The very first music festival probably took place in a small clearing, just a pterodactyl’s throw from the main cave; the manufacturers of crude stone implements no doubt sponsored the one after that.
Woodstock came later, demonstrating huge demand for music, drugs and the communal experience. With recorded music revenue in a protracted free fall, the live space has become an even greater industry obsession…
“One thing is for sure,” declared an influential American critic and record industry analyst, Bob Lefsetz, in a recent post on the topic of streaming music. “One service will dominate, it’s where we’ll all go, because we want to share, we don’t want to be left out.”
After years in which tech-company hype has drowned out most other voices, the frustration of musicians with the digital music world has begun to get a hearing. We know now that many rockers don’t like it.Less discussed so far is the trouble jazz and classical musicians — and their fans — have with music streaming, which is being hailed as the “savior” of the music business.
On Tuesday, July 15, 2014 at 1PM, the House Judiciary subcommittee on Courts, Intellectual Property and the Internet held the latest in a series of hearings on current copyright law. Future of Music Coalition Vice President for Policy and Education, Casey Rae, testified at a hearing on “Moral Rights, Termination Rights, Resale Royalty and Copyright Term.”
Rae, a musician, artist advocate and educator, underscored the importance of creators’ ability to file to reclaim copyrights they had previously transferred to a label or publisher following a 35-year period established by Congress in the 1976 Copyright Act.
The Federal Communications Commission could have used an Internet “fast lane” on Tuesday as a flood of net neutrality comments caused its website to sputter and forced the agency to extend its deadline for accepting public input on its controversial plan.
An alliance of musicians and songwriters also got into the act. Artists such Charles Bissell of The Wrens and REM backed the Title II approach. Smarting from radio consolidation, the music industry fears allowing fast lanes could become the new payola of the 21st century.
Calling online pay for play, “the new payola,” a group of musicians including REM and Decemberists bassist Nate Query has told the FCC they are “inclined” to think it should reclassify online access under Title II common carrier regs. That came in comments on the FCC’s proposed new Open Internet order from self-described “musicians, songwriters, entrepreneurs, rabble-rousers, advocates, innovators, Internet users and members of the public.”
There’s a big, contentious battle brewing in Washington and you might not even know about it. But you should, especially if you like music.
Congress is looking at a complete overhaul of U.S. copyright law, and the most divisive issue involves money and music. The Justice Department also announced in June that it is revisiting a 70-year-old consent decree with the two organizations that collect and distribute songwriting royalties: ASCAP and BMI.
In most ways, the landscape of last summer’s Fort Reno shows was pretty typical: beaten-up stage; scattered picnic blankets and toddlers; D.C. flag tattoos; Ian MacKaye. The only thing that felt amiss was the presence, at nearly every show, of a U.S. Park Police cruiser, usually resting on a hill, up a walkway from the stage and the cozy, placid crowd.
For discreet promotional relationships, one need not look further in the music industry than payola. The practice of labels paying DJs to play their music ran rampant in the 50s, with one Chicago DJ paid $22,000 to play a record. A Congressional investigation led to USC 317, which prohibits radio stations from playing for pay.
Failure is a part of every entrepreneur’s journey, and Cody DeLong experienced his share early.
At 16, he began booking and promoting local heavy metal and punk concerts where he grew up in Fremont, New Hampshire. He walked into school one morning after pocketing $1,000 from a successful concert the night before, thinking he had a pretty sweet gig. But it didn’t always turn out so well. At 18, he found himself several thousand dollars in the hole after a show he booked in Exeter, New Hampshire, bombed. He borrowed the $3,000 from his mom to make up the difference.