From Bandcamp to Ban Camp

A year ago Bandcamp didn't just remove my music, they pocketed my earnings. This wasn't a faceless corporate decision it felt like a targeted attack, orchestrated by those who parade under the banner of "trans rights" but seem more intent on silencing anyone who doesn't echo their worldview.

My view that "a woman is an adult human female" expressed legally and outside their platform during a promotional interview for my second album 'Beauty After Bruises', became the pretext for what I can only describe as an assault on my livelihood and my voice. It began with my deplatforming from Bandcamp, followed by being dropped by my booking agent. The situation escalated when I was arrested and faced a legal battle. However, I won my case.

The Daily Mail and GB News covered my story and peeled back the curtain on a chilling reality that in today's music world, your right to be heard hinges not on your artistry but on your adherence to certain dogmas.

The organisation Freedom In The Arts, led by Rosie Kay and Denise Fahmy, stepped up by writing an open letter to Bandcamp advocating for my reinstatement and the release of my funds. Yet here we are a year on, in a void with no response. My music's gone, my income's gone and what's left is a stark message to every independent artist out there: toe the line, or you’re next.

Today I reflect not just on my personal experience but on what this means for independent artists, listeners and the future of digital music distribution.

Music streaming services, with Spotify at the forefront, promised a revolution in how we consume music. They said having an infinite jukebox at our fingertips would democratise music. However, this revolution has a dark side. We've entered an era of digital feudalism, where instead of owning land (or in this case, music), we’re paying endless rent in subscriptions to digital overlords for the privilege to access our culture, which we once could own outright in the form of CDs and vinyl LPs.

Then there's the royalty debacle. An artist needs 300 streams to afford a pint of milk, whereas Daniel Elk the CEO of Spotify is wealthier than any musician in history and has 4X the net worth of Paul McCartney. This pay out model screams exploitation where the artists, the lifeblood of these services, are barely scraping by. It's a bitter irony that in an era where music is more accessible than ever, making a living off it is unsustainable.

So for me Bandcamp wasn't just another platform, it was a haven of artistic autonomy in a sea of corporate domination. Bandcamp gave me control over my music - how it looked, how it was priced, and how it reached my audience. This level of control is a lifeline for independent artists like me who don't fit neatly into the politically and ideologically correct, cookie-cutter shapes favoured by the mainstream music industry.

Bandcamp was special because it wasn't only about transactions it was about connection. On Bandcamp Fridays, my fans bought my music knowing I'd get every penny and that they were directly fuelling my next album and my next tour. Each sale wasn't just money it was validation, it was rent and groceries.

When Bandcamp decided to pull the plug on me it was a betrayal and a severing of the lifeline that connected me directly with my audience, depriving me of my income fairly earned and depriving fans of making their own decisions to listen to my music. If we're at a point where voicing a biological fact can dictate your career's fate and result in such draconian measures without any dialogue or due process, then we're not just talking about corporate policies. We're talking about a form of cultural tyranny where even independent artists are now treading carefully, weighing their words against their need to eat, to create and to live.

Marking this anniversary of being removed from Bandcamp, I think about what's happening in the music industry today and my heart sinks not just for myself, but for every independent artist out there. We're in a battle not just for our music, but for our right to speak and to exist as we are. Bandcamp was once a beacon of hope, but now it has become another gatekeeper that decides whose voice gets amplified and whose gets silenced.

I see now how vulnerable we independent artists truly are. Without the backing of a major label, without the legal teams and PR machines, we're at the mercy of platforms like Bandcamp. They hold the keys to our audience, our income, and in many ways our artistic identity. When Bandcamp decided to keep my earnings, it wasn't just theft it felt personal, like they were trying to erase me for not fitting into their mould of acceptable thought.

What's happened with Bandcamp feels like a direct blow to the heart of indie music culture, and it's choking the life out of grassroots music where it matters most. Independent artists have built an emotional bond with Bandcamp, seeing it as our last refuge for real music, but now with the threat of losing income the vibe is one of both heartbreak and economic fear. This isn't just about who we are as individuals it's a bigger conversation on culture and ethics that hits on our basic human rights.

Artists are protected under Article 10 with the right to Freedom of Conscience, meaning we can make music that speaks our truth. We've got Freedom of Thought to dive deep into our creativity without any chains, and Freedom of Expression to get our music out there and enjoy it how we see fit. These aren't just legal terms, they're what keep our cultural world alive and kicking with true diversity and vibrancy. The well being of indie music platforms like Bandcamp is tied directly to these rights because they're the ground where such freedoms can take root and flourish.

Music has always thrived on dissent and on questioning the status quo. Bands like the Sex Pistols or figures like Morrissey and Patti Smith, all pushed boundaries both musically and culturally. They said things others wouldn't, or couldn't, and that's what made them monumental. But in today's climate where platforms enforce ideological conformity, where's the space for the next punk movement or the next voice of discontent? There isn't one, because the cost of non-conformity is too high.

The pay out systems of streaming services have turned music into a commodity where only the most mainstream, the most politically correct content thrives. Independent artists now face an impossible choice: adapt your art to fit what's deemed acceptable or face obscurity. This wasn't how legends were made, they were made by breaking the mould and not by fitting into it ever so neatly.

Bandcamp was supposed to be different, a place where the underground could surface and where unique voices could find their audience without compromise. Now it's clear that even here there are lines you cannot cross. This betrayal stings because it cuts off the very roots from which new, revolutionary music movements could grow. Without these platforms giving space to the unconventional, how can we expect to witness the rise of the next cultural icon?

I fear we're entering an era where the music that challenges us, that makes us think or feel deeply will soon become extinct. Because if artists are too scared to speak their truth, if we're all singing from the same sanitised song sheet for fear of digital banishment, then the future of music looks bleak. It won't be the loud, chaotic, beautiful mess it once was with bands like the Sex Pistols or individuals like Morrissey. Instead it'll be a well-curated playlist, safe, predictable and utterly devoid of the raw spirit that once defined rock 'n' roll, punk, or any genre that dared to defy.

A year on, I'm defending not just my work but the spirit of independent music. My experience is a reminder that censorship can strike anyone. Independent artists need to resist the overreach of digital platforms that try to control what we can create. Even with Freedom In The Arts by our side, the onus is on us to speak out.

As a freelance musician, I'm on my own when it comes to battling false narratives or career-threatening cancellation attempts, lacking the protections and resources that employees might have through unions or legal avenues. Additionally international platforms like Bandcamp, which aren't bound by British law, can suddenly shut down your income stream without explanation or accountability, leaving you virtually powerless to challenge their decision.

So we must reassert our right to freely create and share our work, regardless of differing political views, because having a platform for our music is essential for both us and our listeners. If we let these platforms censor or shape our work, they'll turn vibrant and diverse music into something bland and uniform that could well fade into silence. We need to act now - before the music stops.