How Travis Scott’s Fortnite Concert Will FOREVER Change The Music Industry
On April 23rd, over 12 million players logged onto Fortnite for Travis Scott’s virtual concert, setting an all-time record for concurrent players on the battle royal game. The 10-minute-long gig, which debuted the Travis Scott-Kid Cudi collab “THE SCOTTS” has been described by some attendees as a surreal experience “that could only exist in a virtual space.” The show, which can be streamed below, consisted of everything from astral explosions to trippy light shows, to a ginormous, shapeshifting avatar of Travis Scott flinging players into alternate dimensions.
The success of Scott’s psychedelic performance, prompted by an increased demand for virtual concerts amidst COVID19, signifies a paradigm shift in the concert business: one where video game developers, not record labels, have become the pioneers of “live” music, reshaping our definitions of what makes an entertaining performance. With the concert industry poised to lose over $9 billion in ticket sales from coronavirus, musicians are financially incentivized to team up with the gaming industry, even post-pandemic. Together, these two industries will innovate new solutions to music monetization, fan engagement, music marketing and more. But what will these structures look like?
Even before Travis Scott’s show, Fortnite developer Epic Games has led the way in building these structures. In February 2019, the company partnered with DJ Marshmallow, hosting its first ever virtual concert. Marshmallow’s concert, like Scott’s, only lasted 10 minutes and cost nothing to attend. 10.7 million players showed up to Pleasant Park to watch the performance.
Despite its free entry, the concert was insanely profitable. After Marshmallow’s performance, his music streams across platforms skyrocketed over 20,000%. As for Travis Scott, his streams rose 25% on Spotify alone, sending his album to No. 1 on Billboard’s Hot 100. Outside of streaming revenue, Marshmallow and Scott likely received a cut of the money made from in-game purchases of artist-themed skins and cosmetics. Even after Scott’s concert, attendees received an email encouraging them to buy more merch: $65 Travis Scott x Fortnite Nerf Gun, $75 action figures, etc.
While Epic Games has not commented on how much they made from Scott’s show, the company plans to continue its relationship with Scott and other musicians, reinforcing its role as key actor in the music industry, even outside of concerts.
On April 30th, for instance, Epic Games launched its new game “Legends of Runeterra” with a cinematic music video. The video was set to a remixed version of “Breathe” by Fleurie and prompted Youtube comments from users who were impressed by the musical masterpiece.
Beyond the humorous tone of these comments, there is a point: Riot Games has historically recognized the power of a good music collaboration. Not just for marketing purposes, but for artistic expression and bringing communities together.
Even two years before “Legends of Runeterra,” Riot Games joined forces with Madison Beer, Naira Burns, and (G)I-DLE members Miyeon and Soyeon. Together, these musicians formed League of Legends’ virtual pop quartet K/DA. This deal promoted the artists real life music careers, forged bonds between fandoms, and boosted the League of Legends’ platform all at once. That same year Riot Games signed a deal with the music distribution service FUGA to manage its League of Legends music catalogue.
But Epic Games isn’t the only gaming company making moves. In 2018, Minecraft developer Mojang threw “Coalchella,” their version of the popular music festival Coachella. Unfortunately, due to server constraints, only 3,000 players could attend the event; though the technological difficulties didn’t discourage the platform from putting on more events. In 2019, Minecraft creators snapped back with “Fire Festival,” a parody of the infamous Fyre Festival. This time, 5,000 players attended, with another 6,500 people joining the festival’s live Discord chat.
Obviously these numbers pale in comparison to Travis Scott’s virtual audience. However, attendees of both concerts have described pretty similar experiences.
“I might not have felt the music coursing through my rib cage while I listened using headphones, but the spike in my endorphin levels at well-placed drops or killer vocal edits was undeniable,” said Fire Festival attendee Lewis Gordan. “It made me question my own assumptions about how I respond to music physically.”
Gordan added that instead of “reinforcing our increasing isolation from [one] another, [the concert] brought everyone together in a way that felt genuine. Fire Festival offered a physical space (kind of) to its myriad artists who exist almost ethereally on Soundcloud and Twitter as the posters of weirdo rap edits.”
In the wake of COVID19, this desire for a virtual community has only escalated. In response, Mojang has upped its efforts to create these spaceless spaces. On April 24th, the company teamed up with the experimental music duo 100 gecs to host an online musical festival on Minecraft called Square Garden. The free event attracted 130,000 attendees and raised $50,000 for charity, a whopping success in comparison to past shows.
The hype continued on May 16th with “Block by Blockwest Festival,” an event that strived to “forge a hub of human connectivity in this time of social distancing.” The festival consisted of a series of live stream acts, competitive mini-games, a gallery of up-and-coming fine artists, and other interactive activities.
Like Travis Scott’s Fortnite concert, “Block by Blockwest Festival” experimented with alternative monetization models. Attending the festival was free, but Minecraft isn’t. The game is priced at around $27, about the cost of a concert ticket. The money-making scheme doesn’t stop there. In-game, players caould support their favorite acts by buying merch and in-game skins and cosmetics, too.
Mojang, like Epic Games, is still figuring out what monetization model works best for their platform. In doing so, the developers have drawn upon their predecessors like Second Life for inspiration, learning from the successes and failures of the early 2000s MMO.
On Second Life, anyone could host a concert — making money from either third-party “performance fees” or through tip jars and in-app payments from fans. Though hosting a concert was strenuous. You had to build an avatar, rent a server space, construct a venue, pre-record performances in the real world, then filter these performances into the virtual world. And lastly, pray that the performance doesn’t lag.
Unlike on Minecraft or Fortnite, Second Life concerts were rarely profitable. Most artists made less than $20 a set, with the luckiest making a few thousand dollars. But that was rarely because of the concert itself. Instead, it was a product of in-game publicity translating to the real world. For instance, Grace Buford earned $10,000 a year from in-game fan donations and CD sales that followed her performances. Other artists like Chamillionaire and Hinder received money from in-game merch purchases. Some musicians like Von Johin were even scouted on the app.
At the time, it seemed like virtual concerts were the “next frontier of touring.” But as Second Life declined in popularity, so did these claims. The virtual concert industry no longer seemed like a money-making move.
But things are changing now. As technology evolves, so have people’s desires. Younger generations are searching for new ways to experience music. For some, that’s listening to songs on streaming platforms like Soundcloud and Apple Music. For others, that’s watching a hologram concert of a virtual pop-star or their favorite dead celebrity. For others, it’s moving their digital bodies to the beat of a drum, fully immersed in a crowdless crowd. The latter is especially true for the 71 percent of Gen Z consumers that identify as “gamers.”
Clearly, there is a market for virtual concerts. And with COVID19, that market is expanding, becoming more and more profitable. But this paradigm shift is about so much more than money. It’s about a shift in the collective consciousness. A shift in our perception of isolation — of togetherness—and of how these digital spaces can bring us together, alone.
