Commentary: Todd Rundgren
The music industry veteran argues that the labels have mishandled
downloadable music.
Musician Todd Rundgren is known for such 1970s pop hits as "Hello It's Me,"
but his wizardry as a producer, music video pioneer and explorer of computer
technologies is legendary in the industry. Since 1998, his recordings have been
underwritten by PatroNet, a subscription service that gives his loyal fan base
online access to works in progress.
"Music is a sacrament. This has been true for thousands of years of human
history, save the last 100 or so. I'm sure it was not Edison's purpose to debase
such an important aspect of our collective liturgy, but what would one expect
when something that was once ephemeral and could only be experienced at the
behest of other humans is reduced to a commodity on a shelf.
The mechanisms of music, how and why it affects us the way it does, are still
mystical even to a cynical older record producer like myself. Anyone who
denies the depth and power of this medium has simply forgotten, in the face of
the
relentless Philistine argument, that all things can be commoditized
regardless of their sacred origins -- that all music is worth exactly what the
RIAA
says it is.
Most musicians who have enjoyed any success under this model are in an
ethical bind: On one hand, you may believe that your survival depends on
effective
marketing of a commodity; on the other, you realize that your truest
expressions are being trivialized to fit properly into a prealloted space. How
many
times have I heard the argument, "Love the record, but we don't hear a third
single -- back to the studio"?
I must remind my fellow players that for the vast majority of history we have
only been appreciated for the quality of human expression we could produce at
the moment. Great performances were only memories in the minds of those who
witnessed, each unique except perhaps for the calliope at the local
merry-go-round which was, of course, a machine.
The plain reality is that, except for a few notable aberrations, musicians
will always be more appreciated, certainly in a financial sense, by live
audiences than by labels and the listeners they purport to represent. The
seemingly
quaint idea that recordings were promotion for great performers is no less true
today. Ask Phish.
Ask also whether, as a musician, you ever believed the RIAA was actively
protecting your interests until they got into a fight with their own customers
and
started using your name, your so-called well-being, as justification. And
when the customers became skeptical they became the enemy. And to follow the
RIAA's logic, customers are therefore the enemies of musicians. Let us ignore
the
fact that if you ever got compensated for your contribution, it would have
been because your manager and lawyer (and many before) forced the labels to
recognize your labor in financial terms.
The reason why the RIAA comes off as a gang of ignorant thugs is because,
well, how do I put this -- they are. I came into this business in an age of
entrepreneurial integrity. The legends of the golden age of recorded music were
still at the helm of most labels -- the Ertegun's, the Ostins, the Alperts and
Mosses by the dozens. Now we have four monolithic (in every sense of the word)
entities and a front organization that crows about the fact that they have
solved their problems by leaning on a 12-year-old. Thank God that mystical
fascination with the world of music has been stubbed out -- hopefully everyone
will
get the message and get over the idea that the musician actually meant for you
to hear this.
The RIAA protects musicians like the musicians union protects musicians: They
reward hacks and penalize those outside the system. The labels are not making
this stink out of principle. They are not interested in the rights of
musicians who don't sell any records for them. That myth was exploded when
Warners
dropped Van Morrison for "lackluster sales."
This stink is about a bunch of dumb-asses blaming the public for doing what
the labels could have -- and should have -- done 10 years ago. I know because I
told them so, each and every one individually and relentlessly: Put the music
on a server so you can deliver on-demand services to people's homes. Seems so
stupidly simple now.
After nearly 40 years in this business I know who my friends are. I know it
isn't the labels who lost interest in my "fringe audience" decades ago. It is
that fringe audience who still await any recording or performance I may come up
with despite the RIAA trying to drive some symbolic wedge between me and my
listeners just because their ass is in a sling. Don't do me any favors.
Audiences and musicians are on the same side. Musicians come from the
audience (unlike record execs who come from the ranks of failed musicians). We
experience together the mystical sacrament that a musical performance can
represent.
Additionally, we will be comfortably if not handsomely compensated by that
audience if we can deliver a suitably affecting performance with some
regularity.
It's time to let the monolith of commoditized music collapse like the Berlin
Wall. Musicians can make records if they feel like it, or not. Wide open pipes
are ready to transport us, mainstream and fringe alike, into the ears of an
eager audience who appreciates us and is more than willing to financially
support us. Get out of the way if you can't lend a hand because ... you know the
rest by heart."
http://www.hollywoodreporter.com/thr/music/feature_display.jsp?vnu_content_id= 2007230
Published Oct. 22, 2003
