How does an indie artist turn into the number one selling album? The only other time this has happened was with the debut of Snoop Dogg on Death Row Records back in the early nineties. This is the power of social media and the death of the major labels and their bad bank loans to bands. Forget the 360 deals and corporate big wigs who have never toured in a cargo van, think on hard work and success that is earned and not given away. Forget shows such as X Factor, American Idol or the Voice. That system works for "pop stars", as I can equate them to a can of soda. On that initial burst from the can opening or bottle cap dropping away it tastes good, but goes flat more a few sips in. All that processed sugar and more chemicals with huge names meant to instill flavor do nothing but leave a sour taste in your mouth, same as most contestants on those shows.
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| Mac Miller from RagerLife.com |
At first glance, Mac Miller would appear unlikely to have a secret
interest in art conservation. The 19-year-old rapper slouches into the
Forbes Galleries sporting a pair of camouflage pants, a backwards
baseball cap and what seems to be a week’s worth of facial hair. Upon
noticing the Salvador Dali painting on the wall by the door, though, he
suddenly snaps into curator mode.
“This is an original Salvador Dali painting? Who uses this room?
Wait, so they just have a Salvador Dali painting here, and no one is
ever in here?” He pulls out his iPhone to snap a picture. “If I had a
Salvador Dali painting, I would cuddle it to sleep.”
Almost as unexpected as Miller’s interest in fine art is his rapid
rise—and accompanying role as a possible savior of independent music. In
November, the Pittsburgh-born rhymester released his debut album Blue Slide Park
through indie label Rostrum Records; it sold 144,000 copies in its
opening week and became the first indie album to top the charts since
1995. The success earned him a spot in the music section of FORBES’ first-ever 30 Under 30 list.
Miller went from mixtape maven to national sensation without
the help of a major record label or a big radio hit. Instead, he’s
relied largely on social media to build his following, releasing a new
song for every 100,000 Twitter followers (he now has 1.4 million). His
quirky, low-budget YouTube videos have clocked over 200 million views.
One, titled “Donald Trump,” even elicited a video response from the billionaire real estate developer himself. His secret: opening the spigot.
“I flood the internet with what I feel is quality content,” says
Miller, settled into a cushy red chair opposite the Dali. “I’m just
looking for creative ways to get all that content out there. And just
being reachable. Not necessarily sitting there and responding every
tweet or every fan, but being a symbol of someone who doesn’t think that
[he’s] anymore more special than anyone else.”
Adds Rostrum Records founder Benjy Grinberg: “He’s relentless … If
he’s not doing a show, he’s in the studio writing music. If he’s not in
the studio, it’s because he’s doing an interview or coming up with merch
ideas.”
The buzz is there, and the money is starting to roll in.
Miller played over 200 shows in 2011, grossing an average of $40,000 per
night. He expects to play almost as many shows in 2012, and his nightly
rate is now approaching $150,000. Miller also rakes in tens of
thousands per night in merchandise sales, thanks largely to the wealthy
suburban high school and college students who are the primary consumers
of his music.
And unlike Pittsburgh pal Wiz Khalifa, who signed a multiple rights
deal with Atlantic Records that calls for him to hand over a slice of
all revenues to the company, Miller is still fully independent. He
doesn’t enjoy some of the perks that often come with a major label
deal—like the ability to tap into a broader publicity network and get
favored status from radio stations—but he’s already connected, directly
through Twitter, to his massive fan base.
Miller’s rise is all the more amazing when one puts his age into
context. Born in 1992, he hadn’t yet started first grade when Tupac
Shakur and The Notorious B.I.G. were gunned down. At age six, he taught
himself piano, drums and guitar (Miller hasn’t given up the latter,
regularly reeling off rock hits like Weezer’s “Say It Ain’t So” between
rap songs; at a recent New York show, he flipped the guitar onto his back and played an impressive solo).
He started putting out mixtapes as a teenager, first as part of a group called Ill Spoken, then by himself. He released The Jukebox and The High Life
in 2009, earning him a modicum of buzz on the Pittsburgh rap scene and
throughout the internet. Miller soon caught Grinberg’s ear and signed
with Rostrum the following year; his big break followed with the debut
of the mixtape K.I.D.S. (Kickin Incredibly Dope Shit).
“I had been putting out mixtapes before that, and I had generated a little fan base, but K.I.D.S.
was when I felt I did something that people really decided to take
notice of who I was,” says Miller. “I feel like that gave me a platform
to build and reach a bigger fan base for people to care.”
Miller built off that success with Blue Slide Park, an album
that chronicles and almost glorifies suburban ennui. This is not the
youthful rebellion music of the Baby Boomers; rather, Miller describes a
world of endless adolescent possibility–albeit mostly concerning
controlled substances and consenting females–a sort of figurative
playground echoing the real one mentioned in the title.
And that’s precisely what makes Miller’s music so appealing to many
middle class high school and college aged students. They grew up on
hip-hop, but the music’s content didn’t always mirror their experience.
In Miller, however, there’s a bit more with which to identify.
“The reason Miller’s mass of fans follow him is not because of his music, at least not completely,” wrote Pitchfork’s Jordan Sargent. “It’s because he looks just like them, because they can see themselves up on the stage behind him, if not next to him.”
Detractors dismiss Miller’s work as “frat rap,” pointing out that
Miller’s subject matter rarely ventures beyond telling tales of teenage
debauchery. The young rapper, they contend, spends too much time
chronicling his herbal indulgences. Miller’s defense, as explained to
audiences at his shows, is that he’s simply being honest: “I just so
happen to smoke a lot of weed!”
That same what-you-see-is-what-you-get attitude pervades Miller’s
videos, which he makes with the help of pal and director Ian Wolfson.
Far from glitz and glamor of a traditional hip-hop video, his tend to
find glory in the mundane–take the video for “Frick Park Market,” which
starts out in the aforementioned deli with Miller placing an order for a
turkey sandwich.
“I always thought I’d look corny in the type of rap video in the club
with girls and all that type of stuff,” says Miller. “I just didn’t
think I could really pull that off. We always think it’s more fun and
better just to go outside the box and to use our videos to show cool
concepts.”
It seems unlikely that he’d be given the same creative freedom if he
signed with a major (think of the feathers that might have been ruffled
on a record company’s legal team by the idea of releasing a song called
“Donald Trump”). There’s no reason Miller can’t keep making videos on
his own—many of his earlier cuts cost less than $1,000 to put together.
Even the newer ones are cheap. “Party on 5th Ave,” a
generalized celebration that involves motorized scooters and wigs,
clocked in below $10,000, about one-tenth the cost of a typical
big-budget video. It’s unclear whether a major would be able to give him
a platform bigger than the one he’s already created for himself using
little more than a computer, a video camera and his brain.
For his part, Miller says he’s not philosophically opposed to the
idea of being involved with a major record label, and realizes that
there are advantages.
“We’ve done something that’s historical independently,” says Miller,
who’s already been contacted by multiple major labels. “If I reach a
point where there’s things I can’t do—we haven’t reached that point
yet—but if I ever reach a point where there’s something I can’t do and I
need some help from a major, who knows.”
It doesn’t seem Miller will need that kind of help anytime soon,
though. He’s already a teenage millionaire, and given his ambitious
touring plans, he could earn $10 million in 2012.
A few more years like that, and Miller shouldn’t have any trouble affording a Salvador Dali painting of his very own.
For more on the business of music, see my book Empire State of Mind: How Jay-Z Went From Street Corner to Corner Office and follow me on Twitter.
