artist and play at an art exhibition to connect with the clientele who can afford his instrument.

Musicians invest in my artwork not just because it's beautiful or I'm talented (though that might play a role) but primarily because they believe in the power of daily inspiration. It's like a transfer of energy. I draw from their music, and in turn, they are fueled by my visuals.

One of my favorite books, "1000 Record Covers," sits prominently in my collection, symbolizing the enduring connection between music and art.

The next step for me is animation. I love to tell stories beyond the canvas to break free from this square.

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Lionel Thomas is a painter of music, musician, and storyteller. France-born and international artist, he brings a colorful perspective and injects new life into the art world with his vibrant works.

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