Tucson musicians have never had more ways to share their music. Making a living from it is another matter.

Personal recording technologies have enabled musicians to record and release their own material on streaming services like Spotify, eliminating a dependence on record labels that would have been unthinkable decades ago.

"I would say music as a practice is far more accessible today than it ever has been before," said Riley, saxophonist for the Tucson-based band Andrew Candle. "But music as a respectable art form … I feel the barrier of entry is 'how genuine can you be?'"

Mass media and streaming services have turned music into a commodity that is more accessible than ever, providing seemingly unlimited songs from around the world in exchange for a nominal service charge, a charge that famously sees little to no return back to artists.

Spotify has been at the center of controversy for more than just the low royalties it pays out to artists. Most recently, musicians including Deerhoof, King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard, Xiu Xiu and others have withdrawn their music from the platform, citing Spotify CEO Daniel Ek's ties to Helsing, an artificial intelligence defense company, according to NPR.

The withdrawals reflect growing distrust of streaming platforms' ethics and business practices. Smaller bands still rely on Spotify for exposure, but those with the leverage to walk away are increasingly doing so.

Beyond streaming, bands face pressure to compete for attention on social media. Physical media persists among enthusiasts, but most people still discover new music online.

"You want to use the technology, if you're not a household name, to diversify yourself enough where you can get a fanbase outside of the local scene," said Jake Feinberg, a self-proclaimed "rogue journalist" and host of the Jake Feinberg Show podcast, which has featured interviews with musicians from across the country for 15 years.

Effective social media promotion often requires a label or digital marketing agency, but most bands lack the budget or profile to attract that kind of support, leaving them to handle PR on their own.

Labels that do come calling bring their own risks: strict deadlines, marketing driven by an attention economy, and creative control that can slip away fast.

"The machine takes over, and the next thing you know, all of your creative control is gone," Feinberg said. "They tell you what they want, and they make you what they want."

Some Tucson musicians are betting there's another way. Andrew Candle, a band of four musicians still in their teens and early 20s, is figuring that out one backyard show at a time.

"You try to be as flexible, socially, as possible," said drummer Nico Esparza. "And you need to be able to talk to anyone and everyone that's ever existed."

Esparza plays drums for Andrew Candle but stays practiced on bass and guitar for his other projects. He is currently in 11 bands.

Esparza's main project, Skin Theory, plays a high-intensity blend of math rock and Latin jazz-inspired prog-rock that has found audiences across the western Americas. A summer 2025 tour took the band through 24 shows in 32 days, up the California coast, through the Midwest, and back through Texas and New Mexico to Tucson.

Beyond his own projects, Esparza has made his house, the Sanctuary, a part-time venue capable of fitting a full band and more than 60 people in the living room.

The space helped build a dedicated Skin Theory fanbase, giving bands a crowd that was unfamiliar but genuinely listening.

Inspired by that model, Andrew Kandell and his bandmates are soundproofing a practice studio at Wildcat Storage, splitting the cost among themselves on restaurant industry wages.

"We have friends that are painters. They can come in and paint there," Kandell said. "We'll have movie screenings too."

Once the soundproofing is done, Kandell plans to rent the space to other bands at a minimal rate, with proceeds going back into studio expenses.

The impulse to build something communal rather than chase an algorithm runs through the scene.

"I personally feel like social media is a tough thing to overcome. Some people are really good at taking advantage of it, and some people are good at connecting with people through it," said Chris Monzon, director of entertainment and operations at Hotel Congress. "I don't like it. I don't like feeling compelled to share or self-promote, especially with the way the algorithm works. It can be really discouraging to their artistic approach."

Hotel Congress, built in 1919, lived through Prohibition and survived a fire in 1934. It is now one of Tucson's primary stages for local musicians.

The Century Room hosts late-night jazz, while Club Congress stages hardcore, hip-hop, country and whatever else defies easy categorization. The Cup Cafe keeps performers and crowds fed, and guests can sleep upstairs, ghosts permitting.

Last year, Monzon took over as booking agent for Hotel Congress after his predecessor, David Slutes, left to open his own venue, La Rosa.

"I actually think we've been sort of bouncing back," Monzon said. "People are sick of not connecting on a personal level."

When Monzon started at Club Congress in 2023, the venue was still pulling people back into social spaces after COVID-19. The harder challenge was the distance that had taken hold online as well.

"What I'm seeing nowadays is that people are more likely to go to shows if you reach out to people and connect to them on a personal level," Monzon said.

As crowds return, opportunities for local musicians are growing. But DIY bands have only two real ways to make money: merchandise and live shows.

Merchandise requires upfront investment, but burning CDs or printing shirts can generate a slow stream of revenue and build local presence over time.

Playing local venues is its own challenge. Opportunities exist across Tucson, but sustainable payouts are rare.

Running a music venue is a thin-margin business by nature.

"In some ways Che's Lounge is the perfect venue," Monzon said. The bar has a built-in audience, a supportive atmosphere and tends to pay better than most Tucson gigs, but bands are expected to bring their own sound engineer and equipment.

For bands looking for gear and support without the bar element, nonprofit Groundworks fits the bill, though it does not pay out.

Hotel Congress takes a different approach, with professional equipment, a full staff of booking agents, sound engineers and graphic designers, and the overhead to match. Elevated production costs mean higher stakes just to break even.

"Even with big shows, we might not break even on production costs vs ticket sales," Monzon said.

The economics push many musicians to play in as many bands as possible to maximize their opportunities.

Monzon paraphrased one of Thelonious Monk's "25 Tips for Musicians" to make the point:

"You've gotta be in the scene to be in the scene." Monk's original reads, "You've got to dig it to dig it, you dig?"

The point is simple but not shallow: showing up is the only way in.

"The key really is in connection," Monzon said. "You can't have a conversation with yourself and expect it to go anywhere."

Ian Davis is a Pima Community College student and Tucson Spotlight intern. Contact him at imdavis52023@gmail.com.

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