By Stacy Lee Kong

Tia Gordon has always loved music—and perhaps more importantly, musicians. From landing her first music writing gig at the age of 17 to now building her own artist management company, she's allowed her fandom for hip hop and R&B—and her curiosity about artists' inspiration and creative processes—to shape her career choices. We recently chatted about how the Canadian music industry even works (spoiler: no one really knows), why award shows matter, the truth about TikTok virality and everything else I could think to ask her about the music business, tbh. P.S., for some insight into how cool Gordon is, please know that I didn't ask my first actual interview question until we'd been on Zoom for 10 minutes... and then we talked for another hour and a half despite the fact that an artist she's working with—indie singer, songerwriter and rapper B.Rob—was dropping a project that same day. Read on for a (condensed, don't worry) transcript of our chat.

Let's talk career journey. How did you get to where you are right now?

Do you want the long version or the short?

I always want the long version. I am an A-to-Z storyteller and I always want A to Z back.

Okay, so when I was fresh out of the womb... No, I'm just kidding. I won't go back that far. But I think I can give you a more granular timeline that started when I was 17. So, I was a theatre kid all through middle school and high school, but as I came to the close of high school, I was like, 'What the fuck am I gonna do?' because [I had been told], if you're going to be an actor, you're gonna have to work seven jobs and bus tables—and you still might not ever make it. But, I knew that I loved writing and helping people. So for whatever reason, in my 17-year-old mind, I was like, okay, psychology or journalism. How I arrived there, I couldn't even tell you. But in my senior year, I took a co-op so I would have the opportunity to explore journalism, which landed me at this business newspaper. I was really grateful at the time because I was getting published at 17, which was fire. But... I hated it. I hated every second of it. Thankfully, the office shared a space with a magazine. It doesn't exist anymore, but it was called What's Up Canada, and the editor started assigning me stories, including my first-ever music assignment, which was to interview this artist named Conor Maynard. That assignment really set the tone for everything. After that interview, I realized, Oh, this is actually the lane of journalism that I would like to explore; this is it for me.

Around that time, I found out that I didn't get into the university program that I wanted. But I had this immense pressure from my family to immediately go into post-secondary, so I ended up applying for radio at Humber. I got in, and the summer before I started that program, this random guy hits me on Facebook, and he's like, "Hey, I see you on Twitter talking about all the things you want to do in music and HipHop Canada needs a contributor. And, this radio show at Mohawk College actually needs another host. So whether you want one or both of those opportunities, it's up to you to take them." It was the artist John River. We had two mutuals on Facebook. I was like, "How the hell did you find me?" But that moment obviously changed my life. That was where I met all the artists that I know today, which I'm super grateful for.

Then, six months into the program at Humber, Flow 93.5, the only station that I cared about that was playing music that I listened to, got bought over. I'll never forget that day. I was sitting in class and they announced it, and I was like, 'I'm dropping out.' Because where the hell was I gonna go? I didn't see myself in the radio landscape. I wasn't going to Edmonton to intern at a country music station. Within a few weeks of that, I just stopped showing up to class. I started working at the mall and washing dishes at a restaurant, but I was still doing the radio show, which is where I met Devontée, who used to go by D-Bonez. He started telling me about this school that had an entertainment business management program. I looked up the school and I fell in love with the concept of the program. And, it was 15 minutes from where I was living at the time. So, I took a tour, applied, got in. And from there, I pretty much just decided I wanted to work in the music business rather than write about it. I realized that I wanted to be on the other side of the conversation.

Oh, that intense pressure! I don't think there was ever a moment in my entire life that I thought I wasn't going to university, you know? But that immediately makes me wonder, when you were like, 'Listen, radio is not for me. I'm not doing this,' how did your family react?

Oh, my god, I almost blew up my whole family when that happened. My parents never imposed this idea that I had to go to school. It was more of an unspoken thing. I mean, my dad was like, "You're good with computers; go learn coding," of course, like every immigrant parent. (My dad's from Jamaica, my mom's Canadian.) But the science-math path was never for me and they've always been supportive of me doing whatever. There were just the undertones of needing to go to school, because they wanted me to do well and be successful.

My parents are separated and when I dropped out, I was living with my mom. I don't even know if I told her that I wasn't going to class anymore. I just stopped going. And my dad? I definitely never told him. But I did confide in my Jamaican grandma... which was a mistake. I was like, "I stopped going to class and I dropped out. It was not for me. But please don't tell dad, because I just haven't found a way to tell him yet." And, of course, she told him. My dad didn't talk to me for a very extended period of time.

But in essence, I only took six months off of school, because I dropped out by December and I was back in school by August. And I had just turned 19, so there were only so many expectations you could have of me, especially as somebody who had actually really started my career, and I didn't even really realize it. They're over it now, though. It's fine.

I'm always so curious about the impacts of those kinds of decisions because I'm always worried about disappointing people, even now. So, hearing you say, 'No, not only do I know that this is not the right thing for me, but I'm actually going to take the time to figure out what the right thing is,' is so impressive, especially at 19. I don't know that I would have had the maturity to recognize that. Actually, I think I would have seen it through because I felt like I had to, even if it was the wrong thing, even if it cost more money in the long run, because I'd want to avoid 'negative repercussions.'

Yeah, there were hella negative repercussions. I don't know what it was in my spirit that told me to make the shift. But I think what was most important was that between June 2012 and June 2013, I had actually discovered my passion, right? So for me to know that I would have had to go through another year and a half of a program that I wasn't going to use? I was like, 'Nah, bro. This doesn't make any sense to me.' But then the other piece is, I'm a middle child. My older sister works for 911, my younger sister has her master's and then here's the kid that wants to do theatre and music. So, I don't think they ever looked at me as a lost cause. I think they just very cautiously said, "Okay, if that's what you want."

What did you do after you completed the entertainment business management program?

My first actual music industry job was at FACTOR, the Foundation Assisting Canadian Talent On Recordings, which is one of Canada's largest, if not the largest, granting bodies that facilitates funding artists' projects. They get money for their actual recording, for marketing, for touring, for music videos, for radio. I started at the front desk. This was during a period of time where I was becoming increasingly vocal about the flaws that I saw in this system. One of my greatest mentors and supporters of all time, Allison Outhit, eventually positioned me in a way that afforded me the opportunity to be an outreach assistant, so I could go talk to artists who didn't even know FACTOR existed. I was really focused, and still am, on hip hop and R&B artists, and I had a lot of conversations that brought people into the fold or helped them understand how to apply. Then, I went to work at Arthaus, which at the time was a growing record label, but it was founded in management. They had Serena Ryder, Mike Sonier—they ended up signing Adria Kain while I was there. And then the pandemic hit and I lost my job, and I spent six months riding my bike, laying in parks and it was great. Shout out to Justin Trudeau for funding that.

Before COVID, I was a participant in the RBC Launchpad Music Entrepreneurship Program, and during the pandemic, they gave me the option to interview either Kerry “Krucial” Brothers, a producer who has worked with Alicia Keys, Drake and Rakim, or Abe Batshon, who is a CEO and founder of a platform called BeatStars. When I looked into BeatStars, I was like, "This is kind of cool. I want to talk to him, because I've never heard about this before." So, I did the interview for the program with him... and then after the fact I was like, "Y’all hiring?" I ended up getting a job offer for a playlist manager role on my 26th birthday, and from there I moved into the music opportunities department, so I was basically building out the partnerships and contesting for the platform. Now, I'm building out my own management and artist services company called West Facing. My ultimate goal is to be an artist manager. That's what I'm most passionate about, and it's how I can do everything I want to do, because when you're a manager, you're not just managing, you're doing the creative, you're setting up the press, you're building the marketing, you're taking the big business meetings, all that stuff. I literally want to touch everything.

Okay, can I just say that just hearing you talk about what you want to do and why you want to do it is illuminating, because I am realizing that a) there are so many things about this industry that don't really serve everyone and b) there are so many facets to this business that I didn't even know about. Like, how does this thing even work?

I don't know. And I don't think anybody knows how it works, for real. Somebody told me that the music industry is a people business and I think that that has always stuck with me, because it doesn't matter how much tech you have involved, or how many connections you have involved, I think it always boils down to the fact that you just need very solid relationships to make your shit move. When we were emailing, you asked me how it differs from what we see on TV and I think specifically in Canada, I wouldn't say that there's as much glitz and glamour as is portrayed. Obviously, artists or business people have their really fancy moments but I think the reality of it is, there's a lot of hard work, there's a lot of antagonism, there's a lot of people in your ear. That's the basis of it—it's a people business, and it works in an ecosystem of sharing and communication and who gets to hear what's communicated. And, I think the discovery process and the sharing process doesn't look the same throughout every single project. Does that make sense?

It totally makes sense. Even when I was trying to do research to come up with questions for you, it was very confusing. It seems very dependent on like, where you are and what type of music you're making. I mean, I've read so much about how TikTok has the power to totally change an artist's life, but does TikTok discovery function the same way here as it does in the States? Is that even an analogous situation?

This conversation is funny to me, because I think that people are either in love with the ecosystem of TikTok or hate it as a discovery tool. Personally, I think TikTok is incredible for literally everything, but especially artists. But from a discovery or A&R perspective, I don't know if it's necessarily changed how people discover music, outside of the fact that now there are tools that are being built to facilitate that discovery ahead of an artist’s virality. So, labels or certain music companies or people who are really good at data scraping can see what's bubbling before it gains the traction that would make somebody viral or popular. But I don't think that it's any different from what we saw with Instagram 10 years ago, when people were so adverse to it and didn't want to use it as a marketing plan, because what if Instagram shuts down today? What are you going to do? Well, Instagram is still here. And I see the same thing for TikTok.

I think the one pitfall that we see is when artists are scooped up, but then there's no actual development put around them. In those cases, the difference between the online presence and the stage presence is going to be completely different. TikTok is a music company in its own right, of course—they have SoundOn, which operates as a distribution and monetization tool. But the essence of Tik Tok is community. So, you could have one song that goes viral, but the next one might not hit the same; it's hit and miss. So I think if anything, there's an opportunity to grow and build an audience, similar to how we put an emphasis on Instagram in the past. And if that leads them to the A&R scout of their dreams, then that's amazing. But it's just an additional tool. I don't think it's anything that necessarily makes or breaks success or discovery. I hope that answers the question.

It totally does. I mean, I don't know any of this, so I'm just fascinated by everything that you're saying. This also makes me think of this artist, Saint Levant, who I came across in 2021, I think, when you could see that he was very deliberately strategizing to go viral on TikTok, and who is now building a whole offline career. He just did a slightly cringe interview with the New York Times, and when I read it, I remember thinking, 'Oof, this is not landing the way you think it's landing.' I was actually really curious about who was advising him, because while his (and I'm quoting the NYT here) "trilingual loverman" shtick worked pretty well on TikTok, it's not necessarily being received the same way off the platform. Like, maybe there's a bit of a misunderstanding of who the audience is? Which is also how I feel about Chlöe Bailey working with Chris Brown. Like I don't know if Chlöe knows who her audience is, but they're not Chris Brown fans. You know what I mean? So, to echo what you've been saying, as much as it's about the music and the actual things that you are saying in your songs and the production, it's also about the brand management. 

Absolutely. And I just want to talk to that point. I think when people who may not necessarily be directly in the music industry think about these artists, especially ones that are seeing big opportunities and recognition, there's a misconception that they have a huge team. I can't tell you how many artists that I've talked to that are technically big, but it's either just them, or it's them and a manager, or it's them and a homie who are just trying to figure shit out.

Obviously, it differs if we're talking about an artist who's in a major label situation, because then they have all these departments and all these hands who touch everything. But even then, maybe missteps get made because sometimes everyone is not as hands-on as they should be. But when we're talking about an artist like this, maybe they don't have a publicist. Maybe it's just their manager. There's a lot of elements that I think people don't think of, especially when we're talking about artists who go from having 15 followers to 15 million.

I think like a perfect example of that is somebody like Ice Spice. Like you drop "Munch" and now you're hanging out in the Kardashian house? Make that make sense. You can't. So there's a lot of things that have to happen very quickly, because now she's a sweetheart and now everybody loves her. But her team is small. You know what I mean?

Yes. Honestly, whether it's Saint Levant or Ice Spice, it truly did not occur to me that they might not have the size of team that I thought! I’ve read enough about the music industry to understand that there are pitfalls to the major label route as well, but this also worries me, because when these people get so big but they don't have any support, that feels like throwing them to the wolves. Especially now, when media savvy is so important.

That overnight success thing because of TikTok is so real. Some people just simply are not ready and they just have to figure it out, but it's hard to watch when they're figuring it out in front of everybody. I can only imagine how somebody who just threw up a cover in their bedroom feels when there's 20 million people looking at them the next day.

Can we talk about the perception that you can't actually be successful if you stay in Canada? This is obviously a thing in lots of industries, not just music, but I really want to know a) if you think that was ever true/if it's true now, and b) why you didn't go to the States. 

Girl, I didn’t go to the States because somebody has to sponsor a visa! The first opportunity to leave, I'm actually taking. And in that, I think two things can be true. It depends on what kind of artists or what kind of business person we're talking about, right? There are opportunities for artists who are making Black or brown music elsewhere. The people working in these spaces will have less of an opportunity to be successful here, just based on how the systems are structured and the demographics of Canada in general. And the reality of it is, if you're trying to make a space for yourself in another market, maybe the U.S. or Europe, those markets actually have more of an influence on success than we do here. So, being able to bring that back in your back pocket, it's almost like you've proven your method and that you can execute. So now, people are going to listen to you or now people are going to prop you up, or support your music, or your business venture or whatever the case is. That's just the disconnect.

Another thing I had mentioned when we were emailing is whether the resources and opportunities that are available in Canada actually do get applied equally, and this is kind of what I was thinking of when I asked that, because it just doesn't seem that way.

I think the simple answer is no, they aren't. I think when they are, it's because of maybe an imposed quota or an expectation so that the organization doesn't receive backlash, right? Or they have to report to a funder. And I say this with the understanding that there's always people in spaces who obviously see the vision, but then they're not championed internally. And that just lends itself to the conversation of why artists leave to begin with.

It's unfortunate, too, because not everyone can leave. Not everyone can up and go spend six months in L.A. or whatever the case is. And obviously, there's an extra amount of hustle that's always going to be applied to any Black or brown person doing anything. That being said, I do think that there are a lot of spaces that are opening up to kind of level that out, and people who are leading initiatives that support these artists, so shout out to Advance, they're paving the way for Black music professionals to actually get into the music business. Aisha Wickham and her team at Ontario Creates have been spearheading some really incredible programming to make sure that Black music professionals can actually get funding and support, and even changing what the guidelines would typically look like in a funding body to afford them the opportunity to get their businesses off the ground. And obviously, there's more efforts being made across some festival and award show programming. I still think that there's an immense amount of work to be done there, so I can't clap for them. But there are changes happening and spaces opening up. I just think that Canada is probably years away from really seeing any support for the type of artists you and I listen to.

Actually, speaking of award shows. I feel like I have the same award show conversation every year—like, these are flawed institutions that are not always going to do a good job of highlighting the artists that I want them to highlight, but we should still pay attention to them. But what do you think? Are conversations about the value of award shows even useful from your perspective?

When it comes to award shows, I try to maintain as positive as an outlook as I can, knowing that the systems are flawed, like you said. But I can also understand that the way the industry is structured, an award nom or a win, and the attention and press that comes from those things, matters. Like, when an artist is applying for a visa, you need to have X amount of press that's tailored specifically to you in order to even be considered. How many awards you have garnered nationally and internationally—those things can make or break somebody actually being able to go where their music is supposed to live. So I think, whether it's a Grammy or a Juno, knowing that could be the make or break, we can't deny that there's importance and value to them, regardless of what the systems behind them look like. And they will have that value until there's something else in place that is supported equally. But then when you see people try to build their own award shows, they're not getting the same support. So the only answer is for the people who have the opportunity to make the change to just make the change and not be so adverse to it.

That's why, when I look at the Grammys and I see an artist who may be snubbed on a nom or a win, I'm like, 'Damn, that really sucks.' But in the same breath, I'm not as concerned for them because I understand that they are multimillionaires with hundreds of millions of streams and X amount of monthly listeners. But when it comes to the Junos, I'm like, this is really the difference between somebody even knowing who this artist is at all. Doja Cat getting snubbed for an award is not going to kill her career. That girl is going to be fine. But someone from Canada who may have never been nominated before, that's going to change things.

I also think there's the personal impact, too. I know how it feels to work in an industry where I don't know if the decision-makers see my value. I know how discouraging that is, I know how sad it has made me to think, 'Oh, I'm good enough to hire freelance, but you don't think I'm good enough to publicly claim and support and uplift and publicize. You don't think I'm good enough to actually give real power to.' All of those things have professional consequences, but they also have personal consequences.

Absolutely. I don't think receiving recognition is a top-tier requirement for a lot of people, but you can't tell me that shit doesn't feel good when it comes from your peers. You want your peers to see the work you're doing. And especially when you're talking about an entertainment industry, you're doing work to be seen. So to be okay with not being seen? I don't really buy it. But I also understand that it's a different lens when you see institutions continuously miss the mark, so the impact of that recognition may be diminished a little bit more. But it doesn't mean that if you saw your name on that screen, you're not going to be happy, or that your parents who don't understand a single thing about what it is that you do in your career, won't be happy. Obviously, I'm speaking very broadly, but...

But I think it is a reality, especially when you're talking about racialized people, and specifically people from immigrant backgrounds. Like, my parents have no idea what I do every day. My mom calls me and she's like, "What are you doing?" Well, what do you think? I'm working! And I can see that she's thinking, "Are you though?" Not because she doesn't believe me, but because I don't work in a way that feels familiar to her. But when she sees me on TV, or she sees my byline in a print publication, those things so matter.

Yeah, man, the first time I did an interview with ET Canada to talk about the Junos, that was the thing for my dad. Or I interviewed T.I. and I got a picture and this man showed everybody he could. And after that, he didn't say much to me about the vein of my career. So I mean, for some people, they want their fans to love them. They want the music to do well, they want to see the tours fill out. But some people want to be able to put that award on their parents' wall.

Going back a little bit, even as we acknowledge that it's going to take time to build, I was really glad that you mentioned the people who are actually working to make change. What else are you excited about in Canadian music right now?

Damn, man, it’s looking bleak out here. What I'm really excited about, that I'm seeing for Canadian artists specifically, is more pathways to international recognition. We're seeing artists start getting picked up for like the artists to watch conversations via Apple Music, Spotify, SoundCloud. Like, I don't know if you're familiar with Lu Kala, but she's been at her career for so long and she's shapeshifted her sound. She just got a feature on Latto's new song, "Lottery," and that shit went viral.

She just performed at the Billboard Women in Music event and she's getting so much love at home. RAAHiim was recently highlighted among Spotify's R&B artists to watch. A couple of years ago, SoundCloud spotlighted Charmaine as an artist to watch, which is a big deal. She was the first Canadian, I believe. I don't know what tide has turned that has afforded people the opportunity to make these connections and impressions. I know that their teams are working very hard, but it's also just great to see that people are putting a spotlight on Canadian artists. Those are the moments that I'm excited about. For me, everything else feels mad local, so I don't know if I can be as excited about it as I want.

Okay, last question: who are the artists that you think everyone needs to be listening to right now?

The list is so long. I've loved Chiiild for years now. I would call him an alt R&B artist, and he's also a producer. Fucking incredible. I love Lou Val. Again, maybe alt leaning but definitely more R&B. Very fucking fire. I love Liza. I love Loony. Shameless plug: B.Rob. The only reason I wanted to work with B.Rob was because I was a fan. Rhyan Douglas hasn't dropped any music yet, but if you get a chance to catch him live, do it. I'm so obsessed with him. I love Friyie, NorthSideBenji, Salvatore Paradise, Dylan Sinclair, Kyle Wildfern, Idman, Grier Munro, Derin Falana. Those are some of the people that I think people should be looking at, and showing up to their shows, and listening to the music and adding it to their playlists.

Thank you for reading this week’s Club Friday Q&A! Still looking for intersectional pop culture analysis? Here are a few ways to get more Friday:

💫 Subscribe to the (free) weekly newsletter, or join Club Friday, our paid membership program. Members get early access to Q&As with pop culture experts and Friday merch, as well as other fun perks.

💫 If you’d like to make a one-time donation toward the cost of creating Friday Things, you can donate through Ko-Fi.

💫 Follow Friday on social media. We’re on Instagram, Twitter, Facebook and (occasionally) TikTok.