8Sided Blog

thoughts about music’s place in the 21st century

What Am I Doing Now? (New Year Edition)

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This month seems like the beginning of a year of transition but, when you think about it, every new year is a year of transition. The flick-of-a-switch from one numbered timeline to the next is arbitrary, but the anticipation of flicking does inspire reflection and taking of stock. This one’s more potent as it’s the start of a new decade. The self-examination was particularly intense this time.

2019 felt like an ‘in-between’ year — like I spent it preparing for something. There were accomplishments and significant moments (like marriage!), but looking back, I see a lot of things getting set up for the future.

What am I setting up? Well, this is the year of 8DSync and going all-in on music publishing and licensing. It’s an area I’ve worked in for two decades but as a side-gig to other endeavors. Now with the help of my colleagues Miguel Bustamante and Craig Snyder, I have brought 8DSync to the forefront. The move makes sense — I am more knowledgable in music publishing than any other music business field, and it’s what I do best. Time to lean in.

Beginning the year, I’m in the process of redesigning the 8DSync website from scratch. Not understanding what I was getting into, I decided to do this redesign myself. The site is looking great, but it’s a work in progress as well as a time-consuming one. I’m adding many artist and release pages over the next few months.

Some of those artists represent new signings to the 8DSync roster. We start the year with these exciting additions: Kingston, New York’s psychedelic Shana Falana, the UK roots-rock act Swampmeat Family Band, Jonathan Brodeur and his power-poptastic Bird Streets project, and a lovely downtempo label out of Ireland called WeGrowWax. There’s also a new album from Scotland’s The Little Kicks on the horizon. That’s a lot of fantastic music to look forward to straight away.

Another of my projects due for a refresh is the 8D Industries label. We took a hiatus as the artists concocted releases, but now it seems likely we’ll have new music from Monta At Odds, San Mateo, and More Ghost Than Man before next summer.

But what about Q-Burns Abstract Message, you ask? I’m working on a new batch of songs, too. It’s all quite different, and I debate even using the Q-BAM moniker, though I probably will. I’d like to have a consistent slate of releases this year — perhaps a series or 3 or 4 song EPs — which will be a challenge. I must remind myself that we make the time, we don’t find the time.

And there’s a ton of writing in my future. The 8sided blog is an integral part of my life, and I enjoy working on it. I’m meeting cool new people through it, too (drop me a line anytime). I have internal debates over what this blog is exactly — is it a place for music industry commentary, or reviews and notes on the culture, or can I get personal, or can I get silly? I’m leaning towards it being all these things. But one thing I plan to examine repeatedly is how we’ve grown to rely on the biggest corporations in history for the dissemination of our art. How do we maintain our independence as the tech-giants chip it away? That’s the theme of the blog if there is one.

For over a year, I’ve been threatening to start a newsletter. All the cool kids are doing it, and I want to hang with the cool kids. Well, it’s ready to launch, and it has a name: Ringo Dreams of Lawn Care. What’s that about, right? Just bear with me. The newsletter will be different than the blog though I’m not sure how yet. The first few ideas for issues are more personal, more story-oriented. I’ll base it on my experiences juggling all these things — the publishing company, the label, Q-BAM — and the trials of working in the music industry from outside of the music industry. I’m sure I’ll also write about interesting things I’m reading and watching and hearing, too. It will be good, and I’m setting the first issue free in a few weeks. Please sign up here.

What am I looking for in 2020? Well, besides the replacement of some of our world leaders (omg plz), I’d like more excuses to travel. I already have flights booked for returns to SXSW and MusicBiz, but would enjoy several more chances to ride on airplanes. I’d also like to pick up a couple more consultancy clients this year, whether artists or labels needing help with branding, positioning, and release strategies or companies looking for assistance with music publishing and rights management. And I’d love to advise and collaborate with a cool outsider artist, band, or label — one dedicated to a musical niche with no mainstream aspiration and struggling with being seen in 2020’s ephemeral information whirlpool. If that’s you and you’re willing to do the work, then feel free to get in touch.

One last tidbit: I mentioned SXSW above. I’m thrilled to announce that there will be an 8DSync showcase at the festival this March, featuring many of the artists mentioned above. I’ll have the details soon. I played SXSW a few times as Q-BAM in the past, but I’ve never been on the organizing side of a showcase. So that’s exciting.

OK, you didn’t ask for it, but now you’re up to date on my activities. And, as a byproduct of this ramble, I have a clearer idea of what I’d like to do over the next few months. 2020 is the year when all that table-setting in 2019 pays off. Now I’d like to hear from you. What are your big plans? Is there an opportunity for us to work together, or bounce around some ideas? I’m game. I have the feeling this could be our year.

Vaughan Oliver's Invitation to Decode

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Vaughan Oliver - Pixies Cover Art

My first job was at a record shop (Camelot Music, a staple of ’80s shopping malls), and I enjoyed a generous employee discount. That offered the freedom to purchase records based on the cover art — if the cover’s cool, the music’s gotta be cool, right? — and a lot of those records would be released on the seminal British label 4AD. The enticing cover art was by 23 Envelope, the design team of Vaughan Oliver and photographer Nigel Grierson.

Years ago, I wrote about the power of cover art in a tribute to Factory Records boss Tony Wilson. There was a cool record shop in the beach town where my grandmother lived. It was next to the grocery store, so, while visiting my grandmother, I’d pop in to look at records when she’d go for groceries. I was 12 or 13 years old and recall seeing those early New Order records — Movement and Everything’s Gone Green — sitting in the mysterious bin labeled ‘imports.’ These records were strange, not like anything that I’d seen, and it was impossible to resist their vibe. It would be a couple more years until I heard these records, but the sound, the feeling, wasn’t that far off from the cover art’s first impressions. The designer was Peter Saville, often mentioned in influence alongside Vaughan Oliver, and it was like he was transmitting signals to me across the Atlantic.

That’s what remarkable cover art — or design in general — does to us. It’s an invitation to decode, revealing (or hinting at) the intention of the creator. Or, as Oliver told an interviewer, “[An album] cover should work as an entrance door that invites you to cross it.”

Clan of Xymox - cover art by Vaughan Oliver

It’s not a stretch to believe there would be a lot fewer graphic designers in the world if not for Vaughan Oliver and Peter Saville. I can’t think of a single designer friend of a specific age range that wasn’t significantly inspired by the outputs of 4AD and Factory. But it wasn’t only budding designers who received inspiration. There are also a lot more independent labels because of these designs. Or a lot more labels that approached everything they did as a representative package.

Oliver understood that the appeal he added to 4AD was emotional, that fans of the label picked up on common threads and identified a community. Oliver stated, “This was kind of branding before branding—and I generally don’t use the word branding—but it was creating a vibe that made you trust in something.” He continued:

I was always a bit wary of putting an identity on the label itself, but I wanted individual identities for the bands that were consistent. Then, with time, you would see a thread start to appear. There was a unity, but without a corporate branding stamp on it. It was very fluid. Eventually, it became an emotional response that people had with the work. Thirty years later, I’m talking to students who call it “emotional branding”—how people become emotionally involved in what we were doing. I’ve got clients who ask, “How can we have that now?” I say, “We don’t have that now. It builds with time; it also builds with the quality of the product.”

It’s a challenge to create this emotional community without the tangible effects of a physical totem. It’s not impossible — many well-crafted artist websites successfully transmit intention to potential fans. But basing an artist’s vibe on the limitations of a social media platform’s template or a thumbnail in a streaming app is a losing battle. The Guardian’s Ben Beaumont-Thomas said it well: “[Vaughan Oliver’s cover] design tells you that you’re about to go on a journey. With streaming, you’re suddenly teleported in without a map.”

Unlike Oliver, I’m not afraid to use the term ‘branding’ as long as I get to define how I use it. And I define branding, in music, as the promise an artist makes to her audience. That’s the vibe of trust that Oliver refers to above, and it’s essential. An artist or label that gains that trust, that cultivates a community, that repeatedly transmits a signal, becomes a cultural curator. An expectation grows in the listener, and this expectation is a necessary tension. What’s next? Will this label fulfill my expectations? How will this artist continue to reward her community of fans?

That’s how we felt about 4AD. The cover art, the music, the ambiguity allowing us to fill in our own interpretations — these worked together to build our tribe. If, circa 1985, I saw you pick up a Cocteau Twins album in the record store I’d strike up a conversation. We’re in the same club.

I’m sure that Vaughan Oliver, 23 Envelope, and label founder Ivo Watts-Russell partly knew what they were doing. But I also think they stumbled into a lot of this. The point here is that it’s not that difficult. It’s all about developing intention. Understand who you want to reach, as narrowly as possible, and create only for them. Cohesively apply that aesthetic to everything you deliver to the world.

Vaughan Oliver passed away in the final days of 2019. As I commented on Twitter, it’s a triumph to be remembered for a distinctive contribution to culture and style; one that’s identifiably his own as well as freely lent to others. Oliver transitioned to education in his last decade, and that’s fitting. Many of us in the music industry were his students. He taught us all a lot, and, in a more ephemeral digital age, these lessons now serve a higher purpose.

🔗→ Lost worlds of sex and magic: Vaughan Oliver’s album sleeves for 4AD
🔗→ Sight, touch, hearing: an interview with Vaughan Oliver
🔗→ Vaughan Oliver (Interview Magazine)
🔗→ Cover Star: Vaughan Oliver interview
🔗→ interview with graphic designer vaughan oliver

The Legal Argument Formerly Known As Fair Use

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The definition of ‘fair use’ is a muddle. We can accept that fair use might apply if a derivative work doesn’t seek to earn a profit, transforms the original in some way, and won’t discourage purchases of the original work. But the key word there is ‘might.’ it’s all a bit vague, and, in the USA, the definition will vary court-to-court, case-to-case. If you’re going to claim ‘fair use,’ be prepared to defend your interpretation in the legal arena.

Prince’s representatives have tussled with fair use claims before, most famously losing the long-running ‘dancing baby’ case. It turns out a short snippet of a song playing in the background of a home video does fall under fair use. That makes sense.

In the most recent fair use case for the Prince estate, Kian Andrew Habib isn’t as fortunate. Via Complete Music Update:

[Prince’s estate] targeted six videos recorded and uploaded to YouTube by a man called Kian Andrew Habib. The estate’s reps argued that the recordings of Prince’s performance infringed the copyright in the songs being performed. […]

[Habib] reckoned fair use applied because his videos were “non-commercial and transformative in nature … used no more of the original than necessary, and had no negative effect on the market for the work”. […]

[However, a judge ruled that] Habib’s artistic decisions when filming Prince perform did not mean his use of the musician’s songs was “transformative in nature”. And while he may not have directly financially benefited from posting his content to YouTube, by bigging up his videos as being “rare” and “amazing” recordings of Prince performing live he drove traffic to his YouTube channel, thus ensuring he benefited from his use of the musician’s work.

So, there you go. Even though you’re not directly earning a profit, using someone else’s work to build your reputation or follower count qualifies as commercial gain in the eyes of the law. I’m no lawyer, but my sound advice is to be wary of the protective value of fair use.

🔗→ US court rules fair use didn’t apply to unofficial Prince videos on YouTube
🔗→ ‘Dancing Baby’ Wins Copyright Case