How the rental crisis is threatening the UK’s music scenes

In the UK, each generation is uniquely defined by its artists. We depend on them to translate the woes of modern life into cultural criticism, satire or a cathartic escape from existence on an island plagued by rain 170 days of the year. Life can be bleak, but it’s always been soundtracked by a handful of talented musicians etching their interpretation of Britain into the zeitgeist. Yet, today’s cohort of young artists face bleaker conditions than their predecessors amid a worsening rental crisis – and it comes at a time when the arts are already experiencing a drastic wealth divide. 

This week, campaigners have criticised the government for further delaying the Renters Reform Bill, a significant piece of legislation that will outlaw Section 21 no-fault evictions. The bill was a 2019 manifesto commitment from the Conservative Party that has yet to be brought into law. Within that time, 26,000 households across the UK have been legally forced out of their homes for no reason, with only two months’ notice.

The rental crisis permeates British culture in 2024; stunting the maturity of young people unable to move out, forcing families out of cities leading to school closures, and putting record levels of children in temporary accommodation where standards are even lower than those of private rentals. Among a myriad of horrifying symptoms of the instability brought on by the rental crisis is the threat to the future of music in Britain – an industry that contributes £6.7 billion to the economy each year.

“Pursuing music is a very financially intensive job. Buying equipment, rehearsing, recording, promotion and touring is expensive,” says Lachlan Banner, drummer of Leeds psych-pop band Van Houten. “It becomes harder when a large portion of your pay packet is essentially paying for someone else’s retirement.”

Generation Rent, an organisation working to protect and amplify the voices of renters, outlines three main themes of the rental crisis: quality, affordability and security – each uniquely impacting the ability of artists to create music. Increased demand means little incentive for landlords to provide high quality housing, leaving tenants across the country to tolerate dangerous living conditions.

This has been the reality for Leanne Zammit, bassist of art-rock quartet ĠENN, who is currently battling the rental market in Brighton due to issues caused by mould and dampness in her current home. “It very directly affects my life and my ability to create as an artist,” she says. “A place that feels like home, or at least a safe haven from the rest of the world, is an important space for introspection, and where I get most of my songwriting ideas, so there’s a very direct link.”

In the UK, the average renter spends 37% of their monthly income on rent, often to live in these substandard conditions. It’s a stifling figure which rises to 40% in London, and has roughly doubled in the past 30 years. Outside of the capital, cities and towns previously deemed affordable for young creatives are also seeing a significant rise in cost-of-living. In 2022, the average rent in Manchester increased by 14.8%, while rents in Glasgow rose 13%. As a result, young artists have less time to perfect their craft due to a need to work longer hours.

They’re also increasingly forced out of city centres, where subcultures and scenes have historically emerged from. A recent report found that, despite its historical reputation as a musical hub, London now ranks in the bottom five UK cities for artist density, undoubtedly a result of skyrocketing rents. The same report found Bristol, where the average rent is 41% lower than London, to have the highest density of artists – though an 11% average rise in rent prices in the city poses a threat even to Bristol’s scenes. “It’s a terrible situation across the board,” says Conor O’Shea, Policy & Public Affairs Manager of Generation Rent. “Rental un-affordability is reaching record levels everywhere, and every demographic is in this problem,” O’Shea says.

Elsewhere, security is compromised in the form of Section 21 evictions, where tenants can legally be forced out of their homes through no fault of their own. For James Middleton, bassist of Manchester-formed Porij, this happened at a period between two tours, leading to heightened difficulty in finding a new place to live.

“I had to find somewhere with an overlap before the tour so I had enough time to move and deep clean the old place to get my deposit back,” he explains. “Paying double rent for that overlap was brutal, with nearly half my income going towards rent.”

Currently, a Renters Reform Bill is going through parliament to ban Section 21 evictions. Despite multiple delays, the government has pledged to follow through with the ban before the next general election, which Prime Minister Rishi Sunak suggested would be held in the “second half of 2024”. However, first it must undergo a lengthy parliamentary process, during which tenants are still at risk of random eviction and traumatic uprooting of their lives. “Getting evicted decimated any time I had to actually rehearse for touring, and to work on music,” Middleton says.

Combined, these issues paint a bleak portrait of renting in the UK right now. Of course this isn’t the first time the UK has faced economic strife, nor the first time artists have had to contend with harsh government policy. Yet while previous cultural movements in the UK – notably punk, the Teddy Boys and rock’n’roll – are often presented as emerging from periods of austerity, their existence is largely a result of affordable housing, free education and a generous welfare system.

“There’s this bleak landscape that framed punk, but it also became a site of possibility,” Matthew Worely, Professor of Modern History at the University of Reading says, outlining how low-cost-of-living in the ‘70s allowed the era-defining movement to form. “London hadn’t been taken over by the developers and turned into luxury flats. It was an affordable space to be creative.”

Post-war Britain forged a multitude of subcultures across the UK, including the New Romantics who capitalised on a then run-down central London. “There were lots of empty units which, if you have a little bit of imagination you can begin to take advantage of,” says Worely. “Boy George was living in a squat off Warren Street in the middle of London, and how much does it cost to live on Warren Street, nowadays? But then, people with ideas had the space and a little bit of support and importantly the time to create.”

“It’s dangerous to over romanticise that, because it’s not like people were flush or anything. They just had a little bit more flexibility, security and money and space to try something. And, if it fails, it’s not going to ruin you for life. Now, the connotations of trying something and failing is so much more expensive,” says Worley.

Subcultures like punk existed as a first, powerful exposure to politics for young people. This heritage lives on in British music today, recently evident in Stormzy’s 2018 utilisation of the BRIT Awards stage to criticise Theresa May’s handling of the Grenfell Tower fire, in which 72 people died and countless more were injured. Amid eras of economic and political crisis, young people depend on artists to make sense of the world around them – it’s a rite-of-passage integral to British identity. However, the crisis we need artists to soundtrack today may be the very thing preventing them from pursuing music.

And, crucially, much of the music constantly paraded by the government as examples of British ingenuity has come from working class communities: from the cultural phenomenon of Merseybeat in the ‘60s to grime, arguably the defining genre of the post-millenium era. So what does it mean for our country’s musical output when these same communities are priced out of the industry? “I think people will stop pursuing the arts in general, and the vibrancy of the national scene will dull,” suggests Tiger Cohen-Towell, vocalist of Nottingham alt-country band Divorce.

The Renters Reform Bill has the potential to introduce a shred of stability, but according to O’Shea there’s still a significant journey ahead. “This is such a long term and entrenched issue that it’s going to take a very long time before people have a better situation when it comes to housing,” he says. “We have to see more being built across the board. We need more council homes and we need to see governments that care that renters are being exploited and having such high proportions of their incomes being taken by landlords.”

So, if politics has informed the sound of the UK for each generation, this coming eras’ impact may be more closely defined by silence. Today, music is our greatest export on the world stage, allowing us to contribute to a larger cultural canon – just look at the current outpouring of Kpop tunes referencing UK pop. It’s a global conversation that will cease if young artists aren’t supported first and foremost as humans who deserve a safe, secure place to live. “We have something very special in Britain within the arts, and it seems like this government is doing all in their power to erode it,” says Cohen-Towell. “Safe and affordable housing is where it starts. It’s the bare minimum.”

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