No Labels, No Hype, Just Raw Talent: Why Independent Artists Matter
- Mickey Miller

- Sep 21, 2025
- 6 min read
Music didn’t start in arenas or on streaming charts—it started in garages, basements, and small clubs where nobody knew your name. The next big band is out there right now, pouring their hearts into every note, hoping someone will listen, hoping someone will care. They aren’t backed by huge labels, massive marketing budgets, or AI-produced hits. They are independent artists, and they are the heartbeat of music. Without them, there would be no raw passion, no stories of struggle and triumph, no real connection between the music and the people who love it. It’s time to see them, hear them, and support them before the next legend slips by unnoticed.
Since 2009, I have been all in when it comes to supporting independent artists. Most of the bands I’ve booked over the years have been just that, independent. No label money, no industry safety net, no guarantee of big crowds. Just passion, grit, and a love for music so strong that they’ll play their hearts out whether there are 20 people in the room or 2000. I’ve seen it with my own eyes: a band stepping onto the stage, not knowing if anyone will even care, and leaving with new fans lined up at the merch table to buy shirts, CDs, or just shake their hands. That kind of connection is real, and it’s why I believe so deeply in these artists.
It’s easy to forget that every famous band we know today; Metallica, Nirvana, Guns N’ Roses, Mötley Crüe, The Doors, Fleetwood Mac and Slayer started the same way. They weren’t born filling arenas. They were kids in garages, playing basements, scraping gas money together, and hoping someone would listen. Many of these bands got their start playing in small clubs like the world-famous Whiskey a Go Go in Hollywood, California, a place that earned its legendary reputation because so many big-name, label-signed bands launched their careers there. Back then, A&R scouts would be in the crowd or hear about sold-out shows through word of mouth. Bands would send in demos, and the next big thing could be discovered just by playing the right show in front of the right people. My, how times have changed. The next “big band” is out there right now, playing in front of small crowds, trying to be heard, and unless people support them, they may never get the chance.
The music industry today isn’t built to help independent artists. Streaming services pay fractions of a penny per play. A song can rack up thousands of streams and still not cover the cost of a tank of gas. People assume streams equal income, but for most independent artists, it’s a harsh reality check. Touring, which should be their lifeline, is often the biggest gamble. By the time you factor in fuel, hotels, food, gear, crew, and van repairs, most independent artists are lucky if they break even. Too often, they end up in the hole. Some venues demand a percentage of merch sales, which is one of the few ways bands actually make money. And if they land an opening slot for a national act, many headliners even dictate how much merch can cost, what items can be sold, and sometimes take a cut themselves.
I’ve never believed in bands having to buy on to a show just to be heard. I understand why it happens, tours are expensive—but too often, it’s nothing more than a money grab. The same goes for ticket requirements. If there’s no national band on the bill, how can anyone realistically expect an out-of-town independent band to sell tickets in a city where nobody knows them yet? It’s backwards and unfair. What frustrates me even more is how some venues refuse to give new bands a chance. They’ll use the same handful of openers over and over, never letting fresh talent through the door. How can the scene grow if no one gets a shot?
I understand all of this because, in my own way, I live it too. I co-own and run a small production company called Obscurrus Diem Productions, or ODP as our fans and the bands have come to call us, in a small town in northern Michigan. We rely on ticket sales and our paychecks to make shows happen, and we’ve gone into debt to give these artists a platform. I work my day job alongside running ODP, and I do everything I can to take care of the bands we book. Whether it’s making sure they’re fed, covering their hotel, gas, their guarantee or just treating them with respect, I try my hardest because I know how hard it is out there and how much it means to feel like someone actually has your back. Over the years, I’ve been lucky to book quite a few independent bands and watch them grow, some eventually making it big. It’s a privilege to witness their journeys and to play even a small part in helping them be seen and heard.
One show that will always stick with me was when I booked Mick Blankenship for The National Trout Festival. I follow him, I love his music, and I believe in his music. He has real talent—no autotune, no AI gimmicks, just raw, actual skill. I wanted him to be paid and treated as the rockstar he is, even if he isn’t on a huge label. From the start, I made a promise: I’d take care of him and his band. I arranged hotel rooms. I made sure they had meals. I made sure they were getting paid. I wanted them to know they weren’t just another band passing through—they were valued. The turnout that night wasn’t what I hoped. Honestly, it could’ve crushed the spirit of a lesser artist. But not Mick. He hit that stage with everything he had, like he was playing to thousands. And the small crowd that showed up fed off that energy. They cheered like it was a packed house. By the end of the night, people were lined up at his merch table, shaking his hand, getting autographs, walking away as new fans. I filmed parts of his set, and when I watched it back later, I could see it clearly—the fire in his performance, the raw passion that makes someone a true musician. That’s why I still support him to this day. I even pay a monthly subscription to his website. For me, it’s $10 a month—not much at all. But imagine if a thousand people subscribed like that. That’s $10,000 a month—enough to fund a tour, record a new album, or simply allow the band to keep going without drowning in debt. That’s the power of direct fan support.
Most people don’t realize just how expensive it is to be an independent artist. Renting a van or bus costs thousands of dollars per month. Gas is hundreds a day, depending on distance. Hotels, unless they’re crashing on floors, are a daily necessity. Gear needs repairs, replacements, and upgrades. Food is a basic cost every single day. Merch production, including shirts, CDs, vinyl, and shipping. It costs alot more than most people realize. And independent artists usually have no health insurance, meaning one unexpected medical bill could wipe out weeks of tour earnings. After all that, most tours come down to two outcomes: break even or fall into debt. And yet, they keep going, because they love music, because it’s who they are, because they believe in the songs they write, because it is their life.
Independent artists are the core of music. They are the ones who keep it raw, real, and alive. They remind us that music isn’t just a business—it’s a lifeline, a community, a way of connecting people who might never meet otherwise. Since 2009, I’ve seen their struggles and their victories. I’ve seen a band win over a tiny crowd like it was a sold-out stadium. I’ve seen passion that money can’t buy and dedication that contracts can’t fake. That’s why I’ll always stand with them.
If you love music, don’t just stream it, support it. Go to local shows, buy the merch, subscribe to their websites or Patreon pages. Even $10 a month makes a difference. Imagine what it could mean if a thousand people did it. Share their posts on social media, share their videos with your friends, tell someone about the band you just discovered. The truth is, it takes a crowd to raise an independent. Without us—the fans, the listeners, the believers—these artists don’t stand a chance. But with us, they can build careers, communities, and legacies. At the end of the day, independent artists are the heartbeat of music, and if we don’t lift them up, we risk losing the very soul of it.
Peace, Love and Loud Music,
Mickey 🎵🤘
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