8Sided Blog

the scene celebrates itself

Choosing Your Input and Collaborating With Ghosts

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I’m fascinated by Steven Soderbergh’s year-end Seen, Read list. The director’s started each new year since 2017 with a day-by-day record of everything he watched, read, and listened to in the previous year. Soderbergh recently unveiled 2019’s list, and it shows that he began the year watching a documentary on Area 51 and ended the year with an obscure ’40s film noir. And judging from everything in between, his media intake is constant and all over the place.

You may wonder how a busy film director and producer has all this leisure time. But is it leisure time? Here’s author and music critic Ted Gioia on the Conversations With Tyler podcast:

In your life, you will be evaluated on your output. Your boss will evaluate you on our output. If you’re a writer like me, the audience will evaluate you on your output. But your input is just as important. If you don’t have good input you cannot maintain good output… I know for a fact I could not do what I do if I was not zealous in managing high quality inputs into my mind every day of my life… This is the reason why I’m able to do this, because I have constant, good quality input, that is the only reason why I can maintain the output.

If you work in a creative field, then you need to have a firehose of input. And that input will directly influence and guide your output. The input isn’t material to copy but is there to provide steady inspiration, affecting creativity’s mental space.

Steven Soderbergh’s media diet is unguided and seemingly unfocused, which opens him to surprises and unexpected creative inspirations. And, in response, his output jumps around genres and styles. There’s not a typical Soderbergh film though there are common threads and themes.

One can also guide the input to focus the output. I remember reading an interview years ago with Robert Smith of The Cure about his creative process. He explained that before recording an album, he selects a playlist of songs that conveys the mood he’s hoping to capture. Then he listens to nothing else but these songs for the entire time that he’s working on the record. That helps him maintain the mindset he’s after, shaping the tone of the album. This practice might be dangerous now that inspiration’s sometimes interpreted as theft, but I believe it’s a great idea to lay these creative foundations. Artists are always collaborating with ghosts, after all. It’s good to curate which ones you let through the door.

🔗→ Seen, Read 2019
🔗→ Ted Gioia on Music as Cultural Cloud Storage (Ep. 79)

Shane Carruth and the Constraint of Frustration

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Shane Carruth on the Set of Upstream Color

Primer and Upstream Color are divisive love-them-or-hate-them movies (full disclosure: I love them both), but filmmaker Shane Carruth should inspire everyone. Artistically, he’s taken ‘control freak’ to new levels by assuming each crucial filmmaking role — writer, director, ‘star,’ cinematographer, editor, music composer, distributor, and others — to maintain a challenging vision and cut costs. We can also apply ‘control freak’ to how his direct authority over these aspects gives him ownership of the end product. If Upstream Color were an album1Actually, the soundtrack album is available, it’s fantastic, and you should listen to it., we’d say that Carruth owns his masters and publishing.

When a creator wishes to do projects on a large scale, full control over rights is the most problematic element to sustain. The funding for big projects is usually traded for a loss of intellectual property rights. That might explain Carruth’s apparent frustration in an interview for The Hot Corn:

“I’ve got a massive thing that I’m doing, and after that I’m gonna get out of this, I’m gonna get out of film after this. I’ve got another half of my life to live and I want to think about charities and finding a way to help people, not doing this bullshit, caring about box office, distribution and all this.”

It’s no wonder that our most independent artists are feeling discouraged as capitalism spirals out of control. On the musician’s side, succumbing to a dependency on corporate platforms like Facebook and Spotify is stifling. It’s artistically dispiriting to rely on partners who care little about the craft that goes into a perennial work.

That’s why artists should create their own models. If we work in a niche and desire an impactful statement of our design, then we need to accept that the tech-giants aren’t on our side. There will be compromises to these new models — we probably won’t be able to fund ambitious projects like The Modern Ocean — but constraints help make great art. We need to prepare ourselves because the large, investor-driven platforms we rely on are going to leave music behind. They’ve already started. And we prepare by forming networks, our own distribution outlets, and doubling down on our niches and existing audiences. This route is possible when we use the powerful tools of the internet for our benefit, not to add additional value to a corporate interest through our content and access to our fanbases.

I imagine the interviewer caught Shane Carruth on a bad day. The filmmaker has already embraced progressive release models and knows what they offer. After all, he self-distributed Upstream Color from a website the same day as its limited theatrical launch. That feat was bold and forward-thinking at the time, and it would be both those things today. Hopefully, Carruth will combine a need to help people with his talent for innovative story-telling and develop many meaningful films. It’s doubtful he’ll match the preferred scale of the abandoned projects that inspire his frustration. But I don’t doubt any new work will prove impactful because of Carruth’s insistence on total independence as a guiding artistic constraint.

🔗→ Shane Carruth on The Dead Center and why he’s quitting film for good
🔗→ Your Daily Reminder That Gigantic Media Corporations Are Bad and Cinema is Suffering

How Songwriters Got Thrown Into a Minefield

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I’d like to highlight a couple of informative and disconcerting articles about the state of infringement litigation in the wake of the “Blurred Lines” decision. Both pieces are worth a full read.

In The New York Times, Jon Caramanica writes that It’s Got a Great Beat, and You Can File a Lawsuit to It:

Originality is a con: Pop music history is the history of near overlap. Ideas rarely emerge in complete isolation. In studios around the world, performers, producers and songwriters are all trying to innovate just one step beyond where music currently is, working from the same component parts. It shouldn’t be a surprise when some of what they come up with sounds similar — and also like what came before.

The idea that this might be actionable is the new twist. Every song benefits from what preceded it, whether it’s a melodic idea, a lyrical motif, a sung rhythm, a drum texture. A forensic analysis of any song would find all sorts of pre-existing DNA. […]

What’s left in its wake is a climate of fear. In some recent cases, you can sense pre-emptive gamesmanship, as when Taylor Swift gave a writing credit to Right Said Fred for a cadence on “Look What You Made Me Do” that recalled “I’m Too Sexy.” Or the rapid settlement Sam Smith reached with Tom Petty for perceived similarities between “Stay With Me” and “I Won’t Back Down.” Whether there was a direct borrowing didn’t seem to matter; the potential for the perception of theft was enough to instigate an arrangement.

A few years ago, I worked with a songwriter who unexpectedly received a writer’s credit on a previously unheard new song. No one contacted this songwriter beforehand — the credit just suddenly appeared on publishing statements. It turns out the ‘hook’ for the new song was similar to the chorus in a well-known composition the songwriter penned in the ’70s. My songwriter friend didn’t mind and probably wouldn’t have litigated, but was happy with the outcome — the new song ended up a worldwide , resulting in a nice payout.

I’m sure this decision — as is the case with most of these preemptive moves — was made by the label’s legal team. I imagine a group of on-staff musicologists pouring over every potential hit song looking for the vaguest of similarities. The lawyers are alerted of any resemblance and the original writers are proactively paid off with a credit and publishing share. I find this risky as it informs the original writer of the similarity. Even with the credit, I don’t think anything is stopping a writer from claiming copyright infringement, that it’s an unauthorized derivative work. A court might see the publicly acknowledged credit as admission. But of course, payment for essentially doing nothing is appreciated, so why bother with the hassle of going legal, right?

In Rolling Stone, Amy X. Wang explains How Music Copyright Lawsuits Are Scaring Away New Hits:

While copyright laws used to protect only lyrics and melodies (a prime example is the Chiffons’ successful suit against George Harrison in 1976 for the strong compositional similarities between his “My Sweet Lord” and their “He’s So Fine”), the “Blurred Lines” case raised the stakes by suggesting that the far more abstract qualities of rhythm, tempo, and even the general feel of a song are also eligible for protection — and thus that a song can be sued for feeling like an earlier one. […] “They’re trying to own basic building blocks of music, the alphabet of music that should be available to everyone,” [Katy] Perry’s lawyer Christine Lepera warned in the case’s closing arguments. […]

The popularity of cheap music-production software, which offers the same features to every user, has added another layer of risk. “Music is now more similar than it is different, for the first time,” [prodcuer and songwriter Ross]Golan says. “People are using the same sample packs, the same plug-ins, because it’s efficient.”

Instrument plug-ins, to be intuitive and easy to use, tend to push users in creative directions. Certain built-in sounds rise to the top, as do sequences and arpeggiations included in the presets. Though these are sounds and one can’t necessarily be sued for a sound (though it has happened!), the inspiration provided by the built-in options potentially send producers to common destinations. A similar five-note motif using a shared patch or a melodic run from an embedded sequence pattern opens up an incentive to take action. Based on what we’ve seen, it’s uncertain a jury would understand the nuance.

And there are potential problems with services like Splice that offer samples and construction kits used by multiple producers. More than one song can easily feature the same melodic building block, and some sample pack offerings from Splice and other services even include lyrics. If a song based on a Splice melodic loop becomes a hit, what happens to the other songs using the same hook?

With copyright protectors like Content ID, it’s who-gets-there-first when it comes to commercially available sample packs. If there’s more than one song using a sample pack melody, the first applying for Content ID stakes the claim. Other songs using that melody might get flagged. This issue has happened in the past with Apple Loops, as producers discovered if they used specific melodic loops included with Logic Pro, the songs would get blocked by YouTube for infringing an earlier song using the same loop.

Even if a sample isn’t used in its blatant form, or is obscured or twisted in the mix, it likely provides the same inspiration as other producers hearing the same sample. It’s not unrealistic to think similar ideas, melodies, or compositional seeds will result from a shared inspirational foundation. Unless there’s future legal clarification — or the courts decide to rely on experts rather than juries in infringement cases1Manager Lucas Keller says in the Rolling Stone article: “In British court, they’d just ask a musicologist to decide. In American court, we bring in 10 random people.” — paying out ‘damages’ and carving out writing shares will be an expected ritual for composers of hit songs.

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

Looking Back to Go Forward

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Predicting is a slippery business. We can spot trends and have a general idea where things are going, but how can we accurately predict? Is it worth the effort? Alvin Toffler said that “No serious futurist deals in prediction,” while Warren Ellis stays out of the game as “it’s a quick way to look like an idiot.”

For example, in the ’90s, there were plenty of yearly predictions, but few that foresaw the approaching tsunami of the internet, soon to wipe away the music industry. Some accurate predictions, or at least ones that the powers-that-be would listen to, would have been helpful. Instead, there were a lot of ‘idiots.’1I didn’t see the tsunami coming, either.

David Bowie was known for his prescience, and he wasn’t afraid to casually lay down a prediction or two. After all, it’s the seasoned player — but one open to changing possibilities rather than in resistance or denial — who has great insight on the future. The young are often seduced by the new, while nostalgia binds the oldsters. But some are like Bowie, using tradition and history as lenses for viewing technological disruption.

Here’s what David Bowie told the New York Times in 2002:

“Music itself is going to become like running water or electricity … So it’s like, just take advantage of these last few years because none of this is ever going to happen again. You’d better be prepared for doing a lot of touring because that’s really the only unique situation that’s going to be left. It’s terribly exciting. But on the other hand it doesn’t matter if you think it’s exciting or not; it’s what’s going to happen.”

The idea seems quaint now but, in 2002 — the age of Friendster! — Bowie’s words were a shot across the bow. The most radical part is his acceptance, a confidence that the genie is loose, and the bottle is rolling down a hill. Only a few in the industry felt this way. Instead, there was the grasping, the hanging on, the desire to extend the status quo of inflated compact disc profits.

Some more from Bowie:

“ I don’t even know why I would want to be on a label in a few years, because I don’t think it’s going to work by labels and by distribution systems in the same way,” he said. ”The absolute transformation of everything that we ever thought about music will take place within 10 years, and nothing is going to be able to stop it. I see absolutely no point in pretending that it’s not going to happen. I’m fully confident that copyright, for instance, will no longer exist in 10 years, and authorship and intellectual property is in for such a bashing.”

Again, crazy talk for 2002. Of course, copyright does still exist, but Bowie wasn’t too far off. The magnitude of user-generated content and YouTube’s use of ‘safe harbor’ under the DMCA was unforeseeable, from a copyright perspective, in 2002. It turns out Napster was the pre-show.

But this disruption isn’t total. That’s why it’s wise to listen to voices that can look back and understand how technological developments fit within longstanding traditions. We can change how we listen to music, but we’re still listening to music in the same way. We can change how we make music, but we’re still essentially making music in the same way. Our incentives remain untouched by the march of progress.

Looking forward is important for reasons of preparation and, as my friend Craig says, “going where the puck’s headed instead of simply chasing the puck.” But we should always remember why we’re here. Despite all the talk of AI and VR and which tech company is acquiring a different tech company, we want to love music. We want to get excited and tell our friends and exist in this music universe as social beings. David Bowie is right that changes are happening whether we like it or not. But the exciting part is working out how these changes bring us together as music fans. To lose sight of why we’re here is as misguided as chasing the genie’s bottle down that hill.

With that in mind, I participated in SynchTank’s Trends to Watch in 2020 (‘trends,’ not ‘predictions’), joined by three industry pundits of serious smartness. Bucking Ellis and his quote above, their predictions are wise and thought-out, and their proximity to my opinion certainly helps my case.

I’ve been thinking a lot about social media and an artist’s fealty to corporate platforms. My contribution to the Trends piece reflects this and combines prediction with a dose of wishful thinking:

Over the past decade, artists and labels — using technological tools — have become increasingly independent, capturing control and ownership of publishing, masters, and avenues of distribution. But independent marketing fell into the trojan horse of social media, with many artists exclusively relying on the likes of Facebook to get the message out. The keys to discoverability were firmly in the hands of a new crop of corporate gatekeepers.

Undesirable actions by these platforms — such as algorithmically cutting access to fans and unrepentant involvement in political and privacy scandals — started opening eyes to the pitfalls of this reliance. Displeasure continues to grow as these companies fight back by further segmenting audiences and requiring even larger ‘boosts’ to reach one’s fans. The 2020 election — a looming social media shit-show — will move this dissatisfaction even more into the mainstream.

Thus, independent artists are increasingly introducing homegrown strategies that are entirely within their control. We see this in the rising talk of reclaiming fandom, direct support of artists, and the importance of individual ‘stories.’ And we see new twists on old concepts. Email lists, creative artist sites, blogs, localized grassroots outreach — tactics that predated social media, now coming together with the latest technological innovations to form a new breed of DIY.

In the aftermath, social media will remain a tool, but merely a tool — downgraded but still handy. It’s a hammer, not a house. Independent artists will understand that, along with increased interest in owning masters and administering rights, control over how artists reach and interact with their audiences is just as vital.

The point stands: technological breakthroughs, especially those that promise too-easy solutions or purport to disrupt, should face the lens of tradition. We relied on these technologies — these shortcuts — to deliver our messages to fans. We believed online connections were authentic when, in fact, our fanbase was closer to commodity, inaccessible and exploited in our names. Instead, we should use technological tools to claim our rights, creative works, and fanbases, not to transfer these to others. That transfer is the easy route, and unfortunately, it’s what the technology was built to offer.

That’s why I’m looking back as I go forward. The future is filled with possibilities that are promising and, yes, others that are terrifying. But considering the roots of why we act like humans — how our intentions are evergreen — can keep us sober and grounded as technology continues to seduce and overwhelm. Our decisions and actions as artists and listeners should rely on our deepest fundamentals and a core understanding of what brought us here. So, TL;DR: In 2020, let your love of music be your guide.

🔗→ David Bowie, 21st-Century Entrepreneur
🔗→ Music Industry Analysts on the Trends to Watch in 2020

Foreign Dissent: International Punk Rock in a Digital Age

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Craig Mazer frequented Bad Mood Records, the rag-tag record store I owned 25-ish years ago. He was active and instrumental in Florida’s punk rock scene and published a slick-but-not-too-slick newsprint fanzine called IMPACT. Decades later, and here I am doing my thing in music-land, and Craig’s still championing the local punk rock scene. Give some credit to the lifers.

For six consecutive years, Craig’s promoted an Orlando event that might’ve been unimaginable without the internet. It’s called Foreign Dissent, and the idea is to showcase mostly undiscovered punk rock bands from all over the world to Orlando’s scenesters. It’s a diplomatic gesture from a group of fans that often get misconstrued as antagonistic and uncompromising. But punk rock is a welcoming tribe. It’s always fostered connections and curiosity among its global family. For example, my punk rock adolescence involved trading fanzines and cassettes across the ocean to addresses in exotic places like Croatia and Poland, usually copied from the classifieds in Maximum Rocknroll.

This year’s Foreign Dissent — held Monday, October 28 at the respected local venue Will’s Pub — features five countries across eight raucous bands. Denmark, Canada, Northern Ireland, Italy, and England are present, their representatives united by independence, rebellion, and a love for this music and lifestyle. Here’s the flyer:

We know that punk rock is the most DIY of music genres, its historic DIY-ness an unspoken influence on today’s shift to self-release and toward self-reliance. But punk rock was doing this when the internet was basically two guys at a military base sending chess moves to each other. How has the scene adapted to an age where the idea of DIY promotion only conjures social media tactics? Are ‘the old ways’ of punk rock word-of-mouth, city-to-city networking, and flyer slinging still in the mix?

I’m curious, and Craig Mazer — whose promotion of Foreign Dissent happens under the punkily named Punching Babies — obliged my question. “I don’t see too many people handing out flyers. I think it has largely moved to social media as the main avenue for promoting. I do still see posters put up, and I’m sure that word of mouth is still important, but social media, to me, is the main avenue.”

He continues: “Social media is where so many people are. Between Facebook and Instagram, you have a huge audience right there. Now, the question of how effective it is is debatable, but it’s undoubtedly effective to some extent. Personally, I still love the DIY aspect, so I still put up posters and flyers at shows.”

It’s interesting because promoting punk rock was once different than promoting rock n’ roll or bands of other music genres. Just as the internet has lowered the barriers of musical preferences, it’s somewhat homogenized how we promote music. But how does social media — run by corporations of a size that would make Jello Biafra have a seizure back in the day — fit into punk rock?

Craig: “Man, that’s a tough one. I don’t know that it fits into punk rock as much as punk rock has had to give in to it. Social media is so pervasive. And it’s free (putting aside the idea of buying ads on social media), so it would be foolish not to have some amount of promotional presence on it for an event. It also allows for the ease of sharing and spreading the promotion, which can help a lot.”

But there is an upside that enhances punk rock’s tight, idealistic community. Craig adds: “I think that elements of the punk ethos have ‘weaponized’ social media by calling out abusers in the scene, exposing shitty booking practices or venues that are discriminatory.”

I remember local fanzines serving that purpose. People would even make one-off fanzines to expose certain undesirable elements in the scene. It seems that sort of scene networking has moved onto social media spaces.

Craig: “Yeah, definitely. That said, i don’t remember at any time in the ’90s that there was a means (or even much of a chorus of voices) for exposing that kind of stuff. There has been a huge wave of empowerment around it in the last 5-10 years.”

Canada's Bad Waitress are playing Foreign Dissent 6 in Orlando
Canada’s Bad Waitress are playing Foreign Dissent 6

I’m sure the internet makes one other thing a lot easier — organizing an international punk rock showcase. Says Craig, “It would have been very difficult 20 years ago. Even ten years ago, maybe. The internet is truly key, both for the organization of it upfront, but then also for the logistics and communications necessary as it gets closer to the day of show. I couldn’t imagine what it would have been like for a foreign band to organize a tour back in the ’90s, like when I booked tours for [legendary Orlando punk band] Shyster and had to use a (gasp) phone.”

But some things haven’t changed despite the internet. Getting punk rock bands into the US is still a hassle. Probably even more of a hassle.

Craig: “When I did the first Foreign Dissent six years ago, I had no idea what I was getting into. I hadn’t considered that these bands generally aren’t traveling with any gear. Getting into the US is hard enough, but if they come with all their gear, they’ll get tagged as coming here to work. And these small bands can’t afford work visas for a trip where they are probably going to lose money as it is. So I had to quickly scramble to find amps, a drum kit, and everything else. Some amazing friends in the music scene now loan their gear for the backline, or the bands borrow from other bands playing or buy something inside the US.”

But for Craig and many other promoters passionately exposing new acts, the hassle is worth it. “For many of these bands, it’s their first time in the US. And for some, Foreign Dissent is literally the first show they’ve ever played over here. That’s such a fulfilling feeling for me, to be able to give them that opportunity.”

Don’t Reveal Your Magic

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I often say that when I was in college, the bands I liked were the ones that seemed to know something I didn’t. The cool ones who referenced art, obscure film, and philosophy created sounds in a way that didn’t seem possible. This hidden knowledge — clues that there were things out there that I was not privy to, waiting for discovery — was a constant tension. The tension not only brought me to these bands, but, in a way, I remained in this tension as a ”fan.” The tension was a thrill, a tingle, a feeling of being a part of something even though I didn’t fully understand.

I relate this experience to bands and musicians that I’m working with today. Social media and the pressure to be unapologetically accessible to fans has removed some of the tension. All the cards are on the table, and the fans know exactly how the magic gets performed. But there’s still a place for mystique and intrigue. And for drawing in new fans who delight in the tension of an enigma.

We can extend this tension across other art forms – movies, painting, even literature. David Lynch’s third season of Twin Peaks is a great example. Left unexplained by both the medium and Lynch himself, the latest run of Twin Peaks wasn’t for everyone. Even some OG Twin Peaks fans I know gave up on it. But the show and art like it still attract die-hard viewers that revel in the tension of the impenetrable. It’s the same tingle I mentioned above – the feeling that these people know something you don’t, and the key to unlocking the secret is hidden deep within the work. Searching for that key is the tension, and it’s a tension that connects fans and tribes. It’s a tension that keeps us coming back.

The Seven Book Challenge

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You’ve probably seen this floating around on social media: “Post seven books you love, one book per day, no explanations, no reviews, just covers. Each day you will ask a friend to take up the challenge.” I was challenged before and participated on Twitter. Since then I’ve been challenged a few more times, so I thought I’d make it into a blog post. Here are my seven books:

I do want to give a quick explanation. Yes, these are books I love, but I also chose the books that had the most significant impact. I read most of these as a teenager or in my early 20s. All of these books changed the way I looked at the world in some way. Someone (I can’t find the reference) called these types of books ‘earthquake books’ because they shake your foundation. I wouldn’t necessarily recommend them all — I bet the Industrial Culture Handbook hasn’t aged well — but these books perfectly lined up with my age and what I was pondering at the time. These books are a window into what shaped me.

And books continue to shape. I was an avid reader the first 25 years of my life, but let it go as my eyesight worsened.1 I suffer from an eye condition called keratoconus. And I never warmed up to audiobooks — I don’t retain information through listening as I do with reading. About three years ago, thanks to improvements in available contact lenses and apps like Marvin for the iPad, I picked up the habit again. It wasn’t easy to get back on the book train — out of practice, I was a slow reader at first — but now I’m catching up on all the recommendations I’ve gathered over the years.

The seven books above are quite different than what I read now, but make sense in context. Presently I’m finishing Ted Chiang’s Stories of Your Life and Others and Ryan Holiday’s new one, Stillness Is The Key, is on deck. I update my recent reads in this blog’s /now section.

Speaking of Ryan Holiday, his article How To Read More — A Lot More is a classic. It helped inspire me when I started reading again and was frustrated by my slow speed.

And check out the podcast 3 Books, which is all about impactful books. Ryan Holiday is the guest on a recent episode. And Seth Godin was a guest a while back — I’ve heard Seth on a lot of podcasts, and this is my favorite of all his appearances.

PS – Oh, right — I’m supposed to challenge someone in return. I challenge you. Please reveal a book that impacted your life in the comments. I need new recommendations!

PPS – I’ll be attending MondoNYC in New York this Thursday and Friday. If you plan to be there, too, hit me up.