TikTok Is The Medium, Music Is The Message
For artists like Landon Adler, the app known for viral kingmaking is a pit stop on the way to a career of tours and sold-out venues. We met up with him in L.A. to chop up some beats – the memes and TikTok’s music scene (Photo by Jordan Altergott)
Our collab with Landon features the “DJ Stormy Dad Hat,” available for a limited time — shop now.
The Troubadour is packed. My shoes peel off a spot of spilled drinks turned sticky. The crowd is a mixture of influencer faces that I recognize (but could never name) and genuine fans of the artists playing that night. Even Dance Moms star-turned-YouTuber Jojo Siwa walks in behind me at one point.
I’m here to see Landon Adler, an aspiring musician who’s found success on TikTok – combining his original music and an absurdist brand of comedy that parodies the platform’s trends. Tonight, he’s MCing a showcase night at the Troubadour, a landmark of the Los Angeles music scene.
“Let’s give it up for Naethan Apollo everyone!” Landon yells in a comedically stereotypical DJ voice, ushering the artist off the stage.
Landon is on the right side, keeping the crowd engaged between acts. Often, set breaks mean a trip to the bar or bathroom, but Landon has people dancing, rivaling the energy of the artists playing that night.
Playing the Troubadour is a milestone for Landon. It’s proof that his decision to drop out of college, forgo an acceptance to an esteemed music school, and move to Los Angeles on the trails of TikTok fame was all a logical next step in his burgeoning career.
Conversely, each month’s rent is a struggle. Some days, after looking at his bank account, he realizes he can only eat one meal that day.
It’s not just West Hollywood’s steep cost of living. There’s the entry fee of creator networking — the bars, clubs, concerts, and coffee shops that set the scene for success in Los Angeles.
Still, chasing his musical aspirations has brought a level of achievement Landon never imagined possible. His TikTok account has 1.4 million likes, 8.8 million total plays, and forty-four thousand followers. Landon has executed a brand deal for Google, beating nearly all of his peers in STEM to a paycheck from the tech giant. He recently signed with UnderCurrent, a talent agency that’s on the rise. And he has an album a few months away under his online persona, Ladler.
Caption: Landon meets with Jansen in a West Hollywood café for their first interview (Photo by Jansen Baier)
A week before Landon plays the Troubadour, we met to discuss the realities and struggles of being a full-time musician and creator. He tells me he feels pushed to his limits, yet simultaneously more motivated and creative than ever.
“I'm feeling really motivated because I have to. I've put myself in a position that if I don't wake up and pursue my goals – I can’t eat,” Landon says from across a wooden booth in a trendy West Hollywood café.
When I ask him about playing the Troubadour next week, he enters a state of active disbelief before my eyes. He stutters over his words, barely getting out an “I can’t believe it,” laughing nervously along the way.
As our conversation continues, Landon’s facial expressions speak volumes. A skylight illuminates his smile, crowned by a thick red mustache. A black hat dons his curly hair, cut into a mullet. The smile frequently breaks into a laugh, as he delivers lines about not being able to afford food with comedic timing.
Occasionally, the smile drops.
“I’ve been more creative than ever, but I have days where I’m in my car screaming and being like, ‘I hate, I hate this,’” Landon says. “It’s painful. It’s like feeling like you’re starved.”
I met Landon through mutual friends back in the summer of 2014, and I quickly picked up on his ability to seamlessly wind every conversation into a punchline with his quick wit and impromptu bits. But it was Landon’s innate musical skill that stuck out to me. With barely any lessons, Landon would jam on the piano for hours, awing those around him. Only knowing a few chords on the guitar, he would improvise songs with two verses and a catchy hook.
Over the years, I watched Landon grow from SoundCloud remixes to original releases. It was obvious he was destined for a creative field, but what piqued my journalistic intrigue was seeing his TikTok blend so many aspects of his personality together, his unique comedic voice swirling alongside his musical abilities.
Landon is an exemplar of the new pathway to success in the music industry. A pathway that isn’t set by a record label plucking an artist out of obscurity. Or by creating music that’s safe for radio. Social media and short-form content are the foundation of this path, but neither provide a platform for long-term career sustainability.
Two years ago, I asked Landon to describe himself. “I’m a … musician? A creative? A freelance artist? And currently trying to figure out this whole crazy world of art that I decided to pursue,” was his response.
Since then, he’s nailed down the verbiage a bit more.
“The word I use [to describe myself] is entertainer. It’s what I do…[I entertain],” Landon says. Past that, he views himself as a multi-faceted creator – mainly referring to his eclectic social media presence. And on top of that, he is an artist who creates and releases music.
Being a multi-hyphenate is simply the baseline for today’s aspiring musicians, nary a bug but more so a feature. TikTok’s cultural force, accelerated by record labels’ self-imposed new music freeze during the pandemic, has redefined the traditional music industry pipeline.
Just putting out music isn’t enough; musicians must now also make content that shares a glimpse behind the art. More and more, artists are acting as their own marketing teams – teasing release dates, creating behind-the-scenes videos, keeping up with short-form content trends, and promoting their tour dates.
And while self-promotion has been the standard for independent artists for decades, until now, going viral has never been a prerequisite for success. On top of all this, artists must still focus on being a musician, and creating their unique form of art.
On the upside, it allows creators to self-promote to previously unimaginable heights. In 2021, 175 songs that trended on TikTok charted on the Billboard Top 100. Before breaking streaming records, both Olivia Rodrigo’s “Driver’s License” and Lis Nas X’s “Old Town Road” blew up first on TikTok.
This shortform content era of music allows for creators to reach niches and make content that previously did not fit the media industry mold. Ratatouille the Musical started as a funny TikTok trend, albeit with some serious talent behind it. But it ended as “a Disney-sanctioned, one-night-only virtual Broadway show,” as described by The Ringer.
Taking advantage of these niches, Landon creates content that breaks social media’s fourth wall. Casually scroll through his Instagram or TikTok and you may typecast him as just another musician-creator. But finish watching any of his content, and you’ll see the truth: he parodies the tropes of social media, mixing comedic absurdism with what has become the platform-based standard for up-and-coming musicians. Much of Landon’s short-form content is fueled by his original music, which – if not playing into the joke – scores the background perfectly.
Intentionally, Landon bleeds this comedy into his original music and DJ sets. The Ladler single “So Bored” chronicles the reality of life during the pandemic: waking up at 1 p.m., checking your phone “just to do it again,” and missing one’s friends. Arpegiating synths, 8-bit samples, bubble sound effects, and a bouncy bass line accompanies the all-too-familiar pandemic routine.
In a previous interview over Zoom, Landon told me, “I like doing, not a cool DJ set…just a funny DJ set.”
“I would throw [together] Minecraft songs and Wii music…Combining that with a house song and [thinking] this slaps. And people are like, wait this is weird.” Landon said. “I just like that aspect of making people feel weird in a good way.”
Being forced to operate as a multi-hyphenate is a large part of the Ladler character’s success. 10 years ago, being a DJ and electronic artist that promotes their work through satirical, shortform content was simply not a reality.
And while these opportunities are exactly what makes the creator economy exciting, being forced to wear so many hats can become exhausting. “I am in a whirling fucking mess, like, dancing to get out of it,” Landon says, before walking back his exaggeration. “No, I’m joking. But that’s how it starts.”
Since social media is the primary way Landon can grow as an artist – and is a significant portion of his income – his success depends not just on virality, but on repeated, sustained virality. This means, quite simply, a constant tug-of-war between quality and quantity.
When his quantity goes up, his engagement goes down. Occasionally, he’ll have four great ideas in a day, only to be followed up with 10 bad ideas the next.
“You’re just burying a hole for yourself,” Landon says, describing the feeling of posting because he has to, even if it isn’t his best work.
Landon plays a house party with friend and fellow musician George Moss (Photo by Landon Adler)
Landon tells me he’s aware he has a long way to go before “making it.” He explains that chasing success in social media is like a never-ending hamster wheel. And he acknowledges that as the starving artist trope evolves in the modern, digital age, he probably provides a pretty good example.
But he’s proud of his achievements. Just two years ago, Landon was living in his parents’ basement in Boulder, Colorado. He was a college dropout delivering groceries to make ends meet. And he was unsure what direction his art was taking him.
“I would still feel pretty satisfied if I stopped as a whole..because I feel like I achieved higher than what I thought I could have achieved so far,” Landon tells me.
I ask Landon what “making it” even looks like to him in the TikTok era of music. Money? Followers? A record deal? Respect from other musicians?
“I want to get music out there. I want to play. I want to tour. I want that life so badly. And I’m just one [step] – I’m not sure how far away I am. But, that’s the next phase,” he says.
It’s normal for Landon to sugarcoat his candor with comedy, though when talking about being up on stage, there’s a different look in his eyes. His posture shifts forward and his inflection changes from laid-back to nearly pleading with the music industry gods, the powers that may be.
Landon is a talented short-form content creator who loves the freedom social media brings. But it's clear that creating music, touring, and being on stage is what drives his ambition – not TikTok.
An all too familiar text message ding lights up my phone a few days after my first interview with Landon.
Troubadour sold out, Landon writes. That’s crazy. Idk how.
In his humility, Landon doesn’t understand this impressive feat; an outsider looking in might not comprehend it, either. A 10-second video fails at showing the hours that went into its creation, just as a two-minute song doesn’t show the weeks or months that went into its production. Social media shows only the final polished product, not the years of hard work and practice that creators put into their craft. In Landon’s case, those years extend past when he himself first picked up a guitar, and to the deep ties within his family.
Landon’s grandfather is a jazz pianist, a clear inspiration in itself. Yet he attributes his true artistic origins to his older brother, Josh, who was putting out rap projects while Landon was still in high school.
He credits summers spent at a sleepaway camp just outside Yosemite for giving him the confidence to be – in his words – weird and creative. Skit nights and talent shows, pianos in the dining hall, and guitar lessons under towering spruce trees. These all gave Landon a risk-free creative outlet.
Landon poses on a colored stool answering a rotary phone (Photo by Jordan Altergott)
In his junior year of high school, the way Landon approached music changed. Music had always been a passion for Landon, but upon seeing a live Porter Robinson show, something clicked. The energy and spectacle of the concert lit a fire under Landon. After the show, Landon quickly decided, “This is what I want to do.”
Although Landon had conviction in his musical dreams, he lacked formal training. After realizing that learning music theory through a brute-force reading of jazz textbooks wouldn’t work, Landon had an epiphany.
“I realized that it was about creating the whole time. It wasn’t about having the circle of fifths tattooed on my butt,” he says. “It was, ‘What sounds good? Make art. Don’t fit into a musical box.’”
Over the next few years, Landon would release the occasional SoundCloud remix or original but focused on refining his production skills. Approaching graduation, Landon had his hopes set on music school at the University of Southern California but would end up studying marketing at the University of Colorado Boulder. The plan was to graduate and apply his marketing experience to his music career.
“I had a lot of buddies that were at prestigious music schools, making crazy music, but the hard thing when you’re starting as a musician is getting your name out there,” Landon says.
Landon describes being a musician as a full circle, with music being only half of the circle. As good as the music is, without the other half of the circle – marketing – no one will listen. Or, listen enough to form the basis of a successful music career.
“Musicians are [often] like, ‘No, I want to just stay in my room and write masterpiece music,’” Landon says. “It’s like, that’s great dude. But, who cares?”
Landon wishes he could say that he dropped out of college because his professors were villainous. Or that he hated school. Truthfully, Landon had good friends, and great grades. His marketing professors were enthusiastic about his work and optimistic about his post-graduate job opportunities. The marketing-graduate-turned-musician pipeline was in the works — until he went viral on TikTok. I ask Landon how that era of his journey began.
He tells me it started with a friend spamming his phone with shortform clips, telling him over and over to join the app. Eventually, he reluctantly agreed. “I was like ‘Ya, I’ll make a TikTok.’ And it flipped, over the span of four to five months, I was that friend to her,” Landon says with wide eyes and an excited grin.
The flip began with Landon’s first viral TikTok: a plea for other Colorado creatives and artists to drop a comment and connect with him. Overnight, the video had 20,000 views.
“But it wasn’t about the views. That was the first time where I had a moment. There was at least 50 to 60 people in my DMs being like, ‘Let’s work,’” Landon says.
Calling out local creatives struck a vein in the TikTok algorithm, and Landon soon got his first brand deal. It was a monthly sponsorship for Whatify, a choose-your-own-adventure style social media app. Another brand deal followed, this time for a series of videos that had originally flopped. The series showed Landon recording and making beats out of unusual instruments in watermelons and carrots. An exotic fruit company, Miami Fruit, found the videos, loved them, and offered to sponsor Landon for more.
Within a week, Landon had a box of fruit in the mail with the task of making beats from them.
In just over a month, Landon had gone from asking other Colorado creators to collaborate to receiving exotic fruit from across the country. I ask Landon what he would have thought in high school if I told him this was his future.
“I would’ve been like, ‘This is everything I want to be. But there’s just no chance,’” Landon responds. So what about in the moment? “I was going crazy. I was like, ‘what?’ It felt so cool,” Landon says, his words a cocktail of sincerity, sarcasm, and pride.
A few months later, Landon had his first TikTok cross one million views. Landon’s followers and engagement were growing, and he began to reconsider his four-year plan as TikTok became a marketing tool he could integrate his music into.
“It definitely became a deeper discussion with me and my family,” Landon says. “I actually applied to [the] Berklee and CalArts [music programs] and I got into both. I basically concluded that I’m better off saving money, trying to do this on my own, trying to build it off the ground. And that’s the best way to learn, just doing it.”
Landon realized that school was making him a full-time student and a part-time creator. Already living at home due to COVID-19, he decided not to go back. Although he was somewhat supported by his family in this decision, leaving college was not easy, especially after being accepted into the Berklee School of Music
“I had FOMO. All my friends are hanging out, partying, being like, ‘Dude, what are you, like, making TikToks?’” Landon says.
Pursuing music and TikTok full-time was no easy feat. Moving in with his parents, Landon worked a variety of creative and non-creative jobs to support himself, from being a sushi restaurant host and delivering groceries, to podcast production and DJ gigs. While Landon was trying to go viral under his musical persona Ladler, his friends were posting videos from the local bars.
“They’re just having fun, and I’m, like, in my parents’ basement pulling my hair out,” Landon says, as he warps his sincerity into a punchline. “And my dad’s behind me, pulling my hair out – feeding it to my dog.”
As Landon continued in his dual pursuit of original music and social media stardom, he was still figuring out what exactly he would be. In its current form, Ladler balances comedy with serious musicianship, a unique sound, and his satirization of TikTok trends.
Landon pictured amidst four billiard cue sticks pointing at him (Photo by FLASCHWORLD)
That balance is not easy to achieve, so I ask Landon how he got there. “I was just kinda throwing darts at the wall with music and making a lot of sad pop music and stuff,” Landon responds. “I was like I’m gonna write about my trauma. I’m gonna write about my heartbreak. As a songwriter, I didn’t want to do that. It sucks. It's lame. It's not my strength.”
It was ultimately his friends “laughing at [him]” and telling him he was “cringe” that convinced him to try something new. “It’s one thing to be like, ‘Fuck you guys.’ But it’s another thing to be like, ‘It’s okay that you’re not good at some things. But what you are good at is important,’” Landon says.
What is Landon good at?
“I feel the biggest entertainment with my friends is making jokes and bits. It was never the music. So I was like, how can I grab this person … I knew I couldn’t match up to these [production] wizards,” Landon says. “Luckily, all I had to do was make a sick song and just sprinkle a little comedy on top.”
“And that was my recipe,” he continues. “And I know that’s been done or whatever. But I found a sound and a style in that.”
Figuring out his style, Ladler began growing into something bigger than Landon Adler. Executives on sponsorship conference calls were asking him to describe his brand, a question he had never considered. A single video sponsor paid him more money than Landon usually made in weeks.
It wasn’t just the Tik Tok algorithm blessing Landon with views. Every time Landon posted a video, he would manually message hundreds of accounts, asking them to repost and share. And while he faced plenty of rejection, it only took two or three successes to make an immense impact. Miami Fruit, one of Landon’s first sponsors, discovered him through an account that reposted Landon’s video.
“I was grinding cause I knew I didn’t really want to be in Colorado anymore. If I’m not in school here – the music scene was cool and all, but I just knew – LA was always on my bucket list,” the artist says.
When Landon ultimately made the jump to Los Angeles, he did so unsigned, a move he questions in hindsight. And this complete lack of planning did eventually backfire. Living in Los Angeles, Landon was making connections with massive influencers such as Brent Rivera, Eva Marisol, and Pierson Wodzynski. But he struggled financially. His brand deals were inconsistent, limiting his income as a creator.
The myriad success stories of Los Angeles inspired Landon. He saw 24-year-olds who owned mansions and rented out private yachts with YouTube money. “I went from having FOMO of my friends drinking at bars, to having friends playing the Hollywood Palladium,” Landon says.
But he quickly realized just how far away he was from being able to pursue his career full-time. “I was spending all day doing grocery deliveries just to eat the next day…I might as well have just kept living at home,” Landon says.
Thankfully, his parents followed Landon to the West Coast, settling down an hour or so north of him. Landon moved back in with them, but was able to drive down to Los Angeles at any time to pursue career opportunities.
I had seen Landon’s condo in West Hollywood earlier today, so I asked him what changed, now that he could afford paying rent. He puts it in pretty clear terms: “I got signed.”
“We invest in people, more than talent. And Landon is a person that I’m willing to bet on succeeding,” Aaron Hoffman, one of Landon’s managers, says over the phone. “Whatever path it comes from – whether it's comedy, content, music, anything. I just wanted to be in business with him.”
Aaron, a co-founder of the talent agency UnderCurrent, discovered his client through TikTok. The Ladler brand of comedy stuck out as unique to him, and he admired that Landon didn’t pretend to know everything about music, or social media. Plus, it didn’t hurt that he saw serious talent in Landon’s music production and songwriting.
UnderCurrent offered Landon a management and record deal. He accepted, instantly sparking a significant shift in the trajectory of his career.
First, his new reps landed him a brand deal with Google. A collaboration with sandwich chain Jimmy John’s came next, resulting in a video that now has three million views on TikTok. They then negotiated Landon a recurring six-month brand deal with one of Landon’s previous sponsors, BandLab. And most recently, they chose Landon to DJ their showcase night at the Troubadour, headlined by Abhi The Nomad – another member of the UnderCurrent talent roster.
“[Brand deals are] what’s paying the bills. The music, I think all of us foresee, that’s the big-ticket stuff. That’s the fun stuff, but it takes a lot of time,” Landon says.
Landon says he’ll be dropping an EP in the coming months, but as of now, he splits his time between videos and music. Tuesdays and Thursdays are dedicated to batch-creating videos for the coming week, so Landon can maintain the appearance of creating every day. Monday, Wednesday, and Friday are devoted to writing music.
Financially, the brand deals have created a sizable chunk of consistent income. On occasion, he’ll still deliver groceries to make ends meet. Grinding the internet for over two years has given Landon moments of virality and a platform to monetize his creativity. But sustained success in the ever-changing social media landscape does not come quick, or easy.
A few days later, Landon arrives for our second interview at a home I’m house sitting. Nikko, a dark brown dog with no discernable breed, leaps with anticipation of meeting a new friend. As Landon fills in the gaps of our last conversation, we discuss more of the unseen challenges of being a musician chasing success on TikTok.
“If I had these circles, with these literal pools of things I do; content, comedy, the music, the different aspects…I’m doing all this other weird stuff, but [I’m] staying in the swimming pools of things that I know,” Landon says.
“Talk to me three years ago and I wouldn’t have had a pool. I would be jumping in a river. There would just be random shit.”
Landon explains that with social media in particular, success is not a predictable trend. His sponsorship with Google did amazing, while his video the next day flopped. “I still feel like I’m at the start sometimes,” Landon says.
Since we’re on the topic of videos flopping, I ask what his biggest failure has been yet. “I’m failing every day…I’m making content and videos that flop on the daily,” Landon jokingly responds.
His tone shifts to sincerity as he tells me he’s adopted a new radical attitude to failing online – nothing is a failure. To Landon, everything is a win. It doesn’t matter if his engagement or views are low because it’s still a new product in his metaphorical store. His fruit TikToks were by no means an overnight hit, but thanks to a later video’s success, they earned him a sponsorship.
This doesn’t mean that failures don’t sting. Landon’s most viral video yet, his brand deal for Jimmy John’s with over three million views, made him consider quitting completely. New and old viewers called him cringe, a “sell-out.”
“That was the first time I didn’t enjoy the attention at all,” Landon says. “I didn’t enjoy thousands of people roasting me. Not like five, this was thousands of people. That felt like a failure in my head, like maybe I made this too cringe or too forced.”
What does a smashing success look like for Landon five years down the line?
“Seeing my name on a festival bill. Having a music video where there’s more than two people on set…Tapping into my true audience that I know is there,” Landon says. “Just getting on the road...that is my biggest goal in the next five years.”
“What do you want your audience to know about you?” I ask Landon.
“I want my audience to know – since I don’t have music out since my first song, I think people are like, ‘Is he falling off?’” Landon says. “I’ve literally got messages from fans that have been like, ‘Dude, sorry I can’t follow anymore … I’m just not vibing with your content anymore.’ I was like, ‘I want to cry, that’s so sad. I wish you would wait around for the music at least.’”
“So is your message just hold on a little?” I ask.
“I guess my message is just hold on. The music will be worth the wait. It honestly crushes anything I’ve ever made,” Landon says. “I will never be the artist that is there for a check and just wants to get the night over with. I’m there because of my heart, and I will always be on stage because of my heart and my passion for music.”
I can’t comment on the validity of Landon’s second set of claims, although I’d like to believe what he says. But after our second interview, Landon did play a few demos that may be on his upcoming EP, which he describes as “comedic melodic dance music.” And my brief review is this: it’s well worth the wait. The tracks feel like a logical extension of Landon’s TikToks, grounded by his unique sound and accented with just a sprinkling of comedy, separating Ladler from his peers.
“Let’s give it up for Naethan Apollo everyone!” Landon yells.
We’re back at the Troubadour, and as the aforementioned artist – another musician who's found success through TikTok – exits the stage, the crowd is a bit dormant. But before I can even finish taking notes, Landon starts blasting a “Bad and Boujee” mashup.
Syncopated jazzy piano chords are accompanied by a fast-paced drum beat. Orchestral plucks, random percussion, and breaks into stop time fill out the rest of the track. The iconic verses of “Bad and Boujee” pull the crowd out of a slump as a sea of bodies begin to dance.
I overhear a conversation between a nearby couple. “Wait, I love this,” one says as they lock hands and begin to dance.
Landon MC's Undercurrent's showcase night at the Troubadour (Photo by Santos Villaneda)
I catch Landon briefly between sets. He admits he butchered the pronunciation of a band’s name, but a smile of sincere joy encompassed his face when I told him he had people dancing.
“Playing up there and seeing my friends and my family proud of me – it’s like damn. I don’t know. Sometimes I feel like I don’t deserve it. But, apparently, I do,” Landon tells me after the show. “I’m lucky to be here.”
Two days later, Landon posts once again to TikTok. A few weeks later he uploads another sponsored video. Rent remains a struggle, just as Los Angeles stays expensive.
By no means is Landon the first musician to use social media as a tool to create an audience. And mixing comedy and music is no revolutionary idea. But in a crowd of aspiring musicians, his distinctive flavor of “comedic melodic dance music,” stands out from the rest.
Landon is clearly having success in this TikTok-defined era of the music industry. And playing the Troubadour was certainly a glimpse of “making it” for Landon – but he still isn’t quite sure how many steps away he is from getting there. All he knows is that he’s gotten this far by putting one foot in front of the other.
As the goalposts move, so does Landon.
You can jam out to Landon’s latest by following along @ladler! Plus, check out additional overage from Creator Mag.4 and shop the DJ Stormy Dad Hat here.