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Every Year Feels Like a Year of Transition

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2018 has bolted away like a space probe blazing past Ultima Thule. Cue mass introspection. Sure, dates and years are universally accepted ‘imagined realities’ and, yes, it’s just as fruitful to reevaluate and assess in May as it is on January 1. 1/1/19 ain’t nothing but a number. But, even if we resist, this time of year is still when we think the deepest about our next steps. I believe the general lull of the last two weeks of December is partly to blame: we end up with a lot of time on our hands — time to think for extended periods free of most work distractions — and we’re spending a lot of it in close contact with our families. Reflection and contemplation come naturally.

I’m not any different. My week in the sticks afforded ample time to go over my strategies moving forward, where my goals lie, how I’ve veered off track in 2018, and what else I can do to increase joy in my life. Some of these thoughts are deep — I don’t feel I have a firm grasp on my goals and what they mean to me — and some are tactical. In the latter category, I’ve done another (!) redesign of my daily work routine, a bunch of Omnifocus tweaks (new perspectives and constraints, oh my), and am going to experiment with more incorporation of a calendar in the workflow. I need the discipline that scheduling and time blocking encourages, and I aim to exercise this discipline as if building a skill.

My friend (and fellow altMBA’er) Dean Caravelis has a plan. He publicly listed his 2019 goals for all to see. Dean’s also printing these out and putting the list in a place where he’ll encounter it each day first thing in the morning. I like this.

I’m still thinking about my own goals, but I do know that I’d like to write every single day (and post the result on this blog, but no pressure); I’d like to get at least six new 8D Industries releases in listeners’ hands within a year; I want to read at least two books a month; and I plan on regularly writing and recording new music once again. I know there’s about five more I can come up with and I’m giving this some thought. As I said, it’s that introspective time of year.

Dean has also listed his ‘word of 2019:’ Intentional. The first thing that comes to mind for my 2019 word is ’transitional.’ That might be a cop-out as every year I feel like I’m in transition. But, for some reason, 2019 feels more so — not just for me, but for everyone.

I’m also going to return to my ‘album a day’ practice, which I wrote about here. I’ll do it a little differently — not as strict, and I doubt I’ll regularly post my listening habits on social media — but I think it’s important that I keep my mind fresh with new music daily.

To start, today’s soundtrack is apt: a thoughtful ambient album by Utah’s Grizzly Prospector. Titled dream story, it’s out on the intriguing Japanese label White Paddy Mountain. It’s bright and ringing, recalling vibrating strings, and there are some lovely vocal tracks (nearly a cappella) towards the end. The music gives off an air of future hope, just what the doctor ordered.

Here’s a tip: ‘follow’ your favorite labels and artists on Bandcamp. Then you’ll receive an email when there’s a new release. Create a rule in your email client so that those messages skip your inbox and are automatically archived and grouped into a predesignated folder. Then, when you’re looking for something new and tasty to listen to, open the folder. A list of new releases will be waiting for you. That’s how I ran across Grizzly Prospector.

Cheers to 2019. Let’s make it as good as we can imagine.

Don’t Let Music Become Software

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Above: another pic from the sticks, hope I don’t get ticks. I’m hiding out in this remote location for a couple more days.

I’m a fan of email newsletters — I subscribe to way too many — and one of my favorites is Cherie Hu’s Water & Music. Even outside of the newsletter Hu is one of my favorite music industry writers/pundits, and she seems to reserve her most thought-provoking opinions for the newsletter. And 2018’s final edition of Water & Music, titled ‘The Music Industry’s Inconvenient Truths,’ is a corker.

The premise revolves around answers to the question, “What is one truth about the music industry that very few people agree with you on?” I can’t say I strongly disagree with any of the responses Hu received, and this one bolsters the direction of my consulting work. But it’s Hu’s two answers to the question that elicit the most thought — this newsletter’s been reeling in my head since I read it a few days ago.

Hu’s first answer has familiarity as she’s dropping some Seth Godin knowledge and I just finished his latest book, This Is Marketing. The concept of the ‘smallest viable audience’ is emphasized, which states that an artist should only seek to please his die-hard fans. Musicianship and ‘honing the craft’ remain important, but not at the expense of serving the needs of those who support you. Says Hu:

Let’s put it this way: as long as music can be materialized as an item or activity whose purchase generates revenue for somebody, music is a product. People who buy or engage with a musical product are referred to by the industry as “fans,” so “fan” is just another word for “customer.” Customers buy the products that best satisfy their own needs and desires. So, like in any other industry, the best music products most effectively address customers’ needs and satisfy clearly-defined gaps in the market that other products haven’t filled.

In This Is Marketing, Godin argues that we are all marketers as individuals seeking to make a change in others. For the recording artist, that change is as simple (or complex) as convincing a listener to check out her album rather than someone else’s. Godin then challenges us to think of ourselves as something more than marketers — also as teachers, delivering value and reward to our customers/fans. With a teacher mindset, we’re encouraged to produce meaningful content for those who are paying the most attention.

I could go on and on about this but I’ll save it for a future post. I’m cutting myself short as I can’t wait to get to Hu’s next proclamation: “The word ‘creator’ does more harm than good:”

I understand that the word “creator” might be the simplest, most easily accessible term for addressing all possible users releasing content on a given platform. And don’t get me wrong: democratizing creativity is undeniably a force for good, and the last thing the world should do is give fewer people access to tools for making art and expressing themselves. But who owns and profits from that creativity is an entirely separate debate, in danger of being obfuscated by the widespread adoption and promotion of “creator” as a job title.

It may seem like semantics, but the way we adopt and use language rewires our thinking (hello, George). Hu’s point— which I never considered — is that the more we refer to ourselves as ‘creators,’ the easier it is to submit to the notion that our creations are in fealty to others. Notice how the services almost all use ‘creator’ — a sampling of examples Hu points out include YouTube Creators, Facebook for Creators, Spotify’s “Creator Marketing.’ So when a platform sneakily claims ownership of our work — as Spotify did with its #PraiseV campaign (see Hu’s newsletter) — we’re desensitized against protest. Hu again:

Throughout history, the democratization of creativity has coincided with a dilution of clarity around ownership […] [and] the mechanisms by which other companies can claim IP ownership in a world of democratized creation are becoming much swifter than reading through tens of pages of a record contract.

I feel like the tech platforms — Spotify, Apple, Amazon, et al. — would like us to start thinking of music as software. That is, we’ve ‘created’ something that’s inseparable from their technologies. Just as Omnifocus, my to-do app of choice, won’t run and can’t exist without my iMac, a song can’t exist without Spotify. Then we start thinking of our music as dependent on the platform when, of course, it’s the other way around. 

That’s one thing I love about music publishing. Its framework forces us to think of compositions as separate from the recordings and undetachable from the songwriter. A song isn’t a creation, per se, but an idea tied to an individual (or individuals, if there are co-writers). The tech platforms have had their problems with music publishing, showing that the intimacy of composition may help protect against music becoming software.  But, as Cherie Hu points out, the real battle may be fought through language and how a shift in simple phrasing affects the ownership mindset of future songwriters. Let’s hold on to our ideas and understand that songs are breathing things that exist on their own, platform be damned. Don’t let your music become software.

P.S. — I realize this last bit may seem in contradiction to the first, where it appears I’m referring to songs as product. But it’s not in opposition at all if you understand the type of marketing we’re doing as artists. Godin’s This Is Marketing will help you understand and I recommend it. 

P.P.S.— There’s no disrespect intended to software and software makers. But I feel programmers have a better understanding of their IP rights in the milieu of platform-dependence than songwriters and artists do.

A Punk-Rock Gut Punch

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Another dispatch from out in the sticks. Howdy. Proverbial country road pictured above.

There’s a fantastic photo in NPR’s In Memoriam 2018: The Musicians We Lost. An emotive Glenn Branca is pictured in the center, and this is one of the best concert photos I’ve seen in a while. There’s so much energy there, like a jolt of Jolt. I assume Glenn is pictured in the midst of conducting his guitar-based ‘orchestra.’ 

The In Memoriam piece is striking, as these tend to be. There are a lot of special music folks we’ll be missing in 2019. For me, in addition to Branca, losing Mark E. Smith and Pete Shelley in one year is a punk rock gut-punch.

I don’t need another ‘favorite albums of 2018’ list — going through the ones I have bookmarked already could last well into next summer. I should be listening to 2019 music! But Austin Kleon, via his amazing blog (another inspiration for what I’m trying to do here), turned me onto a tantalizingly diverse ‘best of 2018’ list from music writer Ted Gioia.

Kleon titles his post ‘The Agony of List-Making’ and expresses a frustration with making public recommendations under the scrutiny of the internet mob. Gioia eases his own misgivings by presenting his list alphabetically, not allowing any title to receive a crown above any other. Kleon highlights this quote from Gioia’s list post:

Like any music lover, I enjoy sharing my favorite music with others. But in the last few years, a different motivation has spurred me. I believe that the system of music discovery is broken in the current day. There is more music recorded than ever before, but it is almost impossible for listeners to find the best new recordings …

I believe we are entering another era of music discovery, as listeners experience playlist fatigue and blogs continue to lose sway. These personalized lists, from close friends and selected ones from respected total strangers — chefs, movie directors, music writers, etc. — will hold the real power. Recommendations like these have always been the truest source of discovery. But we — as music fans rather than casual listeners — lost our way for a bit as streaming took hold, fascinated by algorithmic playlists and unlimited access.

Optimistically, these personal interactions of recommendation foster more intimate relationships with our music. On the other hand, this could all be my imagination as friends have been recommending music online since those early-90s message boards. But I do feel like there’s a dissatisfaction with playlist culture and how it’s pushed on us by certain platforms. This is a reason I switched from Spotify to Apple Music, something I’ll write about in the future. And this dissatisfaction will grow as playlists and platform features bow further to corporate influence. I used to wonder why Bandcamp didn’t have a playlisting feature — now I get it.

In other news, Big Shot Magazine kindly asked for a 2018 recap and I delivered a few reflections. I mainly talk about the launch of 8D Industries but I also touch on curbing the news diet, a recurring topic around these parts. The Ryan Holiday quote in the piece should be mentally taped above every screen at home, whether it’s a TV or a laptop:

Perhaps it’s time we realize that consuming more news about the world around us is not the way to improve it (or ourselves), personally or politically.

Holiday has written a few articles on why we should abstain from breaking news. They’re all worth a read. 

I’d also like to point out that I meant to refer to the long album version of “Bunny’s Dream” as a favorite song of the year. The video edit embedded in the article doesn’t quite have the majesty or the sprawl and, like many unsuccessful edits, feels rushed in comparison to the original. 

A question I posed to my social media friends: will people be playing Paul Hardcastle like they were playing Prince on NYE 1998? Of course, this is meant as a joke but I know I gave some DJs an idea for a midnight song on Monday. Please report back if you took the bait.

Idyllic Quiet and a Slow Pace

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I’m spending Christmas week in the country. I’m taking care of a family member (she’s doing well) and enjoying the idyllic quiet and slow pace of being away from home. You might think that I’d get a lot done in calmer surroundings but you’d be wrong. The hustle-and-bustle — and familiarity of my work environment — inspires productivity and busy-ness. Here I want to relax and let my mind wander. There’s something to be said for that, though — these breaks away from work are healthy and serve as a mental clearing house of sorts.

The main fear is routine-interruption. I’m getting up later these days, though my definition of ‘later’ is 7 AM-ish, so it’s not too terrible. I only have an iPad with me, and I haven’t experimented with it that much as a remote work computer, so there’s some trial-by-fire happening there. I’m getting by.

Mainly, I want to keep writing daily which I can do in an iPad environment. I’ve got a bluetooth Mac ‘Magic Keyboard’ so I don’t have to type on the screen. I use Ulysses (via Setapp) as the place I write, synced across all devices. I tested many different writing apps over the past year and Ulysses is the hands-down favorite. It’s the only app that is outstanding on its iPad, desktop, and iPhone versions. So there’s no excuse to not write every day while cold chilling in the country.

I am surprised there’s not a solid WordPress editor for the iPad. I haven’t found one. The WordPress iOS app seems fine but it’s limited — for example, I couldn’t find a way to center the Deep Purple photo in yesterday’s Xmas post from within the app. I ended up opening the site’s dashboard in Safari and editing from there. Go figure.

Anyway, I didn’t mean to get into app talk in today’s update, though I am planning a future post about work routines and techniques — including software — that I’ve found helpful. But, before I get back into country life, I’d like to give you a podcast recommendation.

Reply All is a consistently fantastic podcast, a deft mix of the entertaining and informative. Today I listened to episode #130, The Snapchat Thief. It details an investigation into a listener’s hacked Snapchat account to determine how it was compromised. The hosts’ discoveries are fascinating and a little terrifying. They shed light on a hacker underground that you know is out there but is still surprising once revealed. Let’s just say I’m looking into using Google Voice a lot more.

If Reply All is new to you and you like what you hear, then your next step is to listen to episode #102, Long Distance. Highly recommended — what a wild ride.

I hear trains blowing in the distance as the sun begins to set over rows of pine trees. I could get used to this.

The Album, If You Want It

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The streaming model has led to many changes in how we create and consume music. One impact debated as much as any other is the supposed decline of the album as a format. From the outside, streaming seems tailor-made for singles, and many artists are taking advantage of this, consistently releasing one-off songs on streaming platforms, effectively building hype and, in some cases, hits. Some are suggesting the music industry is experiencing a throwback to the ‘50s when singles ruled, and the idea of a self-contained long-form artist statement (i.e. an album) was distant at best.

Billboard is looking back to 2018 as a harbinger of what’s to come:

In case you hadn’t heard, streaming is now king, and 2018 was a case study in how abandoning old-school recording cycles in favor of experimental, fan-favoring workflows can yield tremendous success, even when physical music sales continue to plunge. […]

Executives from both the recording and streaming industries agree that it is no longer the restraints of a physical medium (vinyl, CD, etc.) or shelf space that dictate the impact or capacity of an artist’s work; the real battle is now fought against fan distractions.

I would agree with this, and I also agree with the article’s leaning to the opinion that the rulebook for albums is torn up, thrown out. It’s not that albums are old-fashioned; it’s that we’re at a place where an artist is free to create a statement that best suits her music and fans.

Looking to the past, we can remember purchasing a ten song album — CD, cassette, or vinyl — and finding out there were only one or two good songs. It felt like the record companies were conning us. Arguably, a factor in the quick rise of Napster was dissatisfaction with high-priced CDs featuring only a couple of ‘good’ songs.

I submit that it wasn’t necessarily a record label con. The ‘one good song’ artists shouldn’t have been releasing albums in the first place. There are artists adept at crafting brilliant singles, and there are artists able to make a stunning album statement. Sometimes an artist can do both (mid-80s Michael Jackson or Prince are obvious examples), but I think that’s rare. And a lot of artists had no choice but to wrap a mediocre album around their great, hit single. That’s how things were done before streaming.

In 2018 (going into 2019), artists have the freedom to create in a way that best suits their output and their fan expectations. Childish Gambino can impactfully drop “This Is America,” and Drake can succeed with a 25 track album. Nine Inch Nails can release a 30 minute EP and call it an album, and it’s cool (keep in mind, Van Halen didn’t release an album that clocked in over 35 minutes until David Lee Roth quit.).

Monta At Odds

Just as a singles artist doesn’t have to release albums, an artist best suited for albums is free to still work in that format. Take our 8D Industries artist Monta At Odds — the album Argentum Dreams is intended as a cohesive piece for listening from front to back. There are a couple of songs that might work as one-off singles, but the Monta At Odds fanbase expects an album and expects the band to take them on this 40-minute journey. If Monta At Odds started releasing a single every month, their fans would be confused and probably listen elsewhere. And an artist finding success with consistent singles would lose fans if she took eight months off to record a concept album.

Once again I’m emphasizing freedom as the defining element of our new music landscape. The album isn’t dead — it’s there if you, or your fans, need it. Be intentional, and understand what you’re trying to say and how your fans want to listen. If that warrants a series of four-song EPs, or a weekly single, or a sprawling 20 track album, then you’re golden. You can do any of that. You could even do all of it if it works. Or, most importantly, you can come up with your own format and schedule — a new expression that might be a single, or it might be an album, but it’s definitely all you.

A Record Store Called Bad Mood

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Friend of the blog Hao Do (@noodle_packets) ran across this amusing record store review in an ancient (mid-90s) issue of the Valencia College student paper:

Little known fact: I used to own a record shop, and Bad Mood Records was the name of my shop. The review is a glimpse back in time, not only because of the artists mentioned but also the concerns of the reviewer. Cheap used CDs, selections that are hard-to-find (remember scarcity?), Sunday specials. Reading this I was thinking, “whoa, did I really give $2 off CDs on Sundays?” but then I remember how getting people in the store on a Sunday was practically a fool’s errand. Downtown Orlando used to be a ghost town on weekends during the day.

Running a record store was tough (as was starting my own business in my early 20s), but it did set me up for a life of self-employment and a DIY outlook. In a recent edition of his terrific email newsletter Sean Bonner wrote:

One of the fun facts about starting your own companies and working for yourself most of your life is that you become basically unemployable in any other context, so in a way I’ve kind of locked myself into this for the rest of my life. Which is equally scary and exciting.

I deeply relate to this and sums up the odd combination of fear and gratitude that I feel for how I’ve chosen to live my ‘professional life.’ As much as I denounce ‘the hustle,’ every day feels a little like a hustle.

If I have any regrets about the record store, it’s that I let the domain badmood.com lapse once the store shut its doors. I was farsighted enough to set up a site for Bad Mood Records but somehow didn’t think that domain had legs. Regardless, you can see what an Orlando record store website looked like in 1997 courtesy of the Wayback Machine. That spinning record is adorable.

“Shine” Swirls Again on Colour and Pitch

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I’ve recorded dozens of remixes in my production career, and there are a few that are particularly special to me. A remix I created of the track “Shine,” for the Brighton-based SumSuch and vocalist Will Brock, is one of those special ones. At the time I was abandoning the four-on-the-floor and experimenting with breakbeats again. I was also rediscovering that creative period of ‘ambient’ drum n’ bass in the mid-90s and realizing how much I missed the early simplicity of those swirly, bass-heavy sounds. This remix is the result.

“Shine (Q-Burns Abstract Message Remix)” was released on SumSuch’s brilliant Color and Pitch label in 2015. SumSuch, ever the mensch, has repeatedly expressed his love of this remix to me, which was reassuring as my path as a producer was finally veering away from the dance floor.

SumSuch has some connection with the esteemed label BBE Music, and the label released an album from SumSuch’s proper ‘band’ project with Will Brock, Mega Jawns. Now BBE Music has issued a ‘best of’ compilation spotlight on the Colour and Pitch label, and I’m honored that my “Shine” remix is included.

Have a listen to the remix:

You can find more information on the lovely collection Colour and Pitch V1 on BBE Music’s site, and it’s available on all the snazzy streaming services. There’s also an hour-long continuous DJ mix from SumSuch of the compilation’s tracks. I submit this album and mix as the soundtrack to your weekend.

It Isn’t Technique, It’s Language

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Some movie talk for today, three films in particular. First of all: Roma. I believe Alfonso Cuarón has come into his own with this picture. Fans of his previous work may feel he had already arrived (Children of Men is a masterpiece, yes) but bear with me. The lengthy single takes that Cuarón is known for often overshadow his movies — reviews of Children of Men always mention shots like that famous car scene, and bringing up Gravity elicits talk of its 17-minute opening scene. There are plenty of impressive long takes in Roma, but Cuarón has settled into a lyrical style with his camera where these scenes draw you in rather than drawing attention to themselves. Cuarón alludes to this in a must-read profile in The New York Times:

“ … what they’re calling technique in film — and I’m not talking about commercial movies — isn’t technique. It’s language. When Tarkovsky makes decisions about framing and about how to move the camera, they’re not technical decisions, or even stylistic ones. They’re requirements of the language that he needs for his filmic experience.”

I loved Roma, and the Tarkovsky shout-out isn’t far off (there’s a bit of Fellini, among other masters, in there, too). Regardless of the camera’s ‘language,’ the personal story told in the film, with a powerful social and political undercurrent, is affecting. This one got under my skin.

On a less intimate note, how disruptive would it be if Netflix took home an Oscar? There’s a discussion to be had about Netflix and other streamers as the present home of bigger budget ‘art films,’ as theaters continue to lean hard into the superhero/event movie paradigm. Amazon’s been supporting upper-tier indie film a bit longer than Netflix (though their commitment has been questioned), and HBO seems to be ramping up their indie game, so this could become an odd competition. Roma’s performance at the Oscars could increase the heat.

But I did see an ‘art movie’ at an actual theater in the past week. We visited Enzian Theater, our local, long-running independent film establishment, for The Favorite. I admit I was lukewarm on The Lobster — it fell apart for me in the last half — and though The Favorite does not entirely convince me, I liked it a bit more than that previous film. It’s fun. Despite the other high-profile stars, it’s Olivia Coleman’s movie, isn’t it?

I don’t go to the theater that often and this recent experience opened some thoughts as to why. Maybe it’s just me, but I am often distracted in a theater and find it difficult to ‘get into’ the movie. I enjoy completely losing myself to a good film, and occasional murmurs and coughs and – in the case of the Enzian, which I do love – servers walking around take me out of the story. But I don’t think movie-goers have changed as much as we’ve changed as watchers. My huge TV, subwoofer-enhanced sound, and distraction-free home environment spoil me, and I can’t imagine watching the swirling images of Roma any other way. This home theater preference is a significant problem for non-event movie studios and theaters, which is why the support of Netflix et al. is increasingly essential.

I’m not sure if Shane Carruth would accept any Netflix money, though. With Primer and Upstream Color, Carruth took independent film-making to a whole new level as the sole engineer every step of the way: writer, director, producer, composer, lead actor, and so on. He was even one of the distributors in the case of Upstream Color, selling hi-res downloads of the movie from his own site. It probably wouldn’t matter if these were lousy films, but I find them wonderful, elusive statements and completely vision-driven. Scott Tobias wrote a terrific new piece on Upstream Color for Polygon:

Upstream Color exists just outside the realm of comprehension, which isn’t a bug but a feature, designed to keep the mind circling back to it like some unscratchable itch that flares up every once in a while. Some filmmakers like to give viewers something to solve but it takes an audacity to leave a few ellipses and risk riling up the sleuths. […]

There’s plenty of room for speculation over [the movie’s] questions, but unlike the mappable timeline chicanery of Primer, they’re unmoored and abstract. Carruth has full command of his effects in Upstream Color, but he doesn’t seem interested in directing viewers toward specific conclusions more than general ones.

If that seems like a description of your kind of movie, then seek out Upstream Color. It’s fantastic and fantastically done.

As for Shane Carruth and his next project — The Modern Ocean perhaps? — there’s been radio silence. In the meantime, Carruth can be found doing side-jobs like his beautiful score in the first season of TV’s The Girlfriend Experience, or his lead acting role in The Dead Center. Fans may be frustrated that he’s in front of the camera more than behind it, but I see Carruth taking a cue from John Cassavetes. In time, the side hustles will fund his next project, allowing continued independence and an unbroken vision.

Music Recognition and the Future of Venue Royalty

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DataArt’s Sergey Bludov, writing for the Medium publication Hackernoon, has posted an interesting rundown of Music Tech Trends to Bolster The Music Industry in 2019. He writes that 2018 may have been one of the more pivotal years for technology in music, both in innovation and adoption, which sets things up nicely for 2019. The article explores the potential of sexier tech-topics like artificial intelligence, VR/AR, and wearables, but the area I’m most excited about might seem mundane in comparison. Sergey places it at the top of his list, so I think he shares my enthusiasm. We’re talking about using music recognition technology as a tool to calculate accurate performance royalty payments from song play in venues. I swear — this is super-exciting:

The music industry faces a massive challenge when it comes to monitoring and tracking where and how often a song is being played. Without effective Music Recognition Technology (MRT) artists, publishers, and other rights owners lose their royalties each time music is played in a club, bar or any other venue. And, of course, this is a very serious problem, with some estimating that 25–35% of mechanical licenses in the U.S. are unrecognized on streaming platforms alone. Fortunately, a range of experts around the world are working diligently to solve this major issue through MRT innovations and implementation.

Automatic music recognition isn’t new. In fact, Broadcast Data Systems (BDS) was widely-deployed by the early 1990s for recognizing songs played on U.S. radio stations. However, even though the core algorithm for recognizing music has existed for decades, a large percentage of venues are still not adequately equipped with MRT. The good news is that many companies such as DJ Monitor heading up the technology side. And of course, once the music is effectively recognized, the data is sent to the performance rights organizations (PRO) that handle payment distribution. Paris-based Yacast is another tech company working in this space, as well as SoundHound Inc.’s Houndify, Google’s Sound Search, and others.

I’ve written about this before. Music played in venues (restaurants, nightclubs, hair salons, etc.) cannot be accurately tracked unless someone’s taking notes and submitting tracklists to the PROs. So, historically, the payments venues make to the PROs (mainly BMI and ASCAP here in the states) go into a pool. The top artists of that quarter — who the PROs assume are getting the most venue-play — receive payments from this pool. Of course, this is ludicrous — though there hasn’t been any other realistic solution — and causes frustration for the gothic club or the hipster coffeehouse that’s never playing ‘top artists.’

Shazam-like technology is a hope to solve the problem. With a device installed in venues, the music coming from the speakers can be monitored 24/7 with the info sent to the PROs. Theoretically (and realistically) that info is used to pay out accurate venue royalty to the artists receiving play.

A few countries and PROs in Europe are already testing this — PRS in the UK and GEMA in Germany are working to implement this technology — and it can’t come soon enough for the US and the rest of the world. However, most countries only have one performance rights organization, which makes it easy to select and install the device and have it report back to the appropriate party. The US is an outlier (go figure) in that there are technically four competing PROs. It may be a battle to get these companies to agree on a single device that will report data to each. I’m sure each fork of that data will need to be a private and trusted stream so, for example, BMI can’t see how ASCAP is faring. If they can’t agree then the untenable status quo may hold or — even sillier — venues may be asked to install a separate listening device for each PRO.

The impact of virtual reality and A.I. on music over the next few years will be fascinating to watch. But, to be honest, I am a lot more curious to see how this song-tracking technology develops.