8Sided Blog

thoughts about music’s place in the 21st century

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. 

Bandcamp’s Roots in Fandom

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Bandcamp’s Ethan Diamond doesn’t do a lot of podcast interviews. So his conversation with Andrew Dubber on the MTF Podcast is a good find. Recorded sometime last April, the Bandcamp CEO gives personal insight into the platform and its philosophy. He also talks about the introduction of Bandcamp Fridays to help artists struggling without tour income. The interview happened after the first one took place. 

Bandcamp

And it’s fun to hear of Diamond’s music fandom, including a story about ordering an obscure vinyl LP from a Norwegian band called Koppen — “one of my favorite records.” The creation story of Bandcamp comes out of fandom, too. Diamond was inspired when he bought a digital download directly from the site of a band he liked. The profound technical issues he experienced — this was the web of the mid-00s — put him on a mission to serve the music community by making something better. In other words, Bandcamp is a platform sparked by fandom and in service to musicians. Compare that with whatever inspired Daniel Ek’s recent remarks about Spotify’s artist community — he seems to feel artists should serve him.

But there’s no animosity or sense of competition. Diamond explains that Bandcamp can coexist with Spotify. He rightly believes the two platforms each appeal to different tiers of listeners:

The way I think about it is when I was growing up — so listening to music in the late ’70s and the early ’80s — there were lots of people who exclusively interacted with music through the radio. And then there were the people who bought tapes and bought vinyl records. Not everybody needed to do that. There were a lot of people who were totally happy listening to stuff on the radio. They like music so they turn on the radio. They have this channel that’s kind of the style of music they like. I feel like that’s exactly what’s happening now. The streaming services are a lot like radio. And playlists are a lot like radio. And then there’s this different kind of person who wants to go deep and interact with the artist and own the music. That’s a subset and I’m happy to cater to that subset.

This is spot on. We forget that, in the pre-digital era, the vast majority of people didn’t buy music. The radio or background listening in stores or on TV was sufficient.

Spotify — or any mass audience streaming service — has the goal of monetizing casual listeners’ listening habits. That’s great — there are many paying $9.99 per year who would never buy music otherwise — and the more prominent labels are certainly profiting. But the danger is in pushing listeners who qualify as ‘fans’ to passive listening habits. Labels and artists need to do the opposite: motivate listeners away from radio (Spotify) and into fandom (Bandcamp and their own websites).

Tony Wilson’s Three-Way Proposition

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Lest we forget, Factory Records impresario Tony Wilson was a digital music pioneer. Marking 13 years ago today since his untimely death, The Guardian profiled Wilson’s ill-fated start-up, Music33. This venture was an online MP3 store, launched three years before the iTunes shop (but, to be fair, a couple of years after eMusic). 

Wilson approached the majors, but they wouldn’t get on board. If you remember, the prominent record labels were, at the time, adamantly opposed to download stores and even more resistant to unbundling songs from their albums, a built-in feature of Music33. “People want to buy songs,” Wilson insisted. He did enlist some cool indie labels like Skam (home to Boards of Canada), Mark Rae’s Grand Central, and Blood and Fire. The latter was a dub/reggae reissue label that I adored and had no idea until today that Simply Red’s Mick Hucknall was partly responsible. 

Music33 didn’t go well, ahead of its time like a lot of Tony Wilson’s endeavors. Download speeds circa 2000 didn’t cooperate, users had to redeem their purchases via passwords, and the management of micro-payments was impossible. Music33 was doomed to fail. 

In just a few years, technology solved all of those problems for Music33’s successors. But there was one idea Wilson had that didn’t carry over to our modern paradigm. From The Guardian piece: 

Wilson conceived Music33 as an online record store. The price of a song would be split three ways – 11p apiece for the website, for the artist and for their record label. Wilson felt, as he told me in 2000, that “these shits” – the labels – “saying to the artists: ‘You can have so much per cent’ can go screw themselves.”

The three-way split is an intriguing proposition. That arrangement strongly favors the artist as, after recouping, the artist also gets part of that label split — or all of it, if self-released. That’s in addition to a mandatory third of the total proceeds. Of course, the artist would need to be in direct contact with the store to get her 1/3 share which is problematic. But, as we’re dreaming here, imagine that neighboring rights organizations like SoundExchange handle the artist’s portion. That direct relationship for artist payments already exists with SoundExchange, and gathering performers’ royalties from downloads (or streaming) isn’t that far from what the organization already does.

What if Music33 had taken off and set the tone for the structure of download payments, evolving into the standard rates for streaming payouts? With artists guaranteed to receive at least 33% of streaming royalty, today’s landscape would look quite different. 

Update: As I tweeted, songwriters and publishers would still get the short end of the stick in Music33’s alternate timeline.

🔗→ ‘You’ve been smoking too much!’: the chaos of Tony Wilson’s digital music revolution

Surviving Spotify’s Future Landscape

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There’s a lot of chatter about Daniel Ek’s recent interview with Musically’s Stuart Dredge. There are more than a few nuggets to dissect, but this one is getting the most attention:

“There is a narrative fallacy here, combined with the fact that, obviously, some artists that used to do well in the past may not do well in this future landscape, where you can’t record music once every three to four years and think that’s going to be enough,” said Ek. […] “I feel, really, that the ones that aren’t doing well in streaming are predominantly people who want to release music the way it used to be released …”

As Liz Pelly has explored on The Baffler, Spotify seems intent on influencing artists to tailor their music to benefit the platform. Yes, some point out that in past decades artists used to release 1 or 2 albums every year, so what Ek proposes is nothing new. But the difference is that artists now almost solely rely on touring for income. It’s impossible for most acts to frequently take months off to record a succession of albums without dire financial risk. No doubt you’ve heard the common refrain that bands used to tour to promote album releases, and now it’s the other way around. 

PRS’s Tom Gray illustrates this using The Beatles as an example. The Beatles stopped touring to concentrate on their studio work and, to Ek’s satisfaction, released a lot more than an album every few years. It’s doubtful a 2020 Beatles could do the same. Without touring income, they would be in the hole. Here’s Tom’s take (click here to read the full thread):

Tom’s numbers get a little fudgey — studio costs and such don’t need to be that high these days — but the point stands. The Spotify age is not kind to bands that camp out in studios. (The streaming model is even crueler to those who write songs but don’t perform, but that’s a whole other harrowing tale I’ll save for another time.)

Damon Krukowski challenges Ek’s statement by looking at current Spotify earnings from his former band, Galaxie 500. Krukowski points out that the band hasn’t released anything in over 20 years so, by Ek’s reasoning, they shouldn’t do well in ‘this future landscape.’ But they get more than one million streams a month. That’s pretty good, right? God knows I wish my catalog got half those monthly streams. 

You might think those numbers put Krukowski and Galaxie 500 in the musical middle class. Instead, those streams amount to about $1250 per band member a month. Here’s Damon (click here to read the full thread):

The concern isn’t what Ek refers to as the ‘top tier’ artists. Those are doing fine. The top artists have always done fine. And, for a variety of factors, they can (for now) live off Spotify royalties and the other compounding advantages of fame and exposure. The problem is the disruption of music’s middle class. This sector relied financially for most of this century (so far) on touring. And with COVID-19 in the air, the absence of touring and the diminished value of recorded music creates a crisis. Music’s middle class was already disappearing — in 2021, it could be gone entirely.1Be sure to put a pin on the idea that this disappearing middle class is reflective of income disparity in our society at large.

That’s what this interview — and Bob Lefsetz’s defense of Spotify — glosses over. Of course, wildly successful artists, with tens or hundreds of millions of plays a month, make good money from streaming. And it’s disingenuous to imply that artists complain because they feel entitled to the same. I can confidently speak for most artists that we just want an opportunity to earn a living through our music. Opportunity is not entitlement. Even though an artist’s ‘middle class’ was always precarious, there’s very little chance now to make it work. 

The implication from Ek is — and he’s not that far off — in the eyes of Spotify, you’re either a superstar or an unknown. The insult is Ek saying that the latter position is mostly the artist’s fault because she’s a Luddite who’s not “putting the work in.”

(I’m reminded of this insightful quote from author Nancy Baym: “It’s amazing to me to see how so many careers, in music and beyond, have shifted such that it’s no longer enough to do the work. Now you have to do the work of making sure everyone is seeing that you’ve done the work.”) 

But I’m not placing all the blame on Ek, streaming, and the Napster guys who let this genie out of the bottle. All of that became inevitable as soon as the first ones-and-zeroes were digitally encoded on a compact disc. But as listeners and recording artists, we play a part by accepting the notion that Spotify is unavoidable and necessary. Yes, I believe that Spotify is not going anywhere. And I doubt they’ll change anything except notch their monthly price up a dollar or two in a few years. What it’s essential also to understand is we’re not obligated to play along. 

As concerned recording artists, we don’t necessarily need to remove our music from Spotify (though, if you do exit the platform, good on you). The key is to treat streaming as the entrance of a marketing funnel to lead potential fans to our sites and mailing lists. Let’s look at it as if it’s radio. Radio in the US egregiously doesn’t pay a royalty to performers, but performers still allow their music on the radio as it’s an entry for new listeners. But they never say, “You should only listen to my music on the radio.” 

Or as a more musically-inclined Tyler Durden might say: “The first rule of Spotify is you do not talk about Spotify.” Only post links to your site or a store like Bandcamp. Seriously — there is no reason to send your fans to Spotify. The distant hope that the company will return the favor by adding your song to one of their big playlists is a broken motivation.

As listeners, we have a responsibility, too. I frequently write about the seductive appeal of streaming — I know I can’t resist effortlessly accessing an album or band that I just learned about. But we should also support the artists we enjoy by directly purchasing their music, ordering their merchandise, and signing up for their mailing lists. It’s not that difficult, and these gestures mean a lot to the artists. And, like musical Tyler, we should spread the word by posting to our favorite artists’ websites and Bandcamp pages, not Spotify players. 

We’ll all benefit the sooner we start thinking of Spotify as an occasional sampling tool instead of a go-to listening necessity. Let’s happily hand the platform over to the ‘top tier’ with their frequent releases and domination of playlists. It’s evident from the interview that’s who Ek has in mind for his company, anyway (besides Joe Rogan, of course). 

Bandcamp’s ‘Imperialism’

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There’s a solid profile of Bandcamp in The Guardian with insight into the company and its founder Ethan Diamond. The piece also features quotes from former Galaxie 500 drummer and present digital music critic Damon Krukowski about how an essential element of fandom is the exercising of agency:

The direct connection between fans, artists and labels, whether it’s leaving a positive review or paying an extra few pounds because it’s your favourite artist, is about “being an agent, rather than a passive participant,” [Krukowski] says. “When you have not surrendered your agency, it makes perfectly natural sense to think, ‘What can I do with that agency to take some action?'”

But then the piece strikes a strange note when it reaches for criticism of the Bandcamp platform. There’s so much love for the service — especially right now — that it was probably tough to find someone to give a negative quote or two. In the end, it’s an unnamed ambient artist (not sure if anonymity is warranted here but okay) and his comments are head-scratchers: 

“As a non-American,” he says in an email, “I object to the idea that my music is used by Bandcamp to push what are essentially American political messages, regardless of whether I agree with the spirit of the message. I view it as a form of American cultural imperialism that is ignorant of the international user base.”

I believe it’s a desirable quality for a company to focus concern on where it’s based. It shows that, for one thing, you’re not dealing with a global behemoth (or one currently with those aspirations). And we’re also getting the voice (and, sure, brand) of the people in charge — they’re addressing problems affecting them and their community. Oakland is Bandcamp’s home, and Diamond has Oakland (and American) concerns. I consider that a feature, not a bug.

Many artists donated their Bandcamp sales to charitable causes on June 5th and June 19th. It was good to see some artists pledge to causes addressing their communities — such as M. Sage’s Cattails & Scrap Tactics, which donated to Chicago’s My Block My Hood My City. I have no ties to Chicago, but I was happy for the artist to use the proceeds in this way upon my purchase of the album. And it gives a personal brush-stroke to the artist — knowing what he cares about adds to my appreciation and connection.

Besides, it will do us all good to think locally more often. The internet is good at conditioning us to ignore the things — and injustices — happening right in front of us.

As for imperialism (?), is it the same if a Hungarian company I bought from gave donations to a Hungarian charity? I’m for supporting any company or individual improving their vicinity and encouraging good deeds. The countries that make positive changes influence us all and set examples for others to follow. That’s important, no matter who does it. 

There’s also the Barry Crimmons joke (often recounted by Bill Hicks) about people who ask why, if he’s so critical of the US, he doesn’t move elsewhere: “What, and become a victim of our foreign policy?” That’s a vintage quote but now, more than ever, local change is global.

The mystery artist has more thoughts:

The artist has set up a separate webstore to underline what he sees as an unhealthy dominance of the underground music market. “Bandcamp should be a tool to help artists and labels achieve an end, not the cultural statement in itself. What began as a liberating force is starting to fester into a rigid dead end, stifling the creative freedom of artists by indirectly and facelessly demanding they comply with the cultural standards they dictate to us.”

This opinion sounds like more tiring ‘musicians should just shut up and make music‘ talk. For one thing, Bandcamp’s donations come out of their take, so it’s not like anyone’s forcing the artists to ‘comply.’ And, in my opinion, we should treasure companies that take stands1And, yes, that includes causes that I disagree with. Discerning the owner’s predilections makes it easier to know where to spend my cash. Understandably, this is scary for many companies and their owners, and it’s a form of bravery we should welcome. It tells us they still have a foothold in their communities and aren’t obsessed with scale and the ‘please everyone’ mindset that comes with scale. From a tech company, that’s refreshing. It’s the opposite of Facebook’s refusal to moderate inciting and misleading content for fear of appearing to take sides. Inadvertently, that’s become a ‘stand’ of its own and look where it’s gotten them.

I do agree with one action taken by the unnamed artist. “The artist has set up a separate webstore …” That’s an excellent move. As terrific as Bandcamp is, it’s a mistake to solely rely on the platform — or any third party platform — as an artist’s sole window to her audience and potential fanbase. One should think of Bandcamp as merely a tool and not the hub, the same as Facebook and all the others. An artist’s own website is always the preferable destination.