Kesha versus music biz
Is case a cautionary tale or a tipping point in an industry that celebrates misogyny?
It’s doubtful that Kesha Rose Sebert’s case against producer Lukasz “Dr. Luke” Gottwald would have struck such a deep chord on social media and elsewhere if it weren’t for the music industry’s already abysmal track record with women.
Even after this week’s dismissal of her case in New York, in which the singer alleged that Gottwald had sexually assaulted and emotionally abused her, Kesha became a symbol of the insensitivity toward women in the court system when a judge commented that every rape was not a “gender-motivated hate crime.”
Kesha may have lost this part of her case (she has possible other legal avenues to pursue), but in the process, she’s triggered something remarkable.
Pop’s most famous women have been speaking out on social media, onstage and in short sound bytes in support of Kesha.
“There are people all over the world who love you @KeshaRose. And I can say truly I am in awe of your bravery,” Lady Gaga tweeted a few weeks ago.
“Kesha — I Am So Angry for You. They Were Wrong. I’m Sorry,” read a sign that Miley Cyrus held up on her Instagram account.
Kelly Clarkson tweeted, “Trying 2 not say anything since I can’t say anything nice about a person... so this is me not talking about Dr. Luke.”
But these same artists have been reticent to speak in-depth about issues of diminished opportunity, exploitation and sexual abuse of women in the industry. It’s a relative silence that speaks volumes.
The record biz is one of the few places in entertainment where such practices are not only accepted but also celebrated.
The N.W.A biopic “Straight Outta Compton,” HBO’s “Vinyl” and bestsellers by rock icons all look back longingly to a golden age when music was dangerous, scenes were small and women were groupies or assistants.
The debauchery of ’60s and ’70s rock has made the music business a comfy place for lechery and sexism — it’s “rock ’n’ roll, baby!” The implication is that the culture of rock ’n’ roll has a set of different rules when it comes to how women are treated in the workplace — i.e. studios, backstage, clubs and on tour.
Sexual harassment and discrimination are as common to the record business as cocaine and wrecked hotel rooms once were.
But women are now more critical to the music industry’s survival than ever before.
Churning out pop diva after pop diva has been part of an extended emergency business plan in an industry that’s seen sales plummet over the last decade and a half, thanks first to piracy and now streaming. Pair a young female singer, preferably straight off a Disney or Nickelodeon show, with a Midas-touched producer and you have a straighter shot at a hit single than if banking on an organically grown rap, rock or EDM artist.
If you were to judge the state of popular music today based on the most recent Grammy red carpet, it would appear women were in charge again. Taylor Swift, Cyrus, Selena Gomez and Gaga — names that have dominated pop music over the last few years. Many came up on the same track as Kesha, their careers curated by a small network of untouchable producers including Max Martin, David Guetta and, of course, Gottwald.
But it’s a ghetto of sorts, because female artists today have little if no chance of breaking big in areas where artists historically have had more control over their careers than mainstream pop (rap, rock, electronic dance music). As a genre engineered by a handful of older male hit makers, pop is where women may find stardom, but on someone else’s terms.
Kesha, as she is commonly known, was groomed by Gottwald, polished by a record label and put on the same trajectory as Britney, Katy and Selena.
She was known only as Ke$ha when she first climbed the Billboard charts with her 2009 debut single “Tik Tok.”
But even back then it was clear that the singer from Nashville, who was discovered at age 17, wasn’t cut from the same couture cloth as pop’s other leading divas.
Her hair was often an unstyled mess, her makeup seemingly applied in a gas station bathroom. She frequented unfashionable bars in cut-off shorts and thrift store cowboy boots.
And on the red carpet, she of course mugged for the camera, but she looked uncomfortable having to couch her wacky persona inside the perfunctory pop role of over-sexed teen (she was 22).
Her ultimate deviation from the plan, however, came in 2014, when she sued Gottwald and Sony to be freed from the producer’s Kemosabe label, claiming that she had been sexually assaulted as a young protégé of Gottwald. Both Gottwald and Sony have denied those claims.
She recently posted on Instagram that Sony had offered to let her out of her recording contract if she would redact the claims of rape. Sony and Gottwald deny those allegations as well, claiming that Kesha wants to renegotiate a better contract as she’s obligated to deliver several more records for Sony.
Today, Kesha may serve as a cautionary tale of what happens to female pop stars when they grow up and try to wrestle control of their own careers.
Stuck in a legal tangle, she hasn’t released an album in four years.
But it remains to be seen whether Kesha, the girl who’s never quite fit the mold, will someday symbolize a tipping point when women stood up to an industry that exploited them.