A Personal Essay about how the institutions of music in Toronto have failed people of colour

Originally published for Demo – The Hart House Music Magazine in the 2017 print edition. Republished and appended with the editor’s permission.

I had an argument with a friend recently about whether indie music as a genre was “white music” in the same way that hip-hop was “black music.” He argued that indie music was tied to white urban culture and is one of the few genres of music that did not develop as a bastardization of black music. By contrast, genres like hip-hop and jazz can historically be traced back to black culture and black social movements. We agreed to disagree.

A casual understanding of indie music might regard it as “white music,” which excludes artists of colour and listeners from “indie music.” While the indie music scene can debate within itself about its accepted definition, perhaps this assertion is due to the underlying (and ongoing) history of institutional racism within the industry that supports the genre. The name itself—which can be superficially be understood as music released independently or by an independent label—is not inherently tied to whiteness; hip-hop, electronic, and experimental classical music all have extensive histories of releasing independently. It is the institutions of the music industry—the radio stations, the music festivals, and the record labels—that have created and maintained this perception of not only what indie music is but who it is created for: young, white audiences.

It is not as if racialized bodies are not participating in indie music. There are countless indie musicians that identify as people of colour: Rostam Batmanglij from Vampire Weekend, Karen O from the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Nancy Whang from LCD Soundsystem, Kele Okereke from Bloc Party, Santigold, FKA Twigs, and many others. Toronto-specific PoC artists include A Tribe Called Red, Shad, Ohbijou, Harrison, Yamantaka // Sonic Titan, Kaytranada, and Jazz Cartier.

Last year, when Noah Berlatsky of The New Republic published, “Why “Indie” Music Is So Unbearably White,” his argument stemmed from the reality that people of colour are making indie music but yet somehow it is not being considered “indie.” Instead it is being relegated to other genres. His central point hinges on what race signifies: “Genres like rock and indie are for many people defined by whiteness—that is, white skin becomes the genre marker, rather than the music itself.”

The general conceptualizations of indie music have had difficulty opening up its traditional categories in order to include a more diverse range of artists who could be considered to embody an “indie spirit.” Who can deny that Chance the Rapper is indie when he refuses to sign with a record label? Or that that Frank Ocean makes “indie music” that defies not only traditional R&B sonic qualities but tropes about black masculinity? Run the Jewels’ political rap and refusal to play by the rules of the genre puts them firmly outside of the realm of mainstream hip-hop. All of Kanye West’s albums following My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy (2010) have sonic qualities that defy any concrete definition and embody the indie spirit through its sheer experimentation.

What matters then, are the institutional gatekeepers who get to decide how the categories of “indie music” are manifested and have the largest influence in crafting the perception of indie to both serious and casual listeners. And within this scene, a lack of diversity can be found in the prominent institutions of “indie music”. Founded in 2013, Indie88 is arguably the most public face of indie music in the city of Toronto and has a significant following both on air and online. Indie88 was created with the following mission: to “uncover, discover and re-discover it first,” and that “Popular. Obscure. Signed. Unsigned. We believe indie comes in all shapes and sizes.” And yet, Indie88 has consistently failed to uphold these principles, especially when it comes to artists of colour. Of all of my hours spent driving around and listening to Indie88, the radio station often favours indie-rock/indie-folk bands like The Lumineers or Arkells. I have rarely, if ever, heard them play artists that identify as people of colour.

Additionally, despite the growing hip-hop music scene in Toronto, the city no longer has a broadcast home for the genre, and consequently, no home for indie hip-hop. The radio stations that once played hip-hop and R&B music in Toronto, such as MuchMusic’s RapCity and Flow 93.5, have been cancelled. This leaves artists like Shad, Kaytranada, and Jazz Cartier in a more precarious position as indie hip-hop artists. Within the growing subsection of hip-hop where artists eschew the traditional big major labels and continue to push the genre’s boundaries, it is glaringly apparent that any their music has failed to find a home.

This is especially troubling due to the fact that indie music benefits significantly from the contributions of artists of colour that enrich the genre by sharing personal and collective narratives that might not otherwise have a platform. When independent South Asian hip-hop group Swet Shop Boys released their 2016 album Cashmere, they addressed the reality of racial profiling after being stopped at the airport (“Shottin”). It’s a poignant inclusion that not only affirms the experiences of their racialized fans but their place as fans of the genre. It drives home the point that fans of colour should be able to listen and feel a sense of ownership rather than alienation when listening to “indie” music; that it is inappropriate to consider it as a creation solely for white audiences.

Indie music is not inherently white but if major cultural producers continue to prioritize the music of mostly white artists, it will reaffirm the opinion that indie is primarily for white people. If this continues, we risk being shut out of the conversation. On 2011’s Metal Meets, Toronto indie band Ohbijou released a song entitled “Balikbayan,” which in Tagalog—the Filipino language—means “one who returns home.” It also refers to freight boxes full of goods that the members of the Filipino diaspora send back to their relatives in the Philippines. The band sings that these boxes carry home “the weight of a better life.” It is a story that I relate to deeply as a Filipino immigrant who moved when I was three. It matters that people of colour are included in indie music because we all deserve to hear music that reflects who we are. What is the mission of indie institutions like Indie88 if they are not dedicating themselves to showcasing local music that tells the narratives of Canada’s increasingly multicultural population, and airing music that reflects the diversity in their own city? By failing to provide a platform for artists of colour to showcase their talent, the institutions of music in Toronto will continue to obscure listeners who do not see themselves reflected in the music they showcase.