Wealth & Money Quote by Evan Dando

The line lands with a thud because it punctures one of pop culture's most persistent myths: that visibility equals wealth. Evan Dando, once the golden-haired frontman of the Lemonheads during the alt-rock boom, speaks from the awkward middle ground where recognition is high but margins are thin. A band can fill clubs, get radio play, and still barely cover the bills once the money gets sliced by labels, managers, agents, publicists, and the hard costs of touring. Vans, fuel, flights, gear, crew, per diems, hotels, insurance, and venue cuts turn a lively door take into a modest paycheck. Then the band members split what remains.

The economics reward a narrow tier of superstars and those who control songwriting and publishing. Many players, especially in democratic bands, survive on fees from the road. Even for the writer, recoupable advances, studio costs, and old label deals can swallow the bulk of recorded-music income. Streaming pushed the breakeven point further away, and catalog checks are rarely the windfall fans imagine unless a song becomes a perennial. Dando's career, marked by a brief mainstream flare with It is a Shame About Ray and enduring cult esteem, sits precisely where fame can be a financial trap: too big to be a hobby, too small to be secure.

There is also a quiet plea for empathy. When artists announce reunion tours, perform entire albums front to back, or license songs to commercials, audiences often sneer at cash grabs. But financial reality is frequently the subtext. Work is work, and for working musicians, the stage is a workplace, not a lottery ticket. Dando's candor reframes artistic choices as survival strategies rather than sellout moves. It hints at the fragile arithmetic behind beloved songs and the people who made them, reminding us that cultural value and market value rarely align, and that the applause does not pay the invoices.