Browsing Tag

MeToo

Should ‘Cancelled’ Artists in the Vein of Marilyn Manson Get a Second Shot of Redemption?

Posted on 3 August 2024

Marilyn Manson is back on the scene after getting sober, but even if he never touches another drop, there’s no way of his reputation coming clean after the spate of emotional, physical and sexual abuse allegations brought against him.

The most notable allegations came to light in February 2021 when actress Evan Rachel Wood publicly named Manson as her abuser on social media. Wood had previously spoken about being a survivor of domestic violence in her testimony before a House Judiciary Subcommittee in 2018, aiming to get the Sexual Assault Survivors’ Bill of Rights passed in all 50 states. However, it wasn’t until 2021 that she explicitly named Manson as her abuser. In her statement, Wood claimed that Manson had “horrifically abused [her] for years,” including manipulation, brainwashing, and various other forms of coercion, starting when she was a teenager.

Following Wood’s public disclosure, several other women came forward with their own allegations against Manson, echoing similar themes of manipulation, psychological abuse, and sexual misconduct. Among these accusers were Ashley Walters, Sarah McNeilly, and Ashley Lindsay Morgan, who shared their experiences via social media platforms, detailing disturbing accounts of their time with Manson. These women described a pattern of behaviour that involved Manson using his celebrity status to manipulate, control, and harm them in various ways.

How Marilyn Manson Reflected the Emepheral Nature of Accountability and Justice

The fallout from these accusations was swift in some respects, with Manson being dropped by his record label, Loma Vista Recordings, and being removed from television projects like American Gods and Creepshow. Furthermore, the Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department began an investigation into the abuse allegations surrounding Manson.

These accusations and their public nature have sparked broader conversations about accountability, the power dynamics in celebrity relationships, and the support structures needed for survivors of abuse. Manson, for his part, has denied the allegations, calling them “horrible distortions of reality.” His legal team has responded to various lawsuits, suggesting that these claims are part of a coordinated attack. As of now, the legal processes are ongoing, and the court of public opinion remains sharply divided on the issue.

Yet, there has been no shortage of interest in his recently announced tour. Even the name of the tour, ‘As Sick as the Secrets Within’, which shares the name of his recently released single, stings as a slight to all the women who have suffered at the pallid hand of the talc-dusted embodiment of the edgelord syndrome. The lyrics cloyingly and desperately attempt to elucidate his religious reformation while also portraying the extent of how guilty his conscience is over morose pedestrian melodies which forlornly paint Manson as the ultimate victim of his vices. He’s a different beast than he was in Antichrist Superstar, but has he really found the light, or is he attempting to use it to blind his fans from his previous sin?

Regardless of what he’s putting in his arsenal to stay relevant and put money in the bank, for as long as the industry enables abusers, women will suffer the success of artists who gain their power from popularity. Fame and fortune empower and embolden abusers, which brings to question, should musicians who have fallen from grace get a shot at redemption?

Is the Road for Redemption Open for Cancelled Artists?

The phenomenon of ‘cancelled’ artists raises intricate questions about justice, redemption, and societal values. As public figures fall from grace, the discourse often oscillates between calls for accountability and the potential for rehabilitation. This conversation becomes particularly charged in the context of musicians, where personal character and creative output are often deeply intertwined.

The music industry, with all its glamour and history of pushing boundaries is a sphere where misconduct can go unchecked, sometimes shielded by fame and financial influence. Women, in particular, have borne the brunt of this unchecked liberty, as evidenced by numerous accounts that have surfaced in recent years, detailing exploitative and abusive behaviours by prominent male musicians.

The #MeToo movement has been instrumental in bringing many of these stories to light, challenging the industry to confront its demons and reassess its moral and ethical standards.

The call for ‘cancellation’—a form of social ostracism where the public withdraws support for the offending artist—often follows revelations of particularly egregious behaviour. This mechanism, while serving as a tool for public accountability, does not necessarily equate to legal repercussions but aims to impact the cultural and commercial viability of the artist. However, the complexity arises when considering whether these artists should have a pathway to redemption and what that pathway should entail.

Redemption, in a cultural sense, requires genuine contrition, a commitment to change, and actions that demonstrate an understanding of past wrongs. It is not merely a public relations exercise but a profound personal transformation that must be evident over time. The public’s scepticism towards seemingly sudden transformations of troubled artists is not unfounded.

For instance, Marilyn Manson’s recent portrayal as “skinny, sober, and Christian” coincides with the release of his new album and a new record deal with Nuclear Blast Records. This raises critical questions about the sincerity of his transformation, especially given the timing aligns with a strategic attempt to revive a career marred by serious allegations of sexual abuse.

The severity of the allegations against such artists cannot be overshadowed by their attempts at image rehabilitation. Society’s eagerness to embrace a comeback story should not undermine the experiences of the victims or trivialise the gravity of the offences committed.

While forgiveness is a personal and sometimes necessary path for healing, it should not be confused with the public’s responsibility to hold individuals accountable for their actions. The entertainment industry, in its quest for profit, often blurs these lines, readily backing projects that promise financial returns, sometimes at the expense of ethical considerations.

Furthermore, the readiness with which some sections of the industry and the fan base accept such artists under the guise of a second chance can send a disheartening message to survivors of abuse. It perpetuates a cycle where financial gains overshadow moral accountability and where superficial changes are rewarded over substantive justice.

Conclusion

The question of whether fallen musicians deserve a shot at redemption is not a simple one. It necessitates a discerning approach from the public and the industry, emphasising that redemption should be rooted in real change, not just rebranding. The music industry must develop more robust mechanisms to address and prevent abusive behaviours. Ultimately, the journey back should be marked by a sincere commitment to change, underpinned by actions that speak louder than any comeback album ever could.

Article by Amelia Vandergast

Should Music Fans Be Obligated to Separate the Art from the Morally Reprehensible Artist?

Posted on 25 May 2024

The Rock n’ Roll Hall of Fame is haunted by stories of sexual abuse, violence, and penchants for underage groupies, nonetheless, their portraits are hung, and the light of their legacies remains undimmed in popular culture. ‘Icons’ such as Bowie and Jimmy Page are still revered in a so-called era of cancel culture which sees the media peddling stories of fresh allegations for profit and forcing fans to wonder what role they should play in holding artists accountable.

The ongoing debate about how to deal with musicians who have committed abuse has come up once more after distressing video footage of rapper Sean “Diddy” Combs attacking his then-girlfriend Cassandra Ventura in a hotel in 2016 was released by CNN. In the previous year, Combs settled a lawsuit filed by Ventura, which accused him of a decade-long pattern of sexual and physical violence.

We have already seen that music fans are all too happy to turn a blind eye to the dark side of their sonic deities if it means that they can enjoy their music in a guilt-free capacity, but do we have a duty to banish abusive and exploitative artists from our playlists and record collections? Do music fans have a role to play in enforcing accountability and pushing society away from a culture which gives famous artists free passes to enact their abusive tendencies? Will there ever be a concrete and definitive answer to the age-old question, can the art be separated from the artist?

Why Is It Significant If Artists Are Abusive?

High-profile cases of sexual abuse significantly shape public perceptions of gender-based violence. Unfortunately, discussions in the media and among fans struggling to let go of their loyalty often attempt to diminish the instances of abuse by referring to sexual violence as simply ‘sex’ or blaming the victims for their experience.

In a time when gender-based violence is critically high in many regions and figures such as Andrew Tate are helping to normalise misogyny, the portrayal of Combs’ actions and society’s reaction can deeply influence our tolerance for such behaviour and whether those who commit violence are held accountable.

Historical Perspective

Musicians have long been implicated in gender-based violence and domestic abuse, yet they have often been protected by the industry. Historically, such behaviour was hidden behind the toxic “sex, drugs, and rock’n’roll” persona or excused as part of the artist’s “genius.”

During the #MeToo movement, many women shared their stories of abuse, assault, and sexual harassment involving well-known artists, directors, and actors. Despite this, abuse prolifically persists, with some artists and record labels using legal strategies to suppress information and silence survivors to protect their status and income. These strategies include quick settlements with non-disclosure agreements and defamation lawsuits aimed at safeguarding the artists’ reputations and commercial interests. The effectiveness of these tactics is seen in how long some artists’ abusive behaviours remain “open secrets” until undeniable evidence surfaces.

Reactions of Fans

Fans’ reactions to allegations of misconduct vary widely. Some believe they can separate the artist from their actions, maintaining that the artist’s personal behaviour does not affect their enjoyment of the music. Others view the artist and their work as inseparable and choose to stop listening to their music, discarding any related merchandise and memorabilia. For these fans, discovering such allegations can deeply impact their identity, especially if they had a strong connection to the artist’s work.

Jenessa Williams has conducted ample research into cancel culture, examining how race and genre shape perceptions of perpetrators, reporting that hip-hop fans can be more forgiving and sympathetic. Williams also noted how the response to Tom Meighan of Kasabian physically abusing his fiancé became definitive proof of fan loyalty being taken more seriously than victimhood. She also elucidated how fans can go into ‘denial’ phases of shock when allegations initially surface, highlighting how hard some fans can be hit by news of their idols falling from grace. It is clear that no free passes should be given in the wake of sexual violence. However, what remains unsettled is the question of should artists, after they have faced the consequences of their actions, be welcomed back into the music industry and the public sphere with cautiously open arms?

Shaping the Narrative

Fans have the power to shape the narrative. They can either minimise and excuse the actions of violent perpetrators and the industry that supports them, or they can stand in solidarity with survivors. Refusing to listen to the music of abusive artists can be a powerful political statement. However, since many fans continue to listen, it is essential to do so with an awareness of the broader social and political context in which violence occurs.

If you can’t unchain yourself from the music, listen without excusing or ignoring the artists’ violence, genuinely engage with survivors’ experiences, and challenge the music industry’s complicity. This involves incorporating survivors’ stories into the histories of these artists to ensure their misdeeds are not forgotten. We can acknowledge an artist’s work or achievements while holding them accountable for their actions and ensuring that survivors’ stories remain in focus.

The Need for Structural Change

Individual fans alone cannot hold artists accountable. There is an urgent need for structural change within the music industry to ensure that perpetrators of gender-based violence are no longer given a “free pass” and to prevent the normalisation of violence within the industry. As in broader society, there is still much work to be done to address these issues.

Article by Amelia Vandergast

Objectification isn’t Appreciation: How Misogyny is Necessitating a #MeToo Movement in the Music Industry

Posted on 17 May 2023

With the Manosphere promoting the idea that misogyny is called for after feminism has levelled the playing field and left men the most disenfranchised members of society, the recent calls for a #MeToo movement to sweep through the music industry are unlikely to get answered.

When men would prefer to follow the likes of Andrew Tate, who has been convicted on sex trafficking and rape charges, rather than accept the idea that misogyny will only leave half of the population at odds with each other, collective faith in the eradication of sexism is quickly waning.

While I have witnessed and heard endless accounts of sleaze in the music industry, the instance that inspired this piece was what occurred when I went to see the Anchoress at the Deaf Institute in Manchester on the 13th of May. While she was giving a live rendition of her sophomore album, The Art of Losing, which covers harrowing themes of grief, baby loss and sexual abuse, to a crowd which mostly consisted of men, it became painfully obvious that the vast majority weren’t there in appreciation of her ethereal vocals and lyrical eloquence.

One man felt COMPLETELY comfortable making what could only be described as clamorous sexual groans every time she announced the next song and took every possible opportunity to try and grab her attention, even going as far as saying that he wished she wrote some of her songs with him on her lap. Funnily enough, when that gig was covered by a Manchester-based publication, they mentioned the man in question but completely omitted the unsolicited lecherous comments thrown at the singer-songwriter. Instead, they documented it as “a conversation between Catherine and a clearly emotional North Easterner”.

Even if women on live music stages don’t attempt to take advantage of the fact that sex sells, that does little to get in the way of some people treating them like objects in a peep show, which just so happens to have a musical element. Of course, there is nothing wrong with being attracted to musicians; I’m not attempting to override innate human desire. But if you care enough about an artist to buy a ticket to their shows, maybe don’t choke the atmosphere with patronising entitlement to project your sexual fantasies on them.

The hypocrisy that lingers around the artists who present themselves in a way to evoke a certain response from male fans and then chastise them for it probably shouldn’t go unmentioned. While I don’t want to victim blame or insinuate that sexual assaults, verbal or otherwise, are ever necessitated by what someone is wearing, I can’t help but feel that when artists play the part of Lolita, they are only diminishing the progress of the women that are fighting for equality away from misogyny. I fully saw the reasoning behind Kathleen Hanna from Bikini Kill stripping off on stage with ‘SLUT’ sprawled across her stomach because she knew that is the way the male gaze would greet her anyway. However, when that is perpetuated in modern culture away from that pioneering protest, as a woman, I don’t feel as though it is empowering; in the slightest. I see what kinds of fans those artists and bands attract, and honestly, it makes me feel a little sick to see the throngs of men at the front with their cameras shuttering on wankbank material. Almost as sickening, are the male promoters who only tend to work with attractive female artists; the rest of the scene sees you behind your thinly veiled virtue.

At this point, I will address another elephant in the metaphorical room and acknowledge that the sexualisation of musicians can and often does go in the other way too, and while I don’t want to dismiss the uncomfortable experiences endured by men when fans decide to get handsy or send gyno shots on social media, the misogyny and sexism inflicted on women is part of a far bigger picture, which has been making the music industry one of the most daunting industries to be a part of with XX chromosomes. If you speak to any woman in the music industry, she will have her fair share of stories, from patronising sound guys to getting groped after their set to being discriminated against by labels to not being given the same opportunities.

How often do you see posts on social media where talents and contributions to a cultural society are overlooked because, to some people, nothing could ever be worth more than appearance? One article that effortlessly exemplifies my point is an article by The Richest, which has since been taken down, that listed 15 ugly singers that get by with their hot bodies. Note how artistic merit is completely thrown by the wayside in the article.

We clearly have a long way to go before the music industry is prepared to treat artists, regardless of gender, on a meritocratic basis. Sex may sell, but it only buys you cheap fake fans that will only support you until you’re no longer the apple of their lascivious eye.

Article by Amelia Vandergast