Being an artist has always been a risky career move, art and commerce being not quite a Venn diagram with “money” comfortably in the middle. After 12 years of government cuts, the pandemic and the effects of Brexit becoming apparent, musicians in the UK now face a cost-of-living crisis and report unprecedented difficulties in continuing to have a fruitful creative life in 2023 and beyond.

“Moving forwards in this industry is a fog,” Lunn says. “No one has any idea what’s coming and how to make a living. It’s an existential situation to be in, only being able to see being in a band for the next matter of months – a general sense of uncertainty is not conducive to creativity.”

The indie artist Låpsley says that, at various points in her career, she has found herself “running a business on the brink of insolvency” with constant cash-flow issues. “Despite the up-front advance payments you receive upon signing a record or publishing deal, after paying management, tax, London rent, living costs, a mounting pile of invoices and a cash-flow issue rolling over from previous tours, it doesn’t get you very far,” she says. “If this headache was the size of the Marble Arch Mound pre-Covid and pre-Brexit, it’s now humming nicely at the top of the Shard.”

The situation Låpsley found herself in releasing an album during the pandemic – her second, Through Water – was similar to that experienced by every musician who chose, at their peril, to make, sell and promote their work then. “With no tour, no promotional trips, no TV opportunities, challenges to radio and a ban on all travel, my business took a financial hit,” she says.

When she couldn’t recoup the money used to create the record, she and her record label parted ways. “Back to square one,” she says. “With two critically acclaimed albums under my belt, money was tight. I moved out of my South Tottenham studio and moved back to my parents up north.”

This isn’t just the reality for DIY and early-career artists. It’s also affecting ones at the top of their game. Last year, the Mercury Prize-winning artist Little Simz cancelled her US tour citing financial unviability. We’re only now seeing the results of Brexit with artists struggling to cover costs to tour even closer to home, in mainland Europe. In July, the UK’s music industry demanded politicians work to make touring in the EU feasible again after Brexit created expensive restrictions, but we are yet to see any movement on that.

“Europe is so much kinder to musicians, especially touring musicians, so making it even harder to get out there is especially cruel,” says Mr Jamie Lenman, who has been a touring musician for nearly 22 years. “Historically, it’s been tough for me to get overseas and make a real impact. Every time I get a foothold, something happens – my band splits up, my agent leaves, there’s a global plague. Brexit is just the latest hurdle, and possibly the biggest one yet.”

Rising inflation and general touring costs – petrol, tour buses, hotels, flights – mean that American artists are put off attempting it, too. Last autumn, Santigold and Animal Collective cancelled their European tours because they couldn’t make them economically viable.

Meanwhile, the cost-of-living crisis means artists of all stripes are increasingly multi-hyphenates, relying on multiple sources of income to survive. Lenman is an illustrator, Lunn has a studio and works as a producer – though he’s having to do so at much reduced rates for struggling musicians – and Låpsley is a jobbing writer. Their other musician friends are doing everything from teaching to stacking shelves to other jobs within the music industry.

“This will greatly slow down the production of music and touring,” Lunn says. “People are being multi-hyphenates now out of necessity, not choice. And it doesn’t just take a toll on your creative output; it takes a toll on your family life as well.”

The obvious and most straightforward aid to musicians today would be to better regulate streaming platforms, whose royalty systems mean that, broadly speaking, millions of streams translate to only £2,000 or £3,000. “Change the way in which artists are paid and you are directly supporting them to continue,” says Låpsley. “In my opinion, this can only be achieved through legislation.”

This would be the way to help artists globally, including those in the US, who, while not directly impacted by Brexit, are equally affected by low incomes from streaming. There is something deeper at the heart of this: a mentality that devalues art and artists at every turn, an inverse of the Classical and Romantic eras, where creators were seen as people who shared self-knowledge, appreciated members of a commonwealth.

In a functioning society, creative people should have the right to self-express and release pain in the way they see fit. Lunn sees his live work as a crucial part of working out his identity. “As someone who has borderline personality disorder and has a very difficult time self-identifying and living in the moment, when I’m onstage playing songs I’ve written, it’s one of the few times in my life where I get to feel like I’m not wearing a mask,” he says. “It almost feels like a purposeful policy by [the British government] to silence that kind of experience, to deprive people of that self-knowledge that they might gain through expressing themselves.”

A serious attempt at fixing all these difficulties for musicians would mean something more fundamental than laws, concessions and bursaries – it would take a fundamental change to our shared psyche. We would have to see artists as not just workers, but as a vital frontline workforce digging deep, crafting and performing for the benefit of us all.