Forging Power in the Freelance Music Community

January 1, 2026

John Acosta  -  AFM IEB Member and President, Local 47 (Los Angeles, CA)

After years of performing in nightclubs, bars, restaurants, and recording sessions that paid more in promises than in actual checks, I’ve come to see the freelance music world differently. What once looked like a smattering of gigs and side hustles now feels like something bigger, an incredible labor force that holds up an entire industry.

Back in the ’90s, when I was recording on indie labels and chasing every paying gig I could find, I never thought of myself as a “worker.” None of my colleagues did either. We saw ourselves as artists just trying to make it, grateful for every opportunity, even when the pay was unstable or nonexistent. We didn’t even think about rights, and we definitely didn’t think we had leverage. Chaos was par for the course.

Today, as a longtime union officer, I have come to see things with new eyes. Not only are freelance musicians workers, but we are a mighty labor force, ready and willing to organize. You all know it, we create value for festivals, bars, restaurants, venues, streaming platforms, and record labels, yet we’re often treated like we’re replaceable. In many ways, we can be our own worst enemies! When Joe Blow Bar owner offers us $30 and a sandwich for a gig and we turn it down, there is always another musician ready to take $20 and no sandwich! We need to stop undercutting ourselves and agree that there must be a minimum wage for us, and it ain’t no freakin’ sandwich. If we want to build a real, modern labor movement in music, it has to start right where so many of us got our start: in the bars, the clubs, and the DIY scenes.

The first step is simple: we need to meet freelancers where they are. Don’t wait for them to come to a union hall. Club bands, singer-songwriters, jazz players, DJs, and indie producers live in WhatsApp groups, Discord threads, open mics, rehearsal spaces, and studio chats. Our organizers need to come from that same world, people who speak the language, and who know the hustle. And we have to offer real help upfront: contract templates that actually protect us, quick dispute resolution, gig protection, clear advice on rates and royalties, and guidance on health and safety. When the union shows up usefully, it starts to feel relevant.

After years of underpayment and disrespect, a lot of freelancers assume that no one’s coming to help. Changing that mindset means showing that we are the ones we’ve been waiting for. When people see others like themselves organizing, setting standards, and winning, it changes everything.

Local unions can hold listening sessions, form freelancer councils, and partner with community venues to set fair minimums. Even small wins—guaranteed meal breaks, cancellation fees, transparent payment schedules—send a powerful message: you don’t have to take whatever comes your way.

We also need to move with the times. Musicians today build careers on TikTok, Bandcamp, Patreon, and Twitch, and in home studios. We must fight for digital rights, fair streaming compensation, and protection against AI misuse, but also help musicians collect the royalties already owed to them. The same DIY energy that shaped the indie scene in the ’90s is alive and thriving and we should be right there with it, not chasing from behind.

Lastly, this can’t just be about contracts. It’s a cultural project. Musicians are storytellers by nature. If you think about it, organizing is another form of storytelling: it’s how we reclaim our dignity, our community, and our ownership of what we create. When musicians see organizing as part of their creative life, it stops feeling foreign and starts feeling personal.

I believe our future lives in the same places where so many of us began: the late-night gigs, the cramped studios, the noisy bars, and the backrooms where songs are born. If we organize there, from the ground up, we can build a movement strong enough to lift every musician from the orchestra pit to the corner stage.

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