Introduction
There is no denying that massive disruption has come to the traditional music industry. From the chaos, and sometimes ashes, we have seen the birth of the new music industries (Williamson & Cloonan, 2007). The plurality is important here, for the democratisation of music technologies and the digitisation of music practices have resulted in the development and fragmentation of related industries. These industries offer possibilities for employment, âsuccessâ and, most importantly, creativity to flourish. No longer a recording-dominated, label-centric industry, these new music industries facilitate increased opportunities for twenty-first century artists to collaborate, to communicate and to interact with others interested in their music. This brings with it many challenges for musicians and new terrains they must learn to navigate. This volume identifies aspects of the new music industries (for example, digital aggregators, social media consultants, online streaming sites), and considers how musicians, industry practitioners and audiences are locating themselves in this new landscape. Even traditional notions within the former music industryâperformance, liveness, production, artist, training, success, creativityâhave been altered through digital disruption. This book considers these fundamental changes, and seeks to equip participants of the new music industries with ideological and operational models of knowledge that will help them interact with the industries and their component parts. The strength of this volume lies in the ethnography that underpins it. Throughout the volume we document real narratives, from real people working in various corners of the new music industries. These voices tell the story of what is actually happening for musicians and industry professionals working in the disrupted environment. To highlight this, the volume is prefaced with the thoughts of John Watson. Watson, President of Eleven: A Music Company, is one of the leading industry voices in Australia and someone who has seen hundreds of narratives unfold (and change) before him. Watson provides real-world perspectives that effectively initiate the conversations that unfold throughout the rest of the volume. It is not the purpose of this volume to provide hypothetical theoretical positions, rather we focus on real-world stories from those at the coalface.
What Is the State of Play?
As Watson notes in the Foreword to this volume, change has been a constant feature of the popular music industry, and that change has almost always been technologically driven. Indeed newness has been at the heart of musical development for centuries. Sometimes that newness has merely revolved around rejection of previous traditions: the romantic periodâs rejection of the perceived formulaic nature of classical music; bebopâs rejection of the stable swing jazz that preceded it; or punkâs rejection of the aesthetics of rock and pop. Other times newness has come through innovation, through avant-garde expressions of musicality: serialismâs mathematical devotion to musical construction; musique concrèteâs embrace of found sounds; or electronic dance musicâs commitment to entirely synthetic music composition. Newness and constant evolution are vital parts of musicâs history and future. What is different at this point in history is the pace of the change, and the extent of the change (see Watson, Foreword this volume). Change has come to the way music is produced (for example, studio, home, venue), distributed (for example, physical sales, online platforms) and consumed (for example, digital). And fundamental change has come to the business of music, so much so that it is now impossible to speak of a music industry in the singular. And ways into that business, even the manner of what success is (Hughes, Keith, Morrow, Evans, & Crowdy, 2013a), have changed forever. This has had huge effects on those who made, or sought to make a living through music. It also concerns regulators, advisory groups, government and music educators. The extent of the change is all-encompassing.
âMusic piracy on a global level grew by 16.5% in the second half of 2015â (Reid,
2016). Such headlines have become commonplace in the last few years, as digital distribution creates digital consumption and allows complete circumvention of traditional business models. Reidâs article reports on an anti-piracy study that surveyed 576 websites âdedicated to music piracy, or contain[ing] significant music contentâ (Reid,
2016). The report found these sites had been visited over two billion times, with the top national offenders named (the USA coming in at number one). The extent of musical disruption can be seen in the globalized nature of it. Reid goes on to report that:
Itâs already been proven in Norway and Sweden that better and more accessible streaming options help fight against piracy. A survey in December 2014 showed that just 4% of Norwegians under 30 still used illegal platforms to download music. Swedenâs anti-piracy law, titled IPRED, resulted in increased music sales by 36% during the first six months of the lawâs implementation. (Reid, 2016)
Such tactics may well work for the developed world, but do nothing to combat the global piracy problemâif indeed one views piracy as a problem to be dealt with. What this shows us, however, is the speed of change and development. As the distribution avenues change and evolve, governments and regulators are forced to scramble for new solutions.
Part of that scramble has undoubtedly revolved around online streaming distribution and consumption patterns. While the Swedish and Norwegian examples cited above appear to be working to undermine piracy, how artists and their industry partners are remunerated and benefited through streaming services continues to be debated. A well-publicised example was when the band Atoms for Peace removed their music from the streaming site Spotify. The removal was pushed for by band member and long time Radiohead producer Nigel Godrich, who felt that Spotify and streaming sites in general were not going to help the development of new music (Bychawski,
2013). He was dubious that smaller producers and artists would receive any significant payments from streaming, but that major labels would still prosper:
The way that Spotify works is that the money is divided up by percentage of total streams. Big labels have massive back catalogues so their 40 year old record by a dead artist earns them the same slice of the pie as a brand new track by a new artist. The big labels did secret deals with Spotify and the like in return for favourable royalty rates. The massive amount of catalogue being streamed guarantees that they get the big massive slice of the pie (that $500 million) and the smaller producers and labels get pittance for their comparatively few streams. This is whatâs wrong. (Godrich, cited in Bychawski, 2013)
Similarly, Taylor Swift pulled her catalogue from Spotify very publicly in 2014. Given her net worthâaccording to Forbes she made US$80 million in 2015âit would have been nonsensical to complain about how little money she was receiving from the service. Rather she tied her argument to issues of artistic value.
With Beats Music and Rhapsody you have to pay for a premium package in order to access my albums. And that places a perception of value on what Iâve created. On Spotify, they donât have any settings, or any kind of qualifications for who gets what music. I think that people should feel that there is a value to what musicians have created, and thatâs that. (Swift cited in Engel, 2014)
Audiences and fans will increasingly be drawn into this debate of what art, in this case musical product, should cost. And the lines of division are beginning to be demarcated, with huge levels of illegal downloading still occurring, alongside increasing numbers of successful crowdsourcing campaigns, where fans are giving directly to the artist. The business of streaming services will continue to be an added complication within this landscape, but in pure distribution terms they offer artists another avenue to be heard, and heard widely at that. Increasingly, there is no illusion about the take-up from the public:
Subscription services, part of an increasingly diverse mix of industry revenue streams, are going from strength to strength. Revenues from music subscription servicesâincluding free-to-consumer and paid-for tiersâgrew by 51.3 per cent in 2013, exceeding US$1 billion for the first time and growing consistently across all major markets. (IFPI, 2014, p. 7)
Record companies and chart compilers are increasingly adapting charts to reliably reflect the popularity of an artistâs music in the streaming world. It has also become more common to use streaming data to calculate Gold and Platinum awards certifications around the world. (IFPI, 2015, p. 13)
Another aspect of the distribution problem is the more basic one of getting your music heard (see also Watson, Foreword this volume). As we will document later, it is not enough to record your song and put it online; more needs to happen to get it âheardâ by people. One industrial change that has become a prominent part of solving this is the rise of synchronisation (the combination of an audio text with an image text, most notably in film, television or video games). Television synchronisation, while not a new phenomenon, is probably the most notable here. Long the most denigrated media form for audio, the impact of a high-profile sync (synchronisation) can now break an artist, or resurrect a flailing career. Evidence of this can be seen in articles such as âBillboardâs First-Ever TVâs Top Music Power Players List Revealedâ (Billboard, 2015), which highlights the audience numbers and earning potential for artists with high-impact syncs.
Performance outlets have always been important for musicians, and with the diminishing returns from recorded output, performance is becoming the dominant revenue stream for artists. But performance venues are subject to seasonal variances in government policy and other regulatory aspects that can impinge on artist opportunities to perform. In February 2014, the New South Wales government introduced âlockoutâ laws into some areas of the Sydney CBD. The new laws include a 1.30am lockout (effectively stopping patrons entering venues after this time) and 3am last drinks. The laws were part of the state governmentâs crackdown on drug and alcohol-fuelled violence. While social benefits are evident, there have been some severe side-effects for the cityâs performance culture. Between 31 January 2013 and 1 February 2015, collection agency APRA-AMCOS reported a 40% drop in ticket sales to live performance venues, along with a â19 per cent decline in attendances across all live venues over the same period and a 15 per cent fall in the amount venues spent on live performersâ (Vincent, 2016). Live Music Office policy director John Wardle stated: âThese figures demonstrate the actual impacts for musicians, venues, businesses. People are looking at this closely to try and find a way through because they are going out of businessâ (cited in Vincent, 2016). While this is a localised example, 1 the point here is the sudden change to an established culture. Artists may have prepared their performance strategy around late-night gigs, only to have it wrecked by forces beyond their control. As Wardle pointed out, âThe music industry had no time to prepare so the impacts were greater than they might have beenâ (cited in Vincent, 2016). Such events are hard for artists to plan forâthough, as will be seen, the ability to adapt and be flexible is a key competency in the new music industries.