Andy Saunders has seen the music industry at its messiest.
As founder of Velocity Communications – celebrating its 25th anniversary this year – he’s spent decades building stories and shaping strategies for some of music’s most prominent companies. But there’s another side to his work that rarely gets discussed over polite industry lunches: crisis management for artists whose worlds have suddenly imploded.
“My first question is always, ‘Did you do it?’” Saunders tells MBW. “I have to be 100% confident they’re telling me the truth. Because if you don’t tell me the truth, I can’t help you.”
It’s a stark opening to our conversation, but it gets to the heart of what Saunders does when he’s not promoting the latest signing or industry deal. He’s on speed dial for artists (and their reps) when accusations surface on social media, when tabloids come knocking, or when a moment of poor judgment threatens to derail everything they’ve built.
Saunders’ ‘reputational management’ clients fall into two distinct categories: (i) those who’ve been falsely accused of misdeeds and need their reputations defended, and (ii) those who’ve genuinely transgressed and need help navigating the consequent fallout.
As you’d expect, this sees Saunders wade into challenging territory. Yet he’s steadfast about his moral boundaries. “I never wanted to be Max Clifford; I do not defend the indefensible,” he says. “If you’re a racist, a rapist, or an abuser, I don’t want to know you, let alone work with you.”
With typical straightforwardness, he adds: “You can’t come back from something unforgivable that harms another person. You can come back from being a fucking idiot.”
Below, Saunders discusses the moral lines he won’t cross, the strategies that actually work in crisis situations, and why social media has fundamentally changed the game for anyone in the public eye…
You work with artists accused of serious things, but you say there are strict moral limits to the cases you take on. What are those limits?
I’m very clear on this: I don’t defend racists, I don’t defend rapists, and I don’t defend abusers. I could take the lawyer/solicitor view – ‘everybody deserves a defense’. But I’d be lying to myself. Some people, some actions, are indefensible.
My role is to mitigate situations for people who have made genuine mistakes, or who have been falsely accused. I’m here to work with artists to articulate an apology if needed. And I’m here to help them navigate the bad actors in the media who wish to exploit their fame – their ‘fall from grace’ – for clicks.
I’ve turned down much more of this work than I’ve taken on. Why? Because I’ve got a wife and daughter, because I’ve got a diverse group of friends, and because I like to think I’m a reasonable, decent human being.
What gives you the confidence that an artist is being falsely accused – that they’re not lying to you?
First, I look them in the eye and say: ‘Did you do it?’ And even if they then say no, I ask: ‘What were the circumstances behind this even becoming an accusation?’
If, at the end of that conversation, their story seems credible, I begin a process of evidence building. That can be as simple as internet research or as complex as working closely with lawyers and private detectives.
One of the most serious cases I ever took on was a rock band who were accused, via an anonymous social media account, of assaulting one of their fans. This account basically said: ‘They assaulted my friend at this particular hotel in this particular town.’ But having conducted research in tandem with the band’s management, we concluded it couldn’t be true.
Meanwhile, the [accusatory] tweet was getting amplified, and the band’s career was suddenly in free fall. Cover shoots were drying up, gigs were being cancelled and people were piling in on social media with comments like “I always thought they looked like wrong ‘uns”.
We were eventually able to identify the person behind the anonymous account, and they agreed to post a public apology, having confirmed the information they received was incorrect. The band then asked their fans not to bully this person, accepted the apology, and everyone moved on.
It blew over, causing rapid but limited damage. But it’s not an exaggeration to say that if it wasn’t dealt with quickly, it could have destroyed careers and lives.
Anonymous accusations online are a uniquely modern issue: anyone can publicly accuse anyone of anything via social media while masking their identity.
Social media has made people lonelier than ever. When we interact with other people through our devices more than we do in real life, reality can become a bit blurred. We’re certainly seeing that with AI and ‘deepfakes’ now.
Social media allows you to easily ‘other’ people, to treat them as commodities or one-dimensional beings. It’s also gamified outrage in a way that can incentivise people to stretch the truth – or forget it entirely.
People who lack agency and power in their own lives can see it as a way of attracting attention or being in the spotlight. It makes them feel like they have influence.
What about when artists have done something wrong? One pop star you worked with a few years back broke Covid rules, which quickly became tabloid fodder.
Reassurance is a massive part of what I do, taking the heat out of the situation. When someone is in the middle of a reputational crisis, it’s usually the worst day of their life. It’s easy to lose perspective when all that’s going through your mind is: ‘What the fuck am I gonna do?!’
My job is to put a metaphorical arm around their shoulder and say, ‘You’re not the first person this has happened to, and you’re unlikely to be the last. Let’s not allow emotion get in the way of pragmatism.’
“I always tell clients who are in that initial panic mode that shouting ‘it’s not fair!’ is not a strategy.”
After that, the solution can be as simple as issuing a statement: ‘I shouldn’t have done this; I apologize.’ And meaning it!
In the Covid artist story you’re talking about, the transgression – serious though it was – was being made out by certain media outlets to be the end of the world, when anyone with half a brain could see that wasn’t the case. Once everyone understood the dynamics of that, our strategy fell into place.
I always tell clients when they’re in that initial panic mode that shouting, ‘It’s not fair!’ is not a strategy. You have to work out what you need to communicate and who you need to communicate it to, and then execute.
Is it true that you’re working with Kneecap – the Irish band who’ve attracted media criticism for their pro-Palestine statements, as well as some troubling public comments made in years gone by?
I know it’s boring, but I won’t confirm or deny working with any clients. I will say this about Kneecap: I’m pleased to see they have held their hands up, and openly regret, some of the stupid – potentially illegal – things they have said in the past. At the same time, I’m pleased to see they’ve doubled down on the political viewpoints they fundamentally believe in.
Those are two separate issues that were in danger of becoming conflated in the narrative.
It doesn’t matter if you strongly disagree or strongly agree with Kneecap’s political statements. Artists have always had the freedom to say uncomfortable things, and I support every artist’s right to do so. I also support everyone’s right to challenge those statements.
“Artists have freedom to say uncomfortable things. I support their right to do so.”
We’re a poorer society when we start clamping down on freedom of expression from any political ‘side’. ‘Cancellation’ in that way is pure cultural cowardice.
I remember being upset about Morrissey [writing about and using imagery connected to] Myra Hindley. But I still support his right to do it. If we start cancelling artists for expressing themselves, especially when they’re saying things we don’t like, where does it stop?
You mentioned working closely with lawyers on these cases. How does that play out?
Sometimes the lawyers actually bring the cases my way, especially if there’s potential media blowback.
I’m always comfortable getting referrals from lawyers that I have a lot of respect for, and who take the same approach to things that I do. Russells is a great example of that, and I particularly like working with their litigation specialists Steven Tregear, Dan Hoyle and Eliot Leggo.
Working with lawyers can lead to really interesting philosophical conversations about why we’re doing it, what we’re doing it for, and what we’re hoping to
achieve. Sometimes I help them soften the litigation edges, and they give me a much clearer framework in which to operate. In certain circumstances, the communications element – the public message – becomes just as important as the court filings.
I’m an artist falsely accused of something – or in hot water over a mistake. What are the first three things you’d advise?
1) Tell me everything. Why would this person even think of accusing you? It won’t go outside this conversation; you can NDA me if you want. But I have to know everything, because without all the facts on the table, there’s no route to properly figuring a way out of this.
2) Don’t comment. Don’t respond. Don’t post. Don’t do anything until we figure out the plan. I know every fibre of your being wants to post on social media ‘I DIDN’T DO THIS!’ but if you do, you could fan the flames, especially if it’s becoming a national or international media story.
3) Do you need to apologise? If you do, don’t fake it. I’m not going to just give you a template ‘Yeah, sorry about this’ statement. First, you’re going to appreciate why you need to apologise. Then you’re going to tell me why you’re apologising, in authentic language – and what you’ve learned from this experience. Then we go from there.
When executives fall from grace
While much of Andy Saunders’ crisis work involves artists, he’s equally experienced in managing reputations for music industry executives who find themselves in hot water. The dynamics, he says, are fundamentally different from artist cases.
“With executives, the first thing you have to understand is the corporate reality,” Saunders explains. “Artists can’t really get ‘fired’ – executives can.”
He adds: “I had one particularly high-profile exec case in the past few years, a classic ‘my life’s ended, what am I going to do?’ situation. I had to tell him, ‘There’s no way your company allows you to survive in your job after this. Yes, you haven’t harmed anyone. But you’ve been stupid, and your employer won’t protect you at all costs.’
The strategy then shifts from damage limitation to planning for the future, says Saunders. “Once they’ve accepted the reality, which isn’t always instant, you can have a more honest conversation about how they can come back from it – and how long that’s going to take.”
Working with American lawyers on executive cases brings additional complexity, particularly in what Saunders calls “adversarial situations” between US competitors or former partners.
“When I’ve worked with music industry professionals who’ve found themselves in a legally adversarial situation with a company, it’s really important that they have a narrative that will play well with the judge and/or jury,” he says.
“Sometimes, in the US especially, the best way to push that narrative into the wider world is actually through court filings. There are specific circumstances where, if you get the messaging right, court filings can be the best ‘press release’ you could hope for.”
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