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A Mess of Headaches

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I have nothing that coherent (i.e., reassuring) to say about Songtradr’s acquisition of Bandcamp. There’s an opinion that Songtradr appears to be a better fit for what Bandcamp does than Epic Games. I’m not so sure. Songtradr is interested in exploiting art (‘exploiting’ is used here factually, not judgmentally) rather than creating art. One could argue Epic at least had a hand in creation — I’m sure many of its game designers consider themselves artists.

A company changing hands in under two years doesn’t bode well. The sale also may betray a purpose behind Epic’s mystifying-at-the-time purchase of Bandcamp. Is it far-fetched to suspect Bandcamp was a chess piece in Epic’s protracted battle against Apple over the high % take from app store sales? For this reason, Bandcamp doesn’t allow purchases from its app, as Apple would compromise Bandcamp’s payment of around 82% of sales directly to artists. At the time of Bandcamp’s acquisition, this tale of the small fry (artists) suffering under the heel of the giant evil villain (Apple) was helpful as a narrative Epic wanted to argue in court. As Apple prevailed for the most part, perhaps Bandcamp’s advantage to Epic expired.

Others have noted that Bandcamp successfully unionized right after Epic’s acquisition. Bandcamp could be seen as a hot potato that might be hot enough to trigger similar moves throughout the larger company.

As for Songtradr, one must consider how a company expects to make money from something like Bandcamp. Songtradr’s statement promises that this new arrangement will “offer Bandcamp artists the ability and choice to have their music licensed to all forms of media.” Sounds great from the outside, but Songtradr presently charges its artists to enter into licensing opportunities. It’s not a lot — $50 a year for the privilege — but pay-to-play licensing platforms tend to put a bad taste in my mouth. And Songtradr utilizes all-you-can-eat licensing models. That means a business or licensee pays a yearly flat fee and can use as much music from Songtradr’s catalog as they wish.1Though I’m sure high-profile licenses like TV shows are exempt, I don’t know how many of those kinds of licenses the platform really does. Most prominent music supervisors steer clear of quantity-over-quality outlets like this. There’s not a whole lot of money for the artist under this model, and it’s doubtful a meaningful percentage makes back their yearly $50.2I’m happy to hear otherwise in the comments from artists with positive experiences.

The real question is how Songtradr can navigate the uncertainty about music rights pervasive on the Bandcamp platform. This wasn’t a problem before, as Bandcamp never got too deep into any usage scenarios that required scrutiny. That’s why the platform is rife with songs containing uncleared samples, cover songs that haven’t been properly registered, and even ‘bootleg’ remixes and appropriation of others’ recordings. Before, no one really seemed to care. But it’s a potential legal disaster for a platform that hopes to add Bandcamp artists to its licensing catalog simply by having them opt-in and pay a fee.

Songtradr will obviously require artists to sign an online contract stating that they own all the rights to the music and that they’re responsible for any legal trouble. But many artists have no idea about the rights to their songs. I still run into producers who think if they’ve bought a song, that gives them a license to sample it at will. And there are others who believe their unique ‘take’ on a classic tune makes them the credited writer. More often, many artists will opt in without consulting (and maybe without identifying) their songwriting — or label! — partners, inspiring a whole mess of headaches. Sure, an online contract with the artist will allow Songtradr to shift the legal blame, but believe me, after a few mid-profile licensing snafus where the client has to redo a project, all platform credibility is lost.

But what happens to those of us who love and use Bandcamp? As I told an internet friend, “Like reciting ‘memento mori,’ we need to always think about what we do in a world without Bandcamp because that day will come.”

I wrote in a prior blog post that having a central hub for your artistic endeavors that you own and control is essential, preferably accompanied by an email mailing list. If Bandcamp gets destroyed and your ‘store’ moves elsewhere, you need a way for your audience to know. Better yet, have your music also available to stream and purchase on your website or hub. Then, if Bandcamp or whatever is no longer an option, your audience will still have the means to access your music while you explore the next steps.

Elaborating further on this point, Peter Kirn wrote something important about Bandcamp and any potential replacement on his Create Digital Media blog:

Honestly, the real problem is, given the nature of platform capitalism and the governance of private corporations being for investor benefit, ultimately all these tools are doomed. It’s not really fair to say these services are artist-first, because artists ultimately have limited say over them. That’s not to say we shouldn’t use these services, but the dependency on them – and the extent to which we’re serving someone else’s needs – should absolutely be a worry.

That’s the rub. Not only should artists have hubs and sites under their command, but we need to start thinking about true artist-first tools that operate on community rather than profit. I feel that the rise of things like ActivityPub is pointing the way. And I know smart people are working right now on this sort of thing for the discovery and distribution of music.

I’m hopeful that the uncertainty around Bandcamp might be the thing that moves thought into action. When you consider how interests are presently aligned, here’s never been a better time to make something new and important happen for the betterment of independent music.

Punching the Disinfo Machine

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This Spotify dust-up is fascinating, isn’t it? I spent much of the last 48 hours talking with people about it, explaining what’s going on, and mildly debating it (though please remember that I don’t argue on the internet). People have questions and there’s still a lot to understand about a situation that’s starting to feel like a runaway train. I thought it would be fun and helpful to do a self-Q&A to clear up some things and offer an opinion on why I believe this is a meaningful moment.


• Why pick on Spotify? There are awful content and disinformation podcasts distributed by Apple, Amazon, and more. Is it hypocritical to leave Spotify but remain with the others?

It’s hard not to argue that under late capitalism any large corporation will end up going down a dark path (just ask the folks who eventually removed “Don’t be evil” as their unofficial motto). Thus sole reliance on any corporation, especially for one’s artistic output, is something to avoid whenever possible. There’s also the messy perception of shared endorsement when the platform one relies on does nasty things.

While disinformation is undesirable on any platform (and the climate change denial stuff concerns me just as much as the pandemic stuff) there is a difference in how Spotify participates in its distribution. Spotify’s relationship with Joe Rogan’s podcast involves a layer that’s more complex than other negligent platforms that host disinformation podcasts.

Spotify paid Joe Rogan over 100 million dollars for exclusive rights to the podcast. That’s a lot. And artists and subscribers aren’t entirely wrong in feeling like they help pay for that by utilizing the platform. And, by paying this much for a single property, it’s in Spotify’s interest to relentlessly promote that property. In my experience, Rogan’s podcast is the top podcast recommendation on the Spotify dashboard a lot more often than it isn’t. I’ve never listened to a podcast through Spotify in my life but, almost without fail, there it is. Recommended for me and, I’m sure, recommended for you as well.

Those are the things that Neil Young et al. find most disturbing, which differ from, say, how Apple hosts toxic podcasts on its platform. This doesn’t excuse Apple or anyone else — pretty much every platform is guilty to some degree. Which I think is another reason why we’re picking on Spotify: there’s a sense of helplessness in the sea of disinformation and targeting Spotify feels slightly hopeful. It’s a message delivered to a company financially invested in the disinformation and a tangible loss (in invested money or share price) might make other platforms think twice.

Admittedly, this sounds quixotic. But I don’t think that’s a reason not to strive for a world we’d like to live in.

• Why are Neil Young and Joni Mitchell the ones pulling music off Spotify and not any current top artists?

The particulars of major label artist deals are varied and tricky and often put the artist at a disadvantage in distribution decisions with their catalog. (I released three albums through a major in the late ’90s and there is no way that I’m able to pull those off Spotify.) No matter how big newer artists are (and I’m talking ones who came up in the last 20 years) they are most likely still locked into contracts that last multiple releases and decades. So, it’s not surprising that ‘legacy’ artists are ones able to do this as they’ve gone through at least a few renegotiations, theoretically able to get better terms and more control each time.

But — many legacy artists also have their hands tied, thanks to those huge payout publishing acquisition deals that have been happening. Neil Young may have negotiated the final say over where his songs can appear in his recent deal (and Warner Bros is an accomodating partner) but it’s possible Bob Dylan or Bruce Springsteen didn’t. We don’t know. Related: this tweet from David Crosby.

• What about Taylor Swift? She kept her music off Spotify before. Wasn’t the whole point of leaving Big Machine Records to gain control of her music rights?

As for Taylor Swift, we can only guess at why she won’t (or will she) do anything. She did sign a new deal with Universal Music Group after her fights with Spotify and Apple, so her amount of control may have changed (and I assume she was aided in those fights by a label that was apparently sympathetic with her wishes, which would be ironic). Yes, her owning her masters was publicly a big part of the Universal deal, but I bet that ownership comes over time (10 years after the release date on a recording, for example) rather than right away — but different than the perpetuity of her Big Machine terms so better for her in the long run.

Plus, the fact that Swift has an antagonistic relationship with her former label which controls most of her recordings probably means she couldn’t remove everything even if Universal agreed.

• OK, if the artists can’t remove music from Spotify shouldn’t they at least all speak out?

Yes, a lot of these artists that don’t have control over their recordings could and probably should speak out — and some are! But there’s the danger everyone doing the “thoughts and prayers” thing could become performative overkill and fade with no real bite like tweeting a black box did. In my opinion, if an artist really wants to make an impact, don’t mention Spotify at all in posts, on the artist’s website, and in public (unless to occasionally remind listeners not to go there) — send fans to other platforms. Bandcamp’s a great choice.

• I can’t help but think that Neil Young and Joni Mitchell won’t have enough impact. Only older music fans care about them, not the demographic that Spotify wants to reach.

Hey, I’m a Gen X’er who likes Neil Young — I was converted after seeing him out-feedback Sonic Youth in the early ’90s. But, okay, Neil and Joni may mainly appeal to the ‘olds.’ You know what, though? Large and important parts of the music industry are still being run by the olds (including the journalistic side). The impact may be subtler and greater than you might think.

• Where do you think this is going?

My hope is that we’re another step closer to a split in the music industry and how music is consumed. That wouldn’t be anything new — until streaming came along, the independent label and artist ecosystem existed separately from the corporate one with some overlap. The introduction of streaming brought the promise that those sides could live peacefully under one roof (or platform). We’re starting to see the problems and ethical conflicts brought about by that notion. Here’s something from 2019 I wrote on this topic and, surprise, Neil Young plays a role in that post, too.

User-Centric Dreaming

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User-Centric Dreaming → The user-centric streaming royalty model — explained and critiqued here — was the focus of a new study by the National Music Centre in France. Using data from Deezer (who are publicly open to exploring this model) and Spotify (who aren’t but might be shifting), the study determined a small advantage for niche artists, offset by the amount of major label back-catalog material that makes up the majority of streams. Here’s Stuart Dredge in Musically:

There is plenty more to parse from this new study, such as the likely increases for genres like classical music, jazz, metal and blues (and corresponding drops for streaming’s biggest genres: rap and hip-hop). Meanwhile, catalogue music is a beneficiary, which – again, as indicated in previous studies – is one reason why user-centric might not be the redistribution of revenues from major labels to independents that might have been expected.

The user-centric model dispenses of the system of pooled royalties that go out to artists streamed on platforms like Spotify. Instead, a listener’s subscription money only goes to the artists that a listener streams. So, if you listen to nothing but Merzbow1preferably at an ear-splitting volume on Spotify Premium for 30 days, then all of your $9.99 monthly subscription fee goes to Merzbow.

This model may not change the royalty pay-outs much, according to the study. But I’m still into the model for two reasons. First of all, I feel like it would give listeners more emotional investment in the artists they stream. I want to think we’d feel an additional connection with our listening choices, knowing that our streams contain direct support for our favorite artists. Though it’s worth noting, the much-maligned per-stream rate isn’t likely to change.2Though, as a Spotify Premium subscriber, if you only listened to one Merzbow song in a month, then that single stream is worth $9.99. Crazy, eh?

Second, and more significantly, the user-centric model would destroy the shadow industry of stream farms. These are the “pay X amount of dollars for ten thousand streams” folks who load songs into a wall of smartphones, playing a song on each repeatedly to increase stream counts. These plays also theoretically increase the royalties paid to the farmed songs, but it’s at the expense of other artists legitimately streamed on the platform because of royalty pooling. Under a user-centric model, if the stream farm pays $9.99 for a premium account, then the only potential royalty from that account comes out of that $9.99, even if the song is looped a kazillion times. And it won’t affect the royalties of valid artists.

As the Musically article points out, right now, this is all pie-in-the-sky thinking. That’s because for the adoption of the user-centric model, the major labels — many of whom are Spotify shareholders — would have to agree to it. As the model helps niche artists, even slightly, the majors are not going to let this happen.

Anyhoo … want to grok some more pros-and-cons on user-centric streaming? This analysis of how the model changes an artist’s digital marketing strategy, via Bas Grasmayer and his excellent MUSIC X newsletter, is an illuminating read.

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Daniel Lanois on WTF with Marc Maron + Rick Rubin on The Moment with Brian Koppelman → Possibly the best thing I did all week was listening to these two podcasts back-to-back. These conversations illustrate how a music producer’s role can overlap with some combination of philosopher, personal coach, and crisis manager. It’s not just about drum sounds and reverb. Lanois talks specifics about the process of wrangling great work from icons (and their giant egos), and Rubin expands on that with the big picture view. I recommend you listen in that order — a masterclass in the mindsets required to inspire others into action, not just applicable to inside a recording studio. Bonus: this interview with Trevor Horn conducted by Prince Charles Alexander (also a producer of renown) has a lot more ‘shop talk’ than the previous two but is still a fascinating listen. Horn is such an engaging interviewee. 

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Burdy – Satellite → Back in the ’90s, all of us downtempo-headz listened to lots of Fila Brazillia and the other artists inhabiting the Hull, UK, imprint Pork Recordings. One act that stood out was Baby Mammoth, a duo who shared Fila’s knack for melody and sly rhythmic constructions. An amicable gent named Burdy was one-half of Baby Mammoth. We ended up becoming friends thanks to his semi-frequent sojourns to the US, where we often DJ’ed the same club nights. After a couple of solo releases and a stint as an Australian, Burdy took a long break from music-making. Now he reaches out from his new base in chilly Canada, surprising us with a delightful album of fresh music. Satellite is out today on Filtered Deluxe Recordings and features ten tracks that won’t disappoint fans of the Mammoth or their Pork label-mates. The songs feature Burdy’s sense of melody, sense of humor (“Murder Hornets,” anyone?), and his sense of style. Meaning, this is stylish stuff — pleasantly sloping beats, a rush of organic and electronic instrumentation, and vibes for days (or daze) make me wistful for when we used to pack dance floors with 100 BPMs and below. Start with the second track, “Kananaskis,” with its road-movie guitar, watery bounce, and cryptic chants, immediately pulling you in for the long haul. 

Autoplay’s Algorithmic Hit-Maker

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Spotify’s infamous recommendation algorithm is a hot topic on this blog, under fire for pay-to-play schemes and encouraging saccharine content. Stereogum’s Nate Rogers touches on both aspects while exploring how an obscure Pavement b-side became the band’s most popular song on the streaming platform. No one is certain of the reason for this — fucking algorithms, how do they work? But the song did start collecting massive play counts in early 2017 when Spotify switched Autoplay ‘on’ for everyone by default. 

The Autoplay feature on Spotify plays a stream of songs automatically once you’ve finished listening to an album, its selection based on that album’s sound. Autoplay also is enacted when you launch Spotify’s ‘radio’ function. That function is also based on a band or a song’s sound — you could specify ‘LCD Soundsystem Radio,’ for example. I’ve written before about how Spotify uses Autoplay to keep you listening to the platform in a way that pays fewer royalties. 

The theory goes that, for whatever mysterious reason, Spotify’s algorithm loves Pavement’s “Harness Your Hopes.” Whenever, in Autoplay mode, the algorithm selects a song from Pavement, that’s the one it picks. 

Damon Krukowski has noticed something similar. The Galaxie 500 song “Strange” is similarly the most popular song on Spotify from the band by a wide margin. Damon was puzzled as the song was never a single and “not particularly popular in the past” (which I’ll dispute as I’ve always loved that song). But its rise on Spotify coincided with the ascendance of “Harness Your Hopes” — January 2017. That pesky Autoplay algorithm.

It’s nice that these deep cuts get thrust in the Spotify spotlight, even though Autoplay streams pay much lower royalties than intentional streams. But why are these songs sticking out? It’s argued that “Harness Your Hopes” is a quintessential Pavement song — not as crazy or weird or (and I don’t mean this disparagingly) memorable as other titles in their catalog. I’m sure the band agrees. Krukowski wonders about this, too, with regards to “Strange”:

“‘Strange’ is a touch faster, louder, with a more regular backbeat and a more predictable song structure than most Galaxie 500 songs,” he pointed out on his blog. “Might an unintended result of Autoplay, then, be the separating out and rewarding of the most ‘normal’ songs in each band’s catalog…? … As albums are increasingly supplanted by playlists, and intentional listening of all kinds is increasingly replaced by algorithmic recommendations, ‘Play Galaxie 500’ may really come to mean, ‘Play the song by Galaxie 500 that most resembles songs by others.'”

That sounds worrying, but keep in mind that Autoplay is a passive listening mode. It’s playing in the background for most listeners. So keeping the crazy or weird or memorable at bay is desirable. The music shouldn’t linger or provoke by design.

The problem is the list of ‘top songs’ on an act’s Spotify artist page. These Autoplay ‘passive’ listens are treated the same as intentional listens. Though purposefully selecting to listen to a song or album holds more weight for the artist — both in royalty and fan-building — it’s treated the same as a passive, in-the-background listen. One hundred passive Autoplay streams are identical to one hundred intentional plays when determining a band’s top songs. So, when you go to Galaxie 500’s Spotify page, you’ll see “Strange” as the top song at 11,680,597 plays. 

“When Will You Come Home” is probably a song more beloved by fans, and it’s certainly more indicative of Galaxie 500’s sound, but it’s stuck at 1,439,734 streams. That seems measly compared to the top song’s count. But, assuming those million-and-a-half streams are intentional plays as opposed to Autoplay-ed, that song has a lot more relevance than an algorithm’s inscrutable choice.

🔗→ Why Is The Obscure B-Side “Harness Your Hopes” Pavement’s Top Song On Spotify? It’s Complicated.

Update: Damon Krukowski got in a spirited discussion with Spotify’s Glenn McDonald over the issues raised in the Stereogum article Check out the thread on Twitter.

Enthusiastic About the Fringe

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Liz Pelly’s Podcast Overlords → Pelly delivers another scathing, must-read broadside for The Baffler, this time focusing on the potential fall-out of Spotify’s love affair with the podcasting world. She sees musicians as the “canaries in the coalmine,” foretelling that only the biggest podcasting names will find success on the platform. The others will face diminished identities and fanbases in favor of Spotify’s platform branding and emphasis on ‘star’ playlists. And, unlike the music content, most exclusive podcast IP becomes the property of Spotify. 

Many Spotify-focused musicians tailor their music to accommodate the platform, and Pelly sees podcasts similarly affected. She believes we already see shortened podcasts, such as Parcast’s three-minute Daily Quote, intended to fit automated personalized playlists like The Daily Drive and Daily Wellness. There’s also a real danger of producers optimizing their podcasts — a positive reframing of appeasing algorithms that encourage milquetoast and unchallenging content. 

Writes Pelly:

… as much as Daniel Ek wants to continue doing interviews pushing the same talking points about the democratizing force that streaming has been, it ultimately just reproduces and exacerbates the exploitative status quo, where those without the numbers are treated as disposable. The fact that podcasting staff are unionizing is of particular importance in this regard. Solidarity amongst podcasters and musicians could be useful in imagining new systems and practices that work for everyone. 

As I’ve said re: music on Spotify, it’s not a game anyone has to play. Think of this as an opportunity to create (and strengthen) communities for podcasts existing outside of Spotify’s ecosystem. My often repeated analogy of ’80s commercial radio vs. college radio applies — there were many listeners satisfied with hearing the top 40. But there were also plenty of people enthusiastic about the fringe offered on college stations. What’s important is to embrace your lane. Let Spotify be Spotify (i.e., commercial radio) and instead reach out to the communities of listeners that reject ‘optimized’ content. [LINK]

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A Documentary Called Eno → What’s this? It’s Brian Eno in 1973’s flamboyant “I wear make-up because I look better” glory. A 24-minute documentary called Eno popped up online this week, filmed during the recording of Here Come The Warm Jets. The opening scene sums up Brian’s modus operandi — he’s playing the piano well enough that for a second, you think, “he can actually play the piano.” But then you realize he’s not that good at all. It’s his enthusiasm and concentration that’s making it work. And, unless it’s buried in the mix, that piano part never makes it into “The Paw-Paw Negro Blowtorch” anyway (kind of like the sitar solo we hear seconds later — huh, what?). Says Eno, “I have attempted to replace the element of skill considered necessary in music with the element of judgment.” What a find, what a gem. Hat tip to Jon Curtis at Poke In The Ear. [LINK]

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Chicha Libre & La Sonora Mazurén – “Caminito de mi Pueblo” → I’m in love with this song, a collaboration between NYC’s Chicha Libre and Colombia’s La Sonora Mazurén. Translated as “Little Paths of My Town,” it’s a cover of a tune originally recorded in 1976 by Ecuadorian accordionist, poet, and Moog pioneer Polibio Mayorga. This rousing single is a tribute to indigenous leader Cristina Bautista, heard speaking on the track, and was released on October 29, 2020, the first anniversary of her assassination. “Caminito de mi Pueblo” has an uplifting, rebellious feel that we can all appreciate — proof that resistance doesn’t have to feel angry. It also features some cool synth riffs amidst the layers of traditional instrumentation and bouncing percussion. Read more about this single here. [LINK]

This Space For Rent: Showing Up on Spotify’s Endcap

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Spotify is floating a tool (reportedly called Discovery Mode) that would allow users — labels, artists, and marketing teams — to influence its mysterious streaming algorithm. Importantly, this applies to the algorithm that recommends the music played in Spotify’s non-interactive autoplay functions. Rather than affecting placements in algorithmically determined playlists, the program pushes songs played in ‘radio’ streams. These are the streams of music that automatically play once an album or playlist ends (if you haven’t turned off this feature in your settings) or while using Spotify’s radio functions. It’s like how we usually think of Pandora — an endless stream of songs inspired by a particular artist, album, or algorithmic choices based on a user profile.

Here’s the clincher: To participate, the song selected for algorithmic spotlighting will receive reduced royalties on streams resulting from the program. In other words, on-demand streams from fans intentionally listening to the song on Spotify or hearing it in a playlist are unaffected. Spotify only increases its take on non-interactive (radio) streams of the music that has opted in.

The optics are bad, and Twitter is not amused. It’s no secret that Spotify (and, to be fair, other streaming services) pays out at miserably low rates. Reducing this rate further appears insulting. If we give Spotify the benefit of the doubt, this future fee in exchange for participation is meant as a filter to keep labels and artists from opting in every song in their catalogs. And we could consider the lack of an upfront fee as egalitarian outreach. But less benevolent speculation is more worrying.

First, I must point out that non-interactive streaming — ‘personalized radio’ like the Pandora example — pays out at the lowest royalty rate of all. Without going into the weeds1Here’s a quick explainer., this is a legally mandated difference, and it’s true for every service that has a somewhat unpredictable radio-like component. It’s also why US listeners can’t skip around on Mixcloud — that ability would make the stream ‘interactive’ and the royalties owed would jump significantly. Thus the rate that Spotify pays for personalized radio is already tiny. 

In my view, the reduction in the low non-interactive rate for artists won’t make much difference, both in what Spotify gains and the artists lose. That supports the ‘benefit of the doubt’ view. Despite the tone-deaf appearance, Spotify’s decision-makers may feel like this is a gift to artists.

What’s worrying is the possible (and, frankly, probable) expansion of this tool. I don’t know for sure, but I’m guessing an artist opts-in to this program via Spotify’s much-lauded playlist pitching tool in the Spotify For Artists dashboard. When an artist presents a song to Spotify for playlist consideration, I bet we’ll find a box to check for participation and rate-reduction. As this pitching tool is primarily geared toward playlist inclusion, it’s not a stretch to see algorithmic playlists — with their higher per-play rates — becoming a part of the program. Discovery Weekly and Release Radar are obvious candidates, as these are two popular Spotify playlists that are wholly determined by an algorithm. But other popular ‘non-algorithmic’ playlists — think RapCaviar and Your Favorite CoffeeHouse, among others — are starting to mix algorithmic selections within the human curation. Could these playlists become a mix of tastemaker choices sprinkled with paid-for insertions?

Some have pointed out that this isn’t that far removed from traditional record store practices. Labels would often pay stores to feature new releases on the endcaps of CD bins prominently. Of course, others say Spotify’s recommendation-influencing tool is closer to payola. That fits when the program is influencing selections on personalized radio. But once this program starts placing songs in playlists, it’s similar to a new release incentively displayed for discovery in a record store.

It’s easy to see nothing wrong with this. Listening habits and user profiles are recommendation factors, and the algorithms will probably remain weighted to those specs. A paid-for promotion is only another point of influence. If you listen to EDM all day, you’re not going to find death metal in your playlist just because someone paid for it. 

But I worry about normalization, not only on Spotify but across all streaming platforms once the genie is set free. And history shows how commerce’s manipulation of art (as loosely defined here) often ends up poisoning the well. If the program’s demand increases, it’s realistic to imagine the ‘paid-for’ metric of the algorithm edging out the other user-defined factors. 

Here’s another observation. This program is a new and experimental feature focused solely on music, but it requires little investment from Spotify. There’s not much relative cost in adding the technology to manage this. Correspondingly, the return won’t be enough to make a difference in Spotify’s finances. The contrast is Spotify’s increased investment in podcasts and podcast technology. Of note, just today, Variety announced Spotify’s $235 million purchase of podcast ad-tech firm Megaphone.

Follow those millions. If we believe that Spotify intended this algorithm-influencing feature as a helpful tool for artists, it’s still obvious where the company sees its future. And they’re probably right — I’ve no doubt Spotify will find profit and success as a Netflix-hybrid mixing original ‘audio’ content with a side of music offerings. In that case, that new release endcap display you’re paying for isn’t in a record store — it’s in the music section at Best Buy.

🔗→ Spotify’s new artist tool could boost streams (with a discounted royalty rate)
🔗→ Spotify to offer artists and labels the option to promote their music in your recommendations
🔗→ Promotion or ‘payola’? Spotify faces backlash over new personalised recommendations feature
🔗→ Could Spotify’s New Discovery Mode Be Considered Payola?

Creating Scarcity in the Digital Marketplace

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In the latest Water and Music newsletter, Cherie Hu notes a startling development in music monetization. Utilizing the blockchain, a pair of electronic music acts auctioned digital artworks — “short-form, looping videos soundtracked by original music” — earning close to $40,000. Using non-fungible tokens (NFT), the buyers can own (or control) these pieces despite the content’s digital replicability. 

Cherie’s article then considers scarcity, a fan-driven quality of music and collectibles that, in the digital age, rarely exists outside of touring. As Cherie says, “In a capitalist economy, artificial scarcity creates the conditions for discovering culture’s true market value.” In old school (but still existent) terms, think of limited edition albums, the hand-crafted numbered cassette, or that t-shirt you can only buy directly from the touring band. But applying this to the digital marketplace is a tough nut to crack. Cherie writes:

… artificial scarcity could not be more antithetical to how the streaming economy works today, because we expect digital music to be as close to free and ubiquitous as possible — i.e. the opposite of scarce. In a noisy online media landscape, many artists also feel pressured to achieve the same level of ubiquity as the services that monetize their work, constantly churning out content in order to keep up with “the algorithm” and maintain fans’ attention — a burden that is ever more amplified in a world without touring. 

After reading this piece, I checked out Shawn Reynaldo’s latest First Floor newsletter. Shawn speaks with electronic musician Jordan GCZ about his embrace of the Patreon platform. Jordan suggests that he may release music only through Patreon — that is, not on vinyl or Bandcamp or the streamers, but only to his 36 (as of right now) supporters. And these won’t be cast-off tracks or outtakes — the artist promises to release some of his best songs this way, delivered only to his most ardent fans. 

Unless there’s something like incorporating tokens as Cherie writes about, there’s nothing non-fungible about Jordan’s Patreon-only music releases. These fans are free to copy and pass on these music files, and they might end up on piracy sites and YouTube. The scarcity is only in the files’ initial distribution. But I am intrigued by this idea — albums and releases distributed only through ‘fan clubs’ as an alternative to the corporate outlets. I just wonder if the status of membership and being the first to receive the music is scarce enough. 

🔗→ Digital Music’s New Drop Culture
🔗→ Patreon Creeps into Electronic Music

Anchor Drop: Add Music To Your Spotify Shows

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I’m usually critical of Spotify, as I was yesterday, but I’m also happy to give credit when it’s due. Utilizing the company’s 2019 purchase of Anchor and its podcast-creation tools, Spotify now allows users to create podcast-like audio programs around the streaming music available on the platform. I say “podcast-like” because these aren’t what we know as podcasts — these aren’t stand-alone shows that play outside of the Spotify ecosystem, nor can one talk over the music or only include music snippets. The new feature, accessible through the Anchor app, allows users to insert their own audio content — assumed, in most cases, to be spoken commentary or conversations — within their shows (i.e., playlists). In other words, you can create a ‘podcast-like’ playlist that contains your song selections with the sound of you chatting about the songs in-between. These playlists are published to Spotify as a ‘show.’

I’ve spoken about the frustrating issues with licensing music for podcasts before. Those problems persist for podcasts, but Spotify’s work-around is a smart option for those who don’t mind their content getting locked to the platform. The pre-existing music licenses already in place with Spotify apply since users are merely adding music to ‘playlists.’ Technically and legally, it’s nothing new for the platform.

This tool opens up many possibilities for music-oriented programs such as Song Exploder-style dissections or celebrity ‘desert island disc’ spotlights. Anchor’s feature has launched with some interesting examples of it in action, such as this program on murder ballads and The Ringer-associated 60 Songs That Explain The ’90s. 

Of course, artists will have no control over where their songs appear, so thick skins are necessary for the inevitable ‘These Songs Suck’ shows. Spotify may also have to deal with commentary of its platform, as I’d like to see the tool used to highlight and explain ‘fake artists‘ and other efforts by labels and production studios that exploit the streamer for quick bucks. 

Here’s a Twitter thread where Anchor co-founder Michael Mignano announces and describes the new tool: 

🔗→ Introducing a brand new way to create in Anchor, with all the music you love
🔗→ Spotify Now Lets You Add Music Tracks to Podcast Shows

Anti-Social Recording Artists

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I’m thinking about what Darren Hemmings had to say in a recent Motive Unknown newsletter. It’s not a secret that I’m no fan of social media (esp. Zuckbook). You might not know that I’m presently doing a lot of research into how a label or artist can effectively promote music without social media. I’m convinced it’s possible, but not without a fair amount of legwork and reconsidering music marketing traditions. So it was with great interest to see Darren, who runs a marketing consultancy representing the likes of Run The Jewels and Moby, state the following:

… there may be quite a fundamental shift starting here – albeit in very, very early form. It strikes me that some artists are increasingly tiring of existing on other people’s platforms where their relationship to fans is always compromised. Instead, platforms like Bandcamp and community hubs like Discord allow them to sell directly and build a home for those fans that is not subject to algorithmic control over who see their message. They are tiring of social media and tiring of other platforms controlling who they can reach. […] Where I think this could get interesting is when we see the first artists really break through with little support or presence across both DSPs and social media in general. I think many would see that as an impossible notion right now, but to my mind that is something that may happen sooner than we all realise.

I agree. And I would love for some of these breakout ‘first artists’ to be emerging rather than established (I mean, if Bruce Springsteen decided to do a Bandcamp-only release, it would obviously do well).

I also think the anti-platform sentiment that’s loudly brewing isn’t only about lack of direct fan access. There are also political concerns, especially among a younger crop of tuned-in artists. In Spotify’s case, there are problems with the platform’s unsupportive moves against musicians. And issues with Facebook (which, remember, owns Instagram) are so plentiful that the platform’s contributions to things like, uh, genocide are now old news. 

It isn’t easy to find optimism right now, but I’m optimistic about this. Artists and labels are starting to take control. They’re learning that the tools exist, for the first time in history, to reach new levels of independence (and interdependence). You know that thing I like to say: It’s the punk rock dream come true … if you want it.

Content ID’s Closed-Door Controversy

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There’s continuing controversy over YouTube’s Content ID rights management platform. You might think I’m talking about content creators complaining about video takedowns for music violations. But I’m actually referring to the growing number of artists demanding direct access to the Content ID tools.

Here’s a quick overview of Content ID from the artist’s perspective: a song submitted to YouTube’s Content ID system is available to creators for use in videos without extra permissions. Content ID will auto-magically identify when songs in its library appear in YouTube videos. The artist (or other rights-holder) can then elect to block the video, monetize the song’s placement in the video (via advertising), or forgo either action by ‘white-listing’ the video. Most of the songs in a major label’s catalog and many independents are a part of this Content ID library.

The problem is that artists and labels can only access these tools through a YouTube-approved third party. This party is usually someone like AdRev or a distributor like Symphonic. As expected, in the monetization option, the third parties will take a cut of any income. Some artists find a mandatory reliance on a third party aggravating, especially when giving up a share of the money is unavoidable.

There is a lawsuit against YouTube filed by artist Maria Schneider and the company Pirate Monitor to challenge this requirement, arguing that Content ID should open up direct access to anyone. The brunt of the argument rests on the challenges of those who can’t utilize Content ID. That is, if a song used in a video is not in YouTube’s system, the reporting and takedown process is inadequate and ineffective. In that case, the artist or label would manually ‘flag’ the video and wait for YouTube to take action. As you can imagine, it’s not an effective process.

YouTube argues that Schneider is not affected by any deficiencies in its approach, as reported in Complete Music Update. She uses a third party already, says YouTube, so she’s an example that the tools are readily available to anyone. Pirate Monitor also has its issues: 

As for Pirate Monitor, YouTube is more scathing about its involvement in the lawsuit. The counterclaim makes various allegations about the conduct of the anti-piracy firm, concluding that that conduct demonstrates why Content ID access is not available to all. It accuses Pirate Monitor of setting up various anonymous accounts on YouTube, uploading snippets of films controlled by its clients, and then issuing takedown requests against those uploads.

Perhaps, but one could look at Pirate Monitor’s alleged actions as to why Content ID should be more widely available. It’s become another system that encourages ‘gaming’ from those left out of its tools. 

You probably know my opinion. The point isn’t that Schneider has the access — it’s that she’s beholden to a third party to get it. With that in mind, I’d say an artist who licenses music under Creative Commons has a better case. 

I’ve written previously about Kevin MacLeod, a musician who allows free use of his music in anyone’s videos.1This strategy has paid off as MacLeod has gotten quite a few paid music gigs based on the widespread appearance of his music. A third party will not represent him because he doesn’t want to make money off YouTube placements — there’s no income and no cut. But, he needs the protection Content ID provides. MacLeod has run into others downloading his music and illegitimately submitting it to a service like AdRev without his knowledge. The videos with MacLeod’s songs are then monetized against his will with the income going to some shadowy figure. 

There’s little that MacLeod and others like him can do when this happens. They can’t access Content ID, the third parties reject them for representation as there’s no income, and YouTube — as expected from a huge corporation — is slow to respond (if at all). MacLeod eventually got YouTube’s attention, but it took a long time repeatedly pleading with the company. YouTube’s eventual solution? They gave MacLeod direct access to Content ID. It’s that easy — YouTube should find a way to open up Content ID for all.