In early August, Chappell Roan made history when her performance at Chicago’s Lollapalooza became “the biggest daytime set” in the festival’s history. A video of the masses dancing along to her synth-pop song “HOT TO GO!” went viral that same weekend. Between Coachella, Governors Ball, and Bonnaroo – where festival organizers moved her from a performance tent to one of the main stages – the indie pop star has serenaded hundreds of thousands of people this summer.
Her primary audience has been queer women in their teens and early 20s – listeners that see themselves in Chappell. In just a few short months, her fanbase has ballooned beyond that, with articles proclaiming that she’s uniting queers everywhere. It’s her queer expression on stage and in verse, her ability to deliver an unapologetically gay, sapphic bop like “Naked In Manhattan” to scores of people. It’s her refusal to perform at the White House for Pride that makes her so popular among a radicalizing youth hungry for change in a society that’s increasingly put restraints on gender and sexuality.
But while fans of her 2023 sleeper-hit album, The Rise and Fall of a Midwest Princess, are excited to see her get the recognition she deserves, catapulting into global stardom comes with consequences – especially in a brutal, capitalist music industry.
Nearly 40% of Chappell Roan’s days since February 2024 were spent doing live performances – either opening for Olivia Rodrigo on her Guts World Tour, doing late-night shows, NPR’s Tiny Desk, on her own Midwest Princess Tour, or festivals. Chappell’s shows are high energy, with iconic, drag queen-inspired outfits, choreography, and a vocal range that stuns, particularly in her latest single, “Good Luck, Babe!” As any musical artist knows, it takes both mental and physical fortitude to be on tour. In the last 6 months, Chappell Roan has had a wild schedule.
Born Kayleigh Rose Amstutz in a small Missouri town, Chappell was the oldest of four and grew up in a conservative Christian home in a trailer park. Now 26 years old, she’d been working toward her current commercial success since she was 14. From auditioning on America’s Got Talent to uploading YouTube videos of covers to traveling between Missouri and the coasts for musical showcases, the singer-songwriter spent most of her teen years and early 20s chasing a chance at making it big. It took twelve years for her hard work to pay off.
But in mid-June, Chappell paused during a show in Raleigh, North Carolina, to tearfully and sincerely admit that she was overwhelmed by the acceleration of her career: “I just feel a little off today, ‘cause I think that my career has just gone really fast, and it’s really hard to keep up… This is all I’ve ever wanted. It just hits me sometimes.”
And this is an artist’s dream come true: Chappell Roan is finally getting to do what she loves as a full-time job. But having a full-time job under capitalism is grueling, and like any other job, musicians who have “made it” are pushed to the brink by the same people other workers are exploited by: the bosses. In this case, multinational music corporations and streaming services like Universal Music Group and Spotify. And like gig workers in other industries, artists don’t have the protections they’d have in a unionized workplace. Chappell Roan is well aware.
When interviewed by Billboard in June of last year, Chappell said, “I encourage other artists to remember that labels need you. You don’t need them. I hope that I continue to love myself and strive to find a healthy way to deal with this career. This industry does not thrive off of gentleness. It thrives off of exploitation, unfortunately.” And her best-selling merch has already been exploited by the Harris-Walz campaign; they’ve raised over $1 million with their “Chappell Roan-inspired” camo hats. Those funds will be used to elect politicians that are in favor of bombing Palestine indefinitely. Did they ask the pop star who said “freedom for all oppressed people in occupied territories” if they could co-opt her look?
In 2015, Chappell Roan was originally signed by Atlantic Records (whose parent company is one of the big three: Warner Music Group), but was dropped from the label in 2020 – her music, at that time, wasn’t “profitable enough.” She was on her own, working as a production assistant, nanny, and barista just to stay afloat in LA – eventually, she moved back to Missouri and worked at a drive-through while making music independently.
The majority of artists in the industry do not make enough to live off their art’s earnings; for a streaming service like Spotify, a musician would need to have over a million streams in order to make $3,000-$4,000. Think about that: you could have a million people listen to your music and make just enough to cover rent in Seattle. You’re still coming up short if you pay rent in New York City. It amounts to being paid between $0.003 and $0.004 per stream. The streaming giant is cutting pennies into thirds and fourths for music-makers while its net worth is $67 billion. Some artists make money by performing live; in addition to finding time to create their art, they also have to find the time and energy to do those performances, and to go on tour. It’s no surprise that some of the biggest names in music are nepo babies with generational wealth and connections to spare.
If an artist does achieve commercial success, it doesn’t guarantee they’re “out of the woods.” Their labor can be exploited through bad record deals, predatory producers (see Kesha v. Dr. Luke), and absurd work schedules. In a capitalist world where industries need the next best thing, the pressure can reach a fever pitch. There’s the risk of substance abuse and burnout, resulting in resenting the craft and abandoning their passion altogether, or depression and suicide. Working-class artists, like all workers, should be able to have all their needs met – mentally, physically, financially – and also be able to share their art with the world.
In less than a year since her Billboard interview, one can imagine it’s become even more of a struggle for Chappell Roan to deal with everything the music industry demands of a rising artist. A healthy work/life balance is an impossible feat for most working people. More than 8 million Americans work multiple jobs just to make ends meet. For many ordinary people, there’s not enough time in the day to work to pay rent, medical bills, and student loans, and still participate in our arts and culture scenes. Capitalism starves us of the opportunity to enjoy music, museums, cinema – the need of the billionaire class to profit off our labor is prioritized over everything: art, wellbeing, rest, collaboration, community – the things that inspire us to find joy in being alive.