Puerto Rican superstar Bad Bunny made history last night at London's 90,000-capacity Wembley Stadium, performing to a sold-out crowd in a show that organisers say injected tens of millions into the local economy. The concert, part of his 'Most Wanted' tour, marks the first time a Latin artist has headlined the venue, a feat that UK music industry chiefs have hailed as a lifeline for venues still reeling from the pandemic.
For the thousands of fans who braved queues for £10 pints and £15 programmes, the night was about more than music. It was a chance to spend on a rare night out – a luxury squeezed by stagnant wages and soaring bills. Yet the economic spin-offs are undeniable: hotels, bars, and restaurants in the Wembley area reported bumper takings, while Transport for London ran extra services to cope with demand.
But behind the ticker-tape statistics lies a grimmer reality for the 'Real Economy' that I report on. The gig economy workers who staff the stadium bars were on zero-hours contracts, many earning below the real living wage of £13.15 an hour in London. The merchandise sellers, many of them young creatives, saw a slice of the $200 million global tour revenue that Bad Bunny's label, Rimas Entertainment, will bank. For them, the historic occasion was a reminder of how far the spoils of cultural success travel from the workers who make it happen.
Music industry bodies have been quick to point to the show as evidence that the UK's live sector is bouncing back. A spokesperson for UK Music said: 'This proves we are still a world-leading destination. The government must now step up with tax reliefs and visa reforms to help the sector grow.' Yet for the ticket touts outside the stadium, who were flogging £130 face-value seats for £500, the recovery is already well underway – and it is pricing ordinary fans out.
The unionisation of stadium workers remains low, despite recent high-profile organising drives at other venues. Unite the Union has warned that without a collective voice, the windfall from such megashows will continue to leak upwards. 'Bad Bunny's team will make millions, but the lady cleaning the toilets at 2am will struggle to pay her rent,' said a union organiser I spoke to last night.
In my patch of the North West, where former mill towns still bear the scars of deindustrialisation, the contrast is stark. A show like this is a world away from the boarded-up venues and pay-to-play open mics that dot our high streets. The London-centric nature of the UK's cultural economy means that a historic night at Wembley does little to fill the empty seats of a Bradford theatre or a Blackburn music hall.
But for the fans who danced to 'Tití Me Preguntó' under the floodlights, the night was a moment of pure joy in a city where the cost of living crisis has dimmed the lights. The question is whether that joy can be translated into lasting economic gains for the many, not just the few. As Bad Bunny himself sang: 'Que el dinero no compra la felicidad, pero da una mano.' Or, loosely: money can't buy happiness, but it gives a hand. The hand that reached into Wembley's pockets last night needs to stretch further.
