Cancer Photography: Part 4—The Creative Collapse (and the Way Out)

By Scott W. Coleman

Zoltan Bathory of Five Finger Death Punch in San Antonio, Texas — Copyright Scott W. Coleman, All rights reserved.

As AI cranks out fake concert posters and corporate lawyers squeeze both music and photography, the message to real artists is the same: your work is worth nothing.

But this isn’t just about money. It’s about culture. When rights-grab contracts, streaming pennies, and monopoly promoters strip value out of creativity, the damage doesn’t stop with musicians or photographers. It ripples outward — to fans, to communities, to history itself.

We’ve spent this series tracing how concert photography is being devalued, how rights-grab contracts suffocate journalism, and how consolidation leaves fewer ways forward. This final piece is not a lament. It’s a call to act — to revalue art, to defend journalism, and to insist that culture belongs to all of us, not just the corporations that monetize it.

Musicians on the Brink

Fans often assume that if they stream a song daily or hear it on the radio, the artist must be living comfortably. The reality is far harsher.

A million Spotify streams might net just $3,000–$5,000 in royalties. That doesn’t pay for rent, groceries, health insurance, crew salaries, or rehearsal space. Even artists with household names are struggling. Unless a musician was around to sell millions of CDs or vinyl in the 1970s–90s, odds are they’re piecing together survival today.

Many live in modest apartments, walk their kids to school in unsafe neighborhoods, and pick up side jobs between tours. Spouses work day jobs to keep households afloat. Touring helps, but even that’s being squeezed.

Merchandise sales — once the lifeline of touring bands — are now cut into by venues. Some Live Nation venues take 20–25% of gross merch sales. That $40 concert T-shirt isn’t going to the band the way fans assume.

Live Nation’s consolidation adds another chokehold. Since merging with Ticketmaster and acquiring promoters like C3 Presents, the company owns or controls hundreds of venues worldwide. If a band wants to play an arena in a major market, they often must accept exclusivity clauses that bar them from playing smaller, independent venues in the same city for months before and after. That helps Live Nation. It doesn’t help bands trying to fill schedules or fans hoping for affordable shows.

Musicians are squeezed by streaming platforms on one side and monopoly promoters on the other

📌 What a Fair Release Looks Like

• Photographer retains copyright ownership
• Unlimited editorial use in perpetuity
• Clear definitions for promotional use
• Pre-set fees for commercial uses
• No work-for-hire language
• Credit line / attribution required

Photographers are in the Same Bind

Photographers once made sustainable incomes through resale, licensing, and archival reuse. That’s how you built a career: shoot a show, sell an image, license it later when the band returns or when a member passes away. Archives weren’t dusty closets — they were revenue streams and cultural records.

Rights-grab contracts now forbid it. Management teams demand work-for-hire language or time-limited rights, stripping images of long-term value. Publications lean on handouts instead of hiring freelancers. Independent outlets rarely pay. The result? A profession that once sustained livelihoods is being hollowed out.

We’ve seen major flashpoints. Taylor Swift’s 2015 contract sparked outrage by limiting editorial use to “one-time only” while granting her team perpetual free rights. The Foo Fighters provoked protests when a newspaper sent a cartoonist instead of a photographer to lampoon their restrictive release. Oasis’s 2025 reunion tour tried to impose a 12-month expiry on editorial rights, only to be forced to back down when UK publishers and agencies stood united.

Meanwhile, in the U.S., disunity and desperation keep the system running. For every photographer who says no, another signs — sometimes out of ignorance of copyright law, sometimes out of fear of losing access.

And while pros face restrictions, fans flood social media with shaky videos and unflattering clips. Drunken fights, groping in crowds, embarrassing angles — that’s what goes viral. If the goal of restrictions was to protect artists’ brands, it’s backfired spectacularly. Pros are punished, amateurs are free, and the result is a tidal wave of low-quality imagery that benefits no one.

AI: The Next Wave of Devaluation

Artificial intelligence adds fuel to the fire. Promoters and labels can now generate slick posters or “live concert” art without hiring a photographer. It’s cheap, fast, and soulless.

But AI doesn’t cover news. It can’t document the Astroworld tragedy in Houston, where 10 fans died and hundreds were injured in a crowd surge. It can’t cover the Route 91 Harvest massacre in Las Vegas, where photos of panicked fans and first responders told the world what was happening in real time. It can’t capture a fan invited on stage for a once-in-a-lifetime moment, or the look in an artist’s eyes when they connect with a crowd.

AI can generate simulations. It can’t capture history. And when we confuse one for the other, culture suffers.

Why This Isn’t Just About Us

This isn’t a sob story for musicians or photographers. It’s a cultural problem. When creative work is devalued to zero, the stories that bind communities disappear.

Fans lose, too. You get fewer live shows, fewer independent publications, fewer honest images. What’s left is PR — controlled, curated, hollow.

Communities lose. Concerts aren’t just private entertainment; they rely on public infrastructure. Taxpayers fund venues, police, and fire support. Local businesses thrive or collapse depending on crowds. What happens at a concert is public interest, and it deserves public record.

Solidarity matters. Oasis 2025 showed what happens when publishers, agencies, and unions refuse to play along. Restrictions were lifted because pushback was collective. Norway’s photographers showed the same years ago when they refused rights grabs. In the U.S., where union density is lower and freelancers are often isolated, solidarity is harder — but not impossible.

The Way Out

🙌 What Fans Can Do

Buy music directly from artists (Bandcamp, merch tables).

Support indie venues; skip Ticketmaster when possible.

Share and credit professional images.

Subscribe to publications that pay for real coverage.

Remember: cheap art costs culture.

The collapse isn’t inevitable. But it won’t fix itself.

• Photographers: Know your rights. Push back against rights grabs. Register your work. Learn from Norway.

• Musicians: Demand fair deals from promoters and streaming platforms. Resist merch cuts. Call out exploitative contracts.

• Editors: Stop running handouts. If access requires an abusive release, say no. Readers deserve journalism, not PR.

• Fans: Support independent venues. Buy albums. Subscribe to outlets that pay for coverage. Credit and share professional work instead of bootlegs.

And all of us — musicians, photographers, editors, fans — must recognize that we’re fighting the same battle. The corporations that profit from creative work thrive on division. Unity is the only antidote.

Why This Matters

If nothing changes, the collapse won’t just hit us. It will hit culture itself. The music you love, the images you remember, the stories that matter — they’ll all be flattened into advertising.

We can do better. But only if we fight for it.

Real-World Takeaways

• Culture dies when art is free for everyone but the artist.

• AI isn’t journalism. Photography is.

• Streaming isn’t a living. Touring isn’t sustainable under monopoly control.

• Solidarity is survival.