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Telegraph
07-07-2025
- Entertainment
- Telegraph
Oasis represent a self-confidence that is all but extinct in Britain today
Nostalgia, as they say, is a helluva drug. It is also freely available and widely consumed, especially now, as the Oasis concerts refill the air with an irresistible 1990s snarl. Who would begrudge anyone living their high old times at the moment? Certainly not me. There is no point, for instance, in arguing about whether Oasis are as good as they were 'back in the day' (as every hanger-on puts it). The Oasis reunion is selling a vibe that people clearly want to buy, even at ridiculous prices. The vibe is about something direct and uncomplicated, music from a simpler age. Or that is how many view the 1990s. Mass singalongs, blokey swagger, working-class lads on the rampage. Those, apparently, were the days. 'Please don't put your life in the hands/Of a rock'n'roll band/Who'll throw it all away' as the lyrics of Don't Look Back in Anger go. But they didn't throw it all away, did they? They cashed it in. Accompanying this tour are ads for sportswear. But no one minds about that kind of shameless commercialism when it comes to Oasis. In fact, it seems ridiculously purist to even think about it – even though so many working-class kids cannot get a break or earn any kind of living in the arts. The point is that Oasis broke through. This is about the joy of them. They were not grateful for their success – they owned it. Nothing like them could happen today. It's all different now. The same thought occurs watching the BBC's recent documentaries on Live Aid, which are full of incredible footage. It's 40 years since Bob Geldof and Midge Ure staged the huge concerts in Wembley and Philadelphia. This was an appeal for money for famine-stricken Ethiopia. Such a thing seems unimaginable these days. Unimaginable too, is Live 8, the string of benefit concerts that took place in the G8 countries and South Africa 20 years ago to coincide with the G8 summit being held at Gleneagles, Scotland. In retrospect, all of these concerts were remarkable in a number of ways. Geldof's absolute drive to do something after seeing the pictures of fly-ridden, starving children was immense. This drive seemed to cut through swathes of naysayers, of politicians, of cynics. The idea that back then we failed to see that a bunch of white-saviour pop stars trying to save famine-stricken Africans could possibly be iffy, paternalistic and politically naive is not true. There was always suspicion as well as acclaim around Live Aid. Geldof and, later on, Bono were educating themselves along the way. There was always a tension between pure emotion – Billy Connolly weeping in the studio at the images of dying children that David Bowie insisted be shown during his set – and what happened on the ground. Did the aid go to the people who needed it? Was the money raised being used by the Ethiopian former dictator Mengistu Haile Mariam to buy weapons from the Russians for his deadly civil war? The impulse to give and the righteousness of the cause remain admirable. The hard politics of interfering in a country that is crushing its own people are immensely complicated. Humanitarian aid groups such as Live Aid were accused by Médecins Sans Frontières of actually fuelling the crisis and the slaughter of the civil war. Geldof knew this and insists it was better to do something than not and it's hard not to agree. The older I get, the less cynical I become about such issues. All the criticisms thrown at Geldof would be amplified today. Detractors now would note there were not enough black artists in his line-ups. Does that diminish what he's done? Not when he has explained this by saying he simply wanted the biggest artists he could get, and there was no Stormzy in those days, no 'diversity hires'. Thankfully, back then, social media did not exist to slag off every politically incorrect move that Geldof made in his quest to get as much money as possible. Belief and pragmatism could win the day. Any nostalgia we may have for those times is surely for an era in which people could put aside 'the narcissism of small differences' (to use a phrase from Freud) for a larger goal. We are nostalgic for the kind of idealism this represents, whether it's Live Aid's desire to help those worse off than ourselves, or Oasis's unbridled, rebellious confidence. Such idealism now seems to be a thing of the past. The world we live in now is full of worries about the advance of AI, climate change, perpetual war. It is an anxious place to be and I am so tired of being told how terrible everything is. So who can blame those bouncing to Oasis, in communal bliss, escaping into the analogue times, the pre-cancellation times? When being mouthy and hedonistic was not a sin, and we were living for cigarettes and alcohol. Living forever. I want to Be Here Now. To live in the present, not to locate optimism squarely in the past. Oasis and the Live Aid nostalgia have made me realise how dependent we all are on each other and reminded me of the stoicism of our great country.
Yahoo
06-07-2025
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
In already precarious industry, US musicians struggle for health care
In 2019, American musician Jon Dee Graham suffered a heart attack that left him "dead" for several minutes -- a scare that inspired his album, "Only Dead For a Little While." Eighteen months later he had a stroke. And now, the 66-year-old is facing his biggest health challenge yet -- and like most musicians, he's underinsured. Graham suffered an infection following spinal surgery that's developed into sepsis, and his son said he needs intravenous antibiotic treatments twice daily. But because his treatment is at home, William Harries-Graham said Medicare -- the US federal health program that insures elder adults -- won't cover his father. Harries-Graham said the hospital demanded payment upfront in the "thousands of dollars." The artist "fighting for his life" couldn't afford it, and recently launched a campaign to sell his drawings, a hobby that has become a means of survival. Graham's story is not uncommon: Many musicians confront the same health insurance nightmares all Americans do, navigating a labyrinthian system rife with out-of-pocket costs. But musicians are gig workers, which makes it even harder. Most working artists aren't rich and have variable income, in a cutthroat industry where employer-subsidized insurance for musicians is rare. Pop phenom Chappell Roan underscored the issue on one of music's biggest platforms earlier this year at the Grammys, calling out record labels for not insuring their artists in front of industry heavyweights as she accepted the prize for Best New Artist. Roan said she herself was dropped from her label and went uninsured for a time: "It was devastating to feel so committed to my art and feel so betrayed by the system and dehumanized," she said onstage. "Record labels need to treat their artists as valuable employees with a livable wage and health insurance and protection." - 'Just a patch' - About a month after Roan's statement, glam punk pioneer David Johansen died at 75 years old. His death came just weeks after he had started a GoFundMe to support his cancer treatment. In 2024, Matthew Sweet, the 1990s-era alt rocker, suffered a stroke while on tour. He was uninsured, so his management created a similar online crowdsourcing fundraiser. It's raised more than $640,000 to date to support his long-term recovery. But such crowdsourcing is a stop-gap, said Tatum Hauck-Allsep, founder and CEO of the Nashville-based Music Health Alliance that helps musicians negotiate medical bills. "In some cases, things like a GoFundMe is a great resource, but in other cases, it's just a patch. We want to find a long-term solution," Hauck-Allsep told AFP. She applauded Roan for highlighting the issue, but said insurance from record labels isn't necessarily what artists want, because it could mean they need to become employees, rather than independent artists. Still, "there should be an easier pathway to health care access," she said. Bruce Iglauer, head of the blues label Alligator Records, echoed Hauck-Allsep's point, saying that artists are self-employed. "We guarantee recording budgets and royalty rates, but have no input into, or knowledge of, what other income the artists are making," Iglauer said. "They are not getting weekly paychecks from us." And smaller labels say increasingly thin margins would make providing insurance impossible: "The costs of manufacturing have gone up, physical sales have gone down. Streaming sales pay paltry sums," said Kenn Goodman, founder and CEO of Chicago-based indie record label Pravda Records. "It's just not financially feasible," he added. "I wish it was." - 'Terrifying' - Many US musicians get health care through the Barack Obama-era Affordable Care Act -- but that coverage is under threat by the Donald Trump administration, which is vying to complicate health care access, and perhaps eventually scrap the system altogether. That would be a "disaster," said Paul Scott, director of the Healthcare Alliance for Austin Musicians, a non-profit that helps about 3,200 musicians a year in Texas get signed up for coverage under the government health care plan. Many ACA plans still don't come cheap, but it's made a huge difference for access, he said. Jettisoning the ACA would likely mean increased prices that would prompt a lot of artists to "drop their health insurance," Scott said. "And that will be a hit to our safety net hospitals and charity care." As for Graham, selling his sketches has successfully funded his first few weeks of treatment. But his son doesn't know if that will be enough. And Harries-Graham worries about those who can't find fundraising support thanks to their fame. "I don't know what someone else would have done," he said. "They would have been yet another person who goes into severe medical debt." "That is terrifying." str/mdo/jgc
France 24
06-07-2025
- Entertainment
- France 24
In already precarious industry, US musicians struggle for health care
Eighteen months later he had a stroke. And now, the 66-year-old is facing his biggest health challenge yet -- and like most musicians, he's underinsured. Graham suffered an infection following spinal surgery that's developed into sepsis, and his son said he needs intravenous antibiotic treatments twice daily. But because his treatment is at home, William Harries-Graham said Medicare -- the US federal health program that insures elder adults -- won't cover his father. Harries-Graham said the hospital demanded payment upfront in the "thousands of dollars." The artist "fighting for his life" couldn't afford it, and recently launched a campaign to sell his drawings, a hobby that has become a means of survival. Graham's story is not uncommon: Many musicians confront the same health insurance nightmares all Americans do, navigating a labyrinthian system rife with out-of-pocket costs. But musicians are gig workers, which makes it even harder. Most working artists aren't rich and have variable income, in a cutthroat industry where employer-subsidized insurance for musicians is rare. Pop phenom Chappell Roan underscored the issue on one of music's biggest platforms earlier this year at the Grammys, calling out record labels for not insuring their artists in front of industry heavyweights as she accepted the prize for Best New Artist. Roan said she herself was dropped from her label and went uninsured for a time: "It was devastating to feel so committed to my art and feel so betrayed by the system and dehumanized," she said onstage. "Record labels need to treat their artists as valuable employees with a livable wage and health insurance and protection." 'Just a patch' About a month after Roan's statement, glam punk pioneer David Johansen died at 75 years old. His death came just weeks after he had started a GoFundMe to support his cancer treatment. In 2024, Matthew Sweet, the 1990s-era alt rocker, suffered a stroke while on tour. He was uninsured, so his management created a similar online crowdsourcing fundraiser. It's raised more than $640,000 to date to support his long-term recovery. But such crowdsourcing is a stop-gap, said Tatum Hauck-Allsep, founder and CEO of the Nashville-based Music Health Alliance that helps musicians negotiate medical bills. "In some cases, things like a GoFundMe is a great resource, but in other cases, it's just a patch. We want to find a long-term solution," Hauck-Allsep told AFP. She applauded Roan for highlighting the issue, but said insurance from record labels isn't necessarily what artists want, because it could mean they need to become employees, rather than independent artists. Still, "there should be an easier pathway to health care access," she said. Bruce Iglauer, head of the blues label Alligator Records, echoed Hauck-Allsep's point, saying that artists are self-employed. "We guarantee recording budgets and royalty rates, but have no input into, or knowledge of, what other income the artists are making," Iglauer said. "They are not getting weekly paychecks from us." And smaller labels say increasingly thin margins would make providing insurance impossible: "The costs of manufacturing have gone up, physical sales have gone down. Streaming sales pay paltry sums," said Kenn Goodman, founder and CEO of Chicago-based indie record label Pravda Records. "It's just not financially feasible," he added. "I wish it was." 'Terrifying' Many US musicians get health care through the Barack Obama-era Affordable Care Act -- but that coverage is under threat by the Donald Trump administration, which is vying to complicate health care access, and perhaps eventually scrap the system altogether. That would be a "disaster," said Paul Scott, director of the Healthcare Alliance for Austin Musicians, a non-profit that helps about 3,200 musicians a year in Texas get signed up for coverage under the government health care plan. Many ACA plans still don't come cheap, but it's made a huge difference for access, he said. Jettisoning the ACA would likely mean increased prices that would prompt a lot of artists to "drop their health insurance," Scott said. "And that will be a hit to our safety net hospitals and charity care." As for Graham, selling his sketches has successfully funded his first few weeks of treatment. But his son doesn't know if that will be enough. And Harries-Graham worries about those who can't find fundraising support thanks to their fame. "I don't know what someone else would have done," he said. "They would have been yet another person who goes into severe medical debt." © 2025 AFP
Yahoo
06-07-2025
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
In already precarious industry, US musicians struggle for health care
In 2019, American musician Jon Dee Graham suffered a heart attack that left him "dead" for several minutes -- a scare that inspired his album, "Only Dead For a Little While." Eighteen months later he had a stroke. And now, the 66-year-old is facing his biggest health challenge yet -- and like most musicians, he's underinsured. Graham suffered an infection following spinal surgery that's developed into sepsis, and his son said he needs intravenous antibiotic treatments twice daily. But because his treatment is at home, William Harries-Graham said Medicare -- the US federal health program that insures elder adults -- won't cover his father. Harries-Graham said the hospital demanded payment upfront in the "thousands of dollars." The artist "fighting for his life" couldn't afford it, and recently launched a campaign to sell his drawings, a hobby that has become a means of survival. Graham's story is not uncommon: Many musicians confront the same health insurance nightmares all Americans do, navigating a labyrinthian system rife with out-of-pocket costs. But musicians are gig workers, which makes it even harder. Most working artists aren't rich and have variable income, in a cutthroat industry where employer-subsidized insurance for musicians is rare. Pop phenom Chappell Roan underscored the issue on one of music's biggest platforms earlier this year at the Grammys, calling out record labels for not insuring their artists in front of industry heavyweights as she accepted the prize for Best New Artist. Roan said she herself was dropped from her label and went uninsured for a time: "It was devastating to feel so committed to my art and feel so betrayed by the system and dehumanized," she said onstage. "Record labels need to treat their artists as valuable employees with a livable wage and health insurance and protection." - 'Just a patch' - About a month after Roan's statement, glam punk pioneer David Johansen died at 75 years old. His death came just weeks after he had started a GoFundMe to support his cancer treatment. In 2024, Matthew Sweet, the 1990s-era alt rocker, suffered a stroke while on tour. He was uninsured, so his management created a similar online crowdsourcing fundraiser. It's raised more than $640,000 to date to support his long-term recovery. But such crowdsourcing is a stop-gap, said Tatum Hauck-Allsep, founder and CEO of the Nashville-based Music Health Alliance that helps musicians negotiate medical bills. "In some cases, things like a GoFundMe is a great resource, but in other cases, it's just a patch. We want to find a long-term solution," Hauck-Allsep told AFP. She applauded Roan for highlighting the issue, but said insurance from record labels isn't necessarily what artists want, because it could mean they need to become employees, rather than independent artists. Still, "there should be an easier pathway to health care access," she said. Bruce Iglauer, head of the blues label Alligator Records, echoed Hauck-Allsep's point, saying that artists are self-employed. "We guarantee recording budgets and royalty rates, but have no input into, or knowledge of, what other income the artists are making," Iglauer said. "They are not getting weekly paychecks from us." And smaller labels say increasingly thin margins would make providing insurance impossible: "The costs of manufacturing have gone up, physical sales have gone down. Streaming sales pay paltry sums," said Kenn Goodman, founder and CEO of Chicago-based indie record label Pravda Records. "It's just not financially feasible," he added. "I wish it was." - 'Terrifying' - Many US musicians get health care through the Barack Obama-era Affordable Care Act -- but that coverage is under threat by the Donald Trump administration, which is vying to complicate health care access, and perhaps eventually scrap the system altogether. That would be a "disaster," said Paul Scott, director of the Healthcare Alliance for Austin Musicians, a non-profit that helps about 3,200 musicians a year in Texas get signed up for coverage under the government health care plan. Many ACA plans still don't come cheap, but it's made a huge difference for access, he said. Jettisoning the ACA would likely mean increased prices that would prompt a lot of artists to "drop their health insurance," Scott said. "And that will be a hit to our safety net hospitals and charity care." As for Graham, selling his sketches has successfully funded his first few weeks of treatment. But his son doesn't know if that will be enough. And Harries-Graham worries about those who can't find fundraising support thanks to their fame. "I don't know what someone else would have done," he said. "They would have been yet another person who goes into severe medical debt." "That is terrifying." str/mdo/jgc Error while retrieving data Sign in to access your portfolio Error while retrieving data Error while retrieving data Error while retrieving data Error while retrieving data
Daily Mail
05-07-2025
- Entertainment
- Daily Mail
Jewish music bosses who called for Kneecap ban at Glastonbury targeted after names are leaked
More than 30 of Britain's top music industry moguls have been targeted in a vicious online campaign that falsely brands them 'supporters of genocide' in the Middle East, The Mail on Sunday can reveal. The 'doxxing' attack is being orchestrated by former UK university professor David Miller, who is a presenter on the Iranian-backed Press TV channel. It features the names, photos and email addresses of some of pop's biggest producers, music publishers and lawyers – many of whom are Jewish – accompanied by a string of unsubstantiated and inflammatory allegations. One producer was branded a 'dedicated Zionist cancel agent', while another industry figure was accused of being involved in a 'Zionist regime front group'. Last night the Community Security Trust, a charity established to help protect Britain's Jews, condemned it as a 'particularly personal and focused attack'. Dave Rich, its head of policy, accused Mr Miller of targeting Jews 'every week' in online attacks that spark 'appalling social media pile-ons, including anti-Semitic threats and abuse'. 'For the people who get targeted by him it can be upsetting and alarming,' he added. 'We have given a lot of people across the Jewish community advice and support, including at times specific security advice, to mitigate against this.' Mr Miller's rant was published on X after the executives were named as supporters of a private email sent to Glastonbury organiser Emily Eavis, her husband Nick Dewey and a man thought to be operations director Melvin Benn ahead of this year's festival. The message, which was written by a veteran agent and copied to other senior music industry figures, urged the festival to drop Irish rap trio Kneecap over its public support for two proscribed terrorist groups – Hamas and Hezbollah. The email included the names of the 34 executives, whose businesses are linked to a string of global stars. But its contents later appeared to have been leaked to Kneecap and then appeared more widely on social media. Glastonbury last night said it 'categorically' denies the email was leaked by Ms Eavis or anyone else working for the festival. Mr Miller, a 61-year-old former professor of political sociology at Bristol University, told his 94,400 X followers that if they 'oppose the genocide' they might want to write to the executives he identified. He claimed he did not publish any private information about any of the music executives but the email was marked 'private and confidential'. Mr Rich added: 'When he went after the people who signed the letter to Glastonbury it was a particularly personal and focused attack because he devoted so much social media space to publishing their pictures and names and, for some of them, contact details. 'Importantly, he's doing this as a presumably paid employee of the Iranian state through his work for Press TV.' Earlier this year Mr Miller posted social media videos appearing to show him at the Beirut funerals of Iranian-backed Hezbollah leader Hassan Nasrallah and the group's deputy Hashem Safieddine. Both were killed in Israeli air strikes. Few of the executives named by Mr Miller were prepared to speak openly when approached by The Mail on Sunday. But one of them, Leo Pearlman, co-founder of production company Fulwell Entertainment, accused Miller of having 'doxxed' the signatories to the email. Writing on LinkedIn he said: 'The purpose of the leak to Kneecap and Miller was clear: to shame, harass and intimidate. I've been saying for 20 months now that it's on all of us to speak out, to stand up and to refuse to bow to hate.' In a statement Mr Miller said that 'accountability and justice are coming for Zionist crimes. 'Under international law, this also applies to those responsible for incitement to genocide, including those in media, arts and culture. There will be no escape from accountability for Zionists in the music industry for their participation in this genocide.'
