Icon to Offender: Should we continue to support to the art of criminals?

We have all heard the age-old saying, ‘Ignorance is bliss.’ 

That was me last year; blissfully listening to the music of my then-idol, Børns. It was through an avid following of interviews and guest performances that I was able to create a perceived connection and closeness to his career, and with time, the artist himself. However, in September 2018 I opened my phone to a new, transformed Børns: a man who I did not recognise, or wish to associate with. 

Multiple tweets from women wove a predatory tale of how Børns would scout young and unstable fans, waiting until they turned of legal age before manipulating them into committing sexual acts. After two years of sexual grooming (beginning age 16), one victim recollected, “He got me drunk, started touching me, and we went into his bedroom. The things he did were things I did not want, and it hurt. He was aggressive and controlling and I was so scared of him.”

They say that ‘Ignorance is bliss’, but at what price does such ignorance cost? I had never previously considered that the conduct of my idols had any bearing on their music, but as increasingly disturbing details dominated my Newsfeed, it became harder and harder to maintain this mindset. It was through this transformation of character that I was forced to acknowledge my own moral responsibility regarding the types of music I chose to consume.

Despite its recent prevalence in the media, the exploitation of fans in cases of abuse is not a modern phenomenon. Throughout history, there has been a deliberate denial surrounding the conduct of artists, in what has been termed the “aesthetic alibi” by historian Martin Jay. The “aesthetic alibi” is the prevalent notion that artists can be shrouded in their work, forgiven for their transgressions because their art appeals to us. However, this culture of silence surrounding abuse is starting to shift. A new generation has risen, one which refuses to brush such dirt under the red carpet; refuses to walk the worn paths of complacency and ignorance. 

Nowhere is this more explicit than in the #MeToo Movement of 2017, as the world watched as icons were transformed into something much more twisted and sinister. Hundreds of artists faced allegations, and not even the dead were safe with the hashtag opening the rotten caskets of historical cases, such as David Bowie and Michael Jackson’s alleged abuse.  In the wake of transparency, it is becoming harder and harder to remain ignorant of the crimes of our idols. As we acknowledge our artist’s transgressions, can we really justify our continued support of their music?

“You and I were brought together by God. We were meant to be together and this is us showing each other that we love each other.” These are the words of Michael Jackson to his seven-year-old fan after he allegedly convinced him to commit acts of masturbation and oral sex. Whilst Thriller was the defining song of my mother’s childhood, Michael Jackson was using the wealth and power he had accumulated from his success to rid his victims of their childhood. The 2019 documentary, Leaving Neverland, graphically depicted this and other chilling tales of how Michael Jackson exploited his celebrity status as pop-idol in order to groom his fans. Reflecting on pictures and footage of those years, the documentary unsettles the viewer with what appears to be the explicit and unnatural closeness Michael Jackson and his young fans. However, at the time there were no accusations or questions. It appears that the fierce love for the idol masked the man.

In a similar way, Gary Glitter used his power as an idol to convince children to visit him backstage and was eventually jailed for 16 years in 2015 for the sexual abuse of three girls under the age of thirteen as well as the attempted rape of a ten-year-old child. 

‘To think I went to the concert of a paedophile’, my mum physically gags. Once a fan, she can no longer listen to his music without recalling his convictions. One such song is Gary Glitter’s 1973 number one single, ‘I’m the Leader of the Gang’. Now a convicted paedophile, the lyrics have taken an altogether different interpretative stance. Scrolling through the comment section of its YouTube video, you will see a whole host of lewd jokes and one rather serious comment: ‘Remember Gary Glitter is the musician; Paul Gadd is the Dirty Nonce Paedo.’  Disregarding the colloquialism of ‘dirty nonce paedo’, it is interesting to note the barrier placed between the artist and the offender. There is this inherent suggestion that music becomes divorced from its creator once it is published; that the transgressions of the artist hold no bearing over our appreciation of their music. 

However, I can’t help but see this idea as fantastically idealistic. It is through streaming or buying the music of an offender, that you are financially supporting the medium through which they conducted their crime. 

Despite this, the continued financial support of convicts is not unusual. The recent release of the Joker to cinemas has seen Glitter’s song (‘Rock & Roll Part 2’), featuring as part of the film’s soundtrack, with the artist still to receive a profit from the song’s copyright usage. Similarly, Melanie Martinez released her new album K-12 in early September to acclaim. Whilst living with Martinez in 2017 ‘best-friend’, Timothy Heller, alleged that Martinez made persistent sexual advances towards her, using Heller’s financial dependence to exert power and control. This building manipulation eventually resulted in oral sex, which Heller said was not consensual. However, when these allegations are recalled, die-hard-fans attack back. One such fan tweeted, ‘Honey, let’s just leave that in 2017’ (‘That’ of course being the rape of her friend).

Remarkably, the transformation of an artist’s public image can sometimes serve to further consolidate its fan base. There is an unspoken supposition that ‘true’ fans will continue to support their artists no matter what, and ‘fake’ fans will be swayed by negative press. The idea of the ‘true fan’ became particularly explicit after Leaving Neverland aired earlier this year. The documentary was always going to generate debate, but it could never have been predicted that allegations of paedophilia would prompt a surge of sales in Michael Jackson’s music, with the pop-star rising 44 places in the charts.  

Perhaps this inability to recognise the artist is a reflection of how our modern-day consumption of music has transformed. The purchase of music in its physical form (Records, CDs) has slowed, with fans instead choosing to listen through platforms such as YouTube and Spotify. This lack of a physical element to music could be said to distance a listener from the moral responsibility of purchase. At the click of a button, you can listen to a whole host of music without having to actively seek out a particular artist’s work in a shop. 

As consumers of music we are placed in the privileged position of being able to transform the shape of the music industry: for better or for worse, it is our money which funds artists. I am not calling for a boycott of music, but rather that we become more conscious of the kinds of artists we choose to support. Instead of financing the morally bankrupt, we should stream artists who have the values that we ourselves maintain.  

Since the 2018 allegations against Børns aired on Twitter, he has ceased releasing music and his social media has remained blissfully quiet. His silence perhaps clearing space for another, more worthy individual to take his place. In light of his disgrace, it is evident that our power as consumers to transform the music industry should never be underestimated.

At risk of indulging in further cliché:

Ignorance may be bliss, but knowledge is always power.