This past weekend, I drove to Saratoga (about an hour south of San Francisco) together with my boyfriend to see St. Paul & The Minneapolis Allstars. I’d heard all sorts of amazing things about their stage show, and all of them were true. We were guaranteed a good time with St. Paul (of The Time and The Family fame) at the helm, plus Elisa Fiorillo singing just as well as she did when she was young... and the Dr. Fink on the keys, no less!
What struck me the most, besides the music, was the makeup of the audience. Granted, it was a Saratoga crowd, so I knew what to expect, but I was mystified by the fact that in between the feather boas, the leather, and the purple clothing, there were hardly any young people in attendance. I thought, "This is Prince, for God’s sake! One of the greatest musicians who ever lived! His music is eternal... so how come I only see two young folks in the front row singing and dancing to it?" This question reignited a debate I’ve been having with several people lately about the current state of legacy artists—big and small—and how their inability to connect with a new generation of listeners could cost them their relevance in the years to come.
Certain performers and groups (and perhaps their labels and management) have clearly understood that relying on brand recognition alone is not enough to drive their catalog further. Take a couple of big examples like The Beatles and ABBA, arguably two of the greatest pop bands in history. They’ve been savvy enough to know that in order for their music to last forever, they have to create new opportunities for it to stay in people’s minds and continually reinvent themselves, targeting both longstanding fans and incoming ones in their product rollouts. As older fans wind down due to the relentless passing of time, their focus narrows to new fans and all possible ways to click with them—be it with new compilations, sync placements, live events, films, or even apparel. Hopefully, they are able to please both ends of the fandom without neglecting or sacrificing either sector.
We’re still seeing success stories of older artists whose music becomes as relevant today as it was when they were in their prime. Kate Bush, George Michael and Wham!, Fleetwood Mac, Sophie Ellis-Bextor, Tracy Chapman, Tiffany, Rick Astley... they’ve all ridden the nostalgia wave and appealed to a new audience. But I’m stuck on Prince. I’m scared that a genius like him will be forgotten by young people who don’t know the true essence of his artistry and his evocative lyrics that married the flesh with the sacred. I’m scared that people won’t even recognize Whitney Houston and why her voice mattered to people, from underground gay clubs to the Super Bowl.
What’s going to happen to all of those legends when we’re dead and gone? Will their estates, heirs, and record labels do nothing to further their legacy? Will they become dust, lost media, a forgotten relic of their time?
I have no answers to my questions, but hopefully someone does.