11 April 20th–April 26th, 2023 phoenixnewtimes.com phoenix new Times | cONTeNTs | feeDBacK | OPiNiON | NeWs | feaTuRe | NighT+Day | culTuRe | film | cafe | music | Y ou may already have some idea or perception about TikTok. Perhaps as a platform for dancing teens. Or a repository for lackluster lip- synching videos. But if you’re an up-and-coming musician, including those from the Valley, it’s anything but a hub for such gimmicks. “I never see people dancing on TikTok anymore,” says Chelsey Louise, front- person of Fairy Bones and a music marketing professional with Poor Life Choice. Instead, what Louise and other local artists see are their many cohorts using the platform to try and build their careers and make vital inroads with labels, booking agents, and more. “Name me another platform right now that people scroll with the sound on,” Louise says. “This is the perfect platform, and I just feel like that hasn’t clicked for a lot of people yet. I wish there were more musicians on there doing this.” For rapper-performer Bryan “Dadadoh” Preston, he says the platform is representa- tive of how people actually make and consume music and art these days. “Whether you’re making music, and someone is streaming, or someone makes really cool videos, all of that is intertwining into self-expression,” he says. “And TikTok is a good platform for that.” Matt Aldawood, who leads the band Troubled Minds, agrees with that very point, and adds that TikTok has become a vanguard of sorts for novel video content. “You can consume a lot of content in a short amount of time,” says Aldawood. “But you don’t have to finish watching a 15-second video.” He adds, “This is kind of the resurgence of what MTV did in the ’80s. Its [music videos] are the equivalent of a viral TikTok today. It’s [mostly] the same way now, except you’re just channel surfing in a way. If you get your algorithm to send you bands ...TikTok under- stands what you’d like to see, and then they’ll start sending you that kind of stuff.” But unlike old-guard places a la MTV, TikTok is far more open. “You don’t have to impress anyone to start,” Aldawood says. “You don’t have to get picked up by a label that’s going to fund your video. All of those hoops have been completely removed.” And, as someone who’s been playing music for some time, Aldawood notes that TikTok is truly singular in its appeal and promise. “I’ve been playing in bands since 2009. I’ve seen MySpace and Facebook,” he says. “[TikTok] is just a really cool platform where people can share and discover music, and I haven’t seen anything like this in my lifetime.” Preston adds to that line of thinking, and explains the sort of king-making power of TikTok that once belonged to other platforms and mediums. “People are discovering Metallica through Stranger Things, you know what I mean,” he says. “People doing weird dances that are being copied and shared — that’s how music is getting discovered now.” But TikTok’s not alone — platforms like YouTube and Instagram offer the same kind of short video content. Only as these artists told us, none of them seem to match TikTok’s pure potential. “When you’re scrolling on Instagram, you’re going to see a bunch of ads that are really blatant and in-your-face; it’s become a shopping hub, essentially,” Louise says. “Instagram, Facebook, and YouTube keep changing their algorithm to try to keep up with TikTok. So, then why don’t you just go to TikTok?” TikTok is so effective, as Aldawood mentions, that few other venues, including YouTube Shorts and Instagram Reels, have had nearly the effect of even one well-posi- tioned TikTok. “There was not a show or a Spotify play- list placement or a music video or single release or even tour that ever even got a fraction of what Tiktok has done for us,” Aldawood says. He’s referring to the moment fairly recently when Troubled Minds’ song “like i used to be” went viral on TikTok. The results, Aldawood mentions, were quite immediate. “We went from under 1,000 monthly [Spotify] listeners to around 20,000 monthly listeners in a week or two,” he says. (The band currently has 15,280.) “There were bands that I really liked, that are fairly popular bands, that started reaching out to me, which was insane.” Louise, meanwhile, says she’s also seen success, albeit less to do with a song blowing up and more about other forms of content. “I’ve found a good amount of success on TikTok,” she says. “I have a video with over 2 million views. I have a couple with 150,000 views. I have absolutely seen a boost, but mostly in person. I get comments about my TikTok constantly.” She adds, “I was talking about Meghan Trainor; I don’t even like Meghan Trainor. I just found that the marketing behind her last single was really, really interesting. So I like music marketing, and I was like, ‘Okay, talk about music marketing, because that’s what you like — and it worked.’” Even small feats on the app still have a large enough effect on bands. Justin Weir of Celebration Guns tells a story about sending a note to Mike Park, whose own Asian Man Records has a sizable enough following on TikTok. “I didn’t hear anything for months,” Weir says. “Then I just start getting tagged in on his TikTok saying, ‘Should I sign this band?’ We got, like, 1,000 likes and 112 comments and 13,000 views. We did get about 100 new followers in a week.” And while Weir and company appreci- ated the small bump, he notes that it can be fleeting. “It’s a huge deal, but in the end, it didn’t really do much,” he says. Weir’s comment expertly highlights a vital element of TikTok: mega-stardom isn’t for everyone, and the app and its algo- rithm can control who has access to these career-changing opportunities. “Because I hate the idea of having to play the game for any of this shit,” Weir says. “We’re not cool dudes. We’re in our 30s and 40s, and we’re not stylish or eye- catching. It just doesn’t feel like we’re in the same spot to engage people that way.” While someone like Louise recognizes the frustration, she says there are ways around that without affecting an artist’s sense of self-respect. “If you are a musician, you’re going to have to market yourself,” Louise says. “So if a trend is happening, you want to adapt it to your field immediately. UPSAHL, who’s from Arizona, she does a fun thing where she takes trending sounds and sings with them and makes them into a really short song.” She adds, “So this is a really good plat- form to create what makes you comfortable. Remember when we all started on Instagram, and we wanted the perfect curated feed? And then you wanted such perfectly staged photos? And I think it just got so fake. We got bored of it. I think [TikTok] absolutely translates to real-world results. But I don’t want to say it’s just going to because I make sure it does.” Jim Louvau TIKTOK AND YA DON’T STOP How Phoenix musicians rely on the video app for engagement and a path forward. BY CHRIS COPLAN >> p12 Chelsey Louise is the frontperson for Fairy Bones and an active TikToker.
