14.08.2025: UK Music Diversity Taskforce Chair Ammo Talwar MBE discusses why the music industry must get behind marginalised artists.

Listening to the ongoing debates around sex and gender identity rights where definitions shift as governments and policies change made me reflect on our responsibility to engage meaningfully in this conversation.

I feel we, as the music industry and leaders, must remind those we elect to help connect and build cultures of safety, purpose, respect and belonging.

My sector, music, is supposed to be the home of self-expression and rebellion. Unfortunately, it remains a place where certain voices are heard more clearly than others. LGBTQ+ artists, musicians from Black and working-class communities, and those who don’t fit traditional moulds still face barriers that shape their careers, often long before an audience hears a single note.

It may seem that progress has been made, and in some ways it has. Today’s LGBTQ+ artists, people like Lil Nas X, Sam Smith, Janelle Monáe, and Arlo Parks, have far more freedom to be open about who they are than those who came before. But that does not mean the path is clear. Behind the ‘Pink £’, rainbow-themed marketing, and seasonal diversity playlists, whether for Pride Month, Black History Month, or cultural festivals, many artists still find themselves boxed in by assumptions, limited by gatekeepers, or reduced to their identity rather than celebrated for their work.

It can be said that LGBTQ+ artists have it easier now, and compared to previous generations, they do. But it is worth remembering that people like Freddie Mercury, George Michael, Elton John, and Boy George achieved fame in a time when being openly LGBTQ+ could cost you your career. Freddie never spoke publicly about his sexuality. George Michael was outed against his will. Even Elton John only came out as gay years after first saying he was bisexual. These artists may have been icons, but they were also navigating a world that did not allow them to fully be themselves without consequence. Some artists today still are asked to tour in spaces that are not safe and welcoming for the amazing music made.

What has changed is visibility. LGBTQ+ artists are more visible now than ever. But visibility is not the same as acceptance. In many cases, LGBTQ+ is the current favourite flavour. These artists are expected to be ‘the face’ of queerness – marketable, digestible, and unthreatening, but overall, commercially attractive. For Black or working-class LGBTQ+ musicians, this pressure is even more intense. They face a double hurdle: fighting the limitations placed on them by both their identity and the structures of the industry itself.

Whilst we look at the barriers and discrimination on LGBTQ+ communities, it is important not to forget others who face the same. It is important not to turn this into a contest. Too often, discussions around discrimination fall into comparisons: who has it worse? Is it harder to be queer or to be Black? Is class a bigger barrier than gender identity? These are the wrong questions. Discrimination takes many forms that often intersect, and they all deserve to be taken seriously. What matters is not ranking the struggles but recognising that all of them prevent talented people from being heard.

One area where this balance has started to shift is on television. Programmes like The X Factor, The Voice, and Britain’s Got Talent have offered something the traditional industry often has not: a platform based on performance, not connections or image. They are not perfect, judging is still subjective, and audience voting reflects wider social attitudes, but these shows have helped change public perception of LGBTQ+ people in a lot of ways, opened doors for people who might otherwise be overlooked. LGBTQ+ contestants and working-class singers have found national audiences, often without the backing of major labels.

Still, appearing on television is only one step. The real question is what happens next. Many artists from these backgrounds struggle to maintain momentum once the cameras stop rolling. The music industry often lacks the long-term support structures to help them develop their careers, especially if they do not fit the mould of what a label sees as ‘commercial’.

What is needed is deeper change. That means more than booking queer artists for Pride events or signing one Black act to tick a diversity box. It means funding creative projects in underrepresented communities. It means mentoring schemes that support artists beyond London and major cities. It means putting people from diverse backgrounds in decision-making roles across the industry, from A&R to management, from festivals to radio.

The truth is, we do not know how many brilliant artists we have already missed because they never had the chance to be heard. Whether it is a trans folk singer from a small town, a working-class rapper with no studio access, or a non-binary guitarist told they are “too political,” the barriers they face are not about talent. They are about access.

Rather than comparing forms of discrimination, we need to focus on the structures that create them. Only by doing so can we begin to level the playing field. Music should be about sound, not stereotype. About ability, not identity. And about talent, not tolerance.

Because when we strip away the filters of bias, what remains is the music, and that is what deserves to be heard.