If you’ve always wondered what the term “Renaissance Man” really means, there’s no one better to turn to as the embodiment of the handle than the eccentric Minnesota artist Mark Mallman. Only a con man has more “credentials” than him—Except Mallman’s are real. Mallman is a rock musician, composer of TV songs for Rick and Morty and General Hospital, composer of music for films, unrestrained stage performer, author, journeyman, and music historian.
When we learned about that last designation of his, New Noise had an inkling that Mallman could provide some context for, and some unique perspectives about, how musicians can avoid financial ruin, homelessness, and even starvation. Especially while living under the undemocratic, repressive, draconian, tyrannical, and authoritarian regime that now controls the country.
New Noise touched base with Mallman in early May to learn what musicians and other artists experience and suffer financially under authoritarian regimes. Here is an abridged version of our conversation, which took place shortly before the release of his 11th album, Magic Time; a “supernatural concept record” that is as far-out as it sounds.
Does the over-saturation of marketing and advertising culture make it virtually impossible for an American artist to survive? That is, unless they also have suave skills as a salesman? And isn’t selling yourself directly antithetical to the artistic process?
If you were born in a working-class or middle-class family, which most of us are, you have this worm in your brain that’s always telling you, “If this song takes off, I can quit my day job.” Or, “This song has gotta pay the rent. So you better put a chorus in this song.”
But there are actually two ends of the spectrum. Eminem and Julian Casablancas came from opposite sides of the financial spectrum, but that enables both of them (with) total creative freedom. Eminem, in the very, very beginning, was so poor. And if you’re poor, you don’t even get a chance to be creative because you’re trapped in the system. If you don’t have any money, you don’t have much to lose and can take risks.
But if you’re like Julian Casablancas, you can say, “Hey, we’re gonna make this totally radical record. And if it fails, I got something to fall back on.”
The working-class artists, the middle-class artists, have this survival mechanism in their brain that causes them to say, “That musician sold out because they made a record full of choruses.” Those people have to remember that most of us can’t put art totally first. We have to also pay rent.” It’s a working-class ethic that can impede upon the ethos of pure artistry. But that’s also a myth too, because music is essentially entertainment, you know?
We hear a lot about self-censorship these days in relation to the First Amendment. Specifically, how it’s atrophying from disuse because people are afraid that speaking their mind could classify them as enemies of the state under Trump’s authoritarian regime.
Let’s pause for a minute to consider that this is what the United States of America has become We are now, at best, marginally preferable to South American dictactorships.
Does a similar neurological event take place in the subconscious of a musician? Particularly an artist who wants to stay true to his art but subconsciously thinks he has to sell himself. Does that thought occur even if it’s in the forefront of musician’s mind while they’re writing?
Yeah. This myth of the “suffering artists,” the myth of Van Gogh and ideas like this—perpetuated by Hollywood—have become abstracted. It guilt-trips us all into thinking that if our art is our job, it lacks purity, and purity is the highest art form. But really, all we’re doing is trying to manifest joy, or insight, or translate the human experience. I don’t think you should fault art for functioning on a craft level as well.
You can always twist a narrative, you know? Dostoevsky was writing all that time because he had to pay the rent. The Brothers Karamazov was written as a job. We don’t see that when we pick the book off the shelf because we don’t have to pay the rent when we read the book. I think we have to understand that the fan experience is different than the artist experience.
How do you envision your life as an artist from here on out?
I started songwriting when I was young, and now I’m like, “Well I’ll probably stop when I’m 75.” We have this illusion that because most artists hit their peak when they keep going. But, of course, that isn’t always true.
For the previous installment of New Noise’s “On Tyranny“ series, read “Cost-Cutting Hacks for Broke Bands Pt. 5: Insanity Alert, Scrunchies, Help, Necrofier“
Learn more about Mark Mallman on his website.
Photo provided courtesy of Wilson Webb
