are increasingly outweighing the rewards. That same uncertainty shows up in the merch business. Sandell says his costs have spiked this year. A blank hat that cost $5.50 in early 2025 now runs $6.27 — a 14 percent jump in just a few months. That increase ripples through printing, pack- aging, and shipping, pushing retail T-shirt prices from $25 toward $30. “Nobody wants to be the first band charging $35 for a T-shirt,” Sandell says, regarding those aforementioned mid-level band stats. “But it’s heading there.” Behind the counter Kimber Lanning, founder of Stinkweeds Records and a longtime advocate through the Alliance of Independent Media Stores, says the situation is equally unstable for music retailers. Lanning opened her shop in 1987, settling most recently just a few blocks from Melrose. Her colorful and tidy store — with rack upon rack of vinyl, plus T-shirts, cassettes, and other curios — has long been a gathering place for the area’s indie scene. Elliott Smith, Sleater-Kinney, Blonde Redhead, My Morning Jacket and others have performed there. The building itself, to which she added a second story less than two years ago, carries its own history: It once housed a private library for the far-right and anti-communist John Birch Society. Yet beneath the tidy surface of a shop housed in what was once a temple to low-tax, limited-government “Americanism,” a business-hostile reality is emerging as shipping carriers unleash what Lanning calls “flat-fee chaos.” “UPS and FedEx are charging arbitrary import surcharges,” she says. “No transpar- ency, no phone calls returned. People are refusing shipments because the fees are higher than the product value.” Attempts to source products domesti- cally offer little relief, even in American- made stereo gear. “Yes, you can buy a handmade U.S. turntable — for ten grand,” Lanning says. “But the days of a reliable $250 model are gone. We abandoned that industry in the ’80s, and you can’t rebuild that overnight.” (Most U.S. turntable makers folded or shifted production overseas as CDs, introduced in 1982, quickly overtook vinyl.) For Stephen Chilton, who promotes concerts under Psycho Steve Presents, tariff pain shows up in the infrastructure that makes live music possible. “A decent midsize club probably has a million dollars in sound and lights,” Chilton says. “If you slap a hundred- percent tariff on that gear, that’s a giant number.”He says the problem isn’t just daily operations but the long-term risk for new venues. “You can’t plan a build-out if you don’t know what equipment will cost in a year,” he says.Chilton also sees growing visa obstacles for international artists. “Agents I know are telling British and Latin artists just to skip the U.S. next year,” he says. “If 20 percent of foreign acts stay home, that’s a huge hit. But it’s invis- ible because you don’t see the tour that never got booked.” Audiences, he adds, are spending differ- ently, splurging on fewer nights out as tour costs rise. “When someone drops $400 on a Taylor Swift ticket, they’re not going to a $25 club show the next week,” he says.Yet not every small entrepreneur is feeling the pinch this year. Ed Sokol, who owns Black Mountain Guitar and Mad Hatter Guitar Products in Cave Creek, says his customer base — largely affluent, older, and enjoying a 10 percent year-to-date Dow Jones swell — has remained stable. “A Boss pedal going up 20 percent doesn’t faze them,” Sokol says. “Most of my customers are retired and living off investments. When interest rates rose, they made more money.”Sokol’s inventory is mostly U.S.-made, including Gibson, Fender, and PRS. He says his sales fluc- tuate more with the stock market than with trade policy. “When the Dow drops, then I feel it,” he says. The cost of protectionism Economists have been bearish on tariffs for decades. A recent University of Chicago Booth IGM survey of leading economists found that nearly 90 percent agreed tariffs harm domestic consumers more than they help producers. The researchers found that import duties act as a hidden tax at every stage of production, raising the cost of raw materials, components, and finished goods alike. The Peterson Institute for International Economics, established by the late billion- aire investment banker and former U.S. Commerce Secretary Pete Peterson, reached a similar conclusion in a 2025 report. Economists there found that while higher tariffs may yield short-term revenue gains, the broader effect is slower growth, fewer jobs and lasting damage to the small enterprises that make up much of the real economy. For his part, ASU’s Ferraro likewise cautions against conflating a strong stock market with a healthy economy. “A common mistake is to look at a booming stock market and conclude tariffs haven’t been harmful,” he says. “That’s not neces- sarily true. The apparent strength may be driven by massive investments in artificial intelligence and data centers that are masking the negative effects.” “At the end of the day,” he adds, “when you consider the detrimental effects, I always conclude tariffs are not the right tool to achieve the stated objectives. They end up slowing the economy and harming the labor market.” Still, the policy remains useful — politi- cally, at least. In August 2025, the White House reinstated broad tariffs under Section 301 of the Trade Act, framing the move as a bold reshoring effort: a way to advantage American manufacturers in a globalized marketplace. That message plays well, even if its economic payoff remains doubtful. “The administration believes the United States has been treated unfairly by trading partners,” Ferraro says. “And because of the rising federal deficit, tariffs are seen as a way to raise revenue. Those are the standard arguments in support of trade policy of this kind.” But these new rules provide far fewer exemptions for small creative sectors such as music merch, audio gear, and boutique instruments and electronics that depend on intricate global supply chains. Additionally, the suspension of the long-standing de minimis customs rule — which once allowed low-value shipments under $800 to enter the country duty-free — has blown yet another headwind toward small creative businesses. Goods that once moved across borders with a few clicks now face full tariffs and customs holds. For print shops, record stores, and gear retailers, those fric- tions add up, turning a $200 shipment into a $350 gamble and further squeezing already thin margins.“It’s another mouth at the table to feed,” Sandell says. “Someone’s going to get paid. It just isn’t us.”For musicians, the economics are inseparable from the art. Touring, once a rite of passage, has become a perilous accounting exercise. Sandell says that for many artists, the financial math drives creative choices. “We used to plan a tour to promote the record,” he says. “Now we make a record to justify the tour.”For small businesses, the toll is financial and personal. Sandell says several younger artists have postponed touring altogether. “You can’t tell a 25-year-old musician to front thousands in merch inventory when shipping costs are unpredictable,” he says. “They’d rather stay home and livestream.” The cost to culture Phoenix is no stranger to bouts of cultural desolation, and it’s those small businesses and creative communities whose collective Herculean shoulders have allowed Phoenix to achieve destination status. Back at Stinkweeds, Lanning worries about the cultural fallout if those ventures fail. “When shipping companies, trade policy, and inflation all hit at once, it’s not just about margins. It’s about who survives,” she says. “Independent stores are the connective tissue of a music scene. If they go, the scene goes.”The irony, several interviewees note, is that the industries being squeezed once symbol- ized American self-reliance. Merch tables, record stores and indie venues have long served as miniature manufacturing and export hubs that design, fabricate and distribute culture worldwide. (What, after all, could be more American than rock ‘n’ roll and advertising?)The ripple effects of tariffs are turning those creative pipelines into choke points. The Valley’s working artists and small shops can’t bear the brunt of messy international trade policy indefinitely. The economics of the music scene have always been fraught. When busi- nesses or bands or venues disappear, there’s no guarantee they’ll return. Says Chilton: “It all comes down to whether people can afford to make art in the first place.” Kimber Lanning, the founder and executive director of Local First Arizona. (Jacob Tyler Dunn) Stephen “Psyko Steve” Chilton. (Meagan Mastriani)
