Why does the NME present a ‘godlike genius award’? Because of Romanticism,
that’s why. Romanticism promoted ‘the ideal of self-expression’ and ‘the idea
of genius’. It also identified ‘the hostility of modern society to talent and
sensitivity’. It was anti-capitalist in nature. The last three winners of NME’s award were Johnny Marr, Noel
Gallagher and Dave Grohl, each of them an old man. Why? Because the Romantic
ideal is dying.
Romanticism
used to serve the record industry well. During the 1960s and 1970s it helped to
sell records. In America, income from record sales rose from $700m in 1963 to
over $1bn in 1967. In the UK, album sales rose from 22m units in 1963 to over
80m ten years later. Many of the best selling artists were anti-corporate in
nature: the Beatles (‘love is all you need’); Jimi Hendrix (‘mister
businessman, you can’t dress like me’); Jefferson Airplane (‘all your private
property, is target for your enemy, and your enemy is we’).
While there was
a large market for commercial music, there was an even larger one for hippie
ideals: a market that liked to think it was not prey to market forces. This
audience felt that the major labels’ investments in military weapons, car
parks, funeral parlours and brain scanners might perhaps be inimical to art. This
was the era of the physical record and this audience was suspicious of its manufacture,
making the connection that the standardization of the duplication process would
lead to the standardization of the creative process. They thought that the
major labels would want music to be neatly packaged and alike.
But
the majors wanted a slice of this audience. Consequently, they turned to
Romantic ideals. They promoted some of their artists as genius outsiders; rebels who
were opposed to the system. Jon Stratton has argued that this ‘served to
distract the consumer from the commodification which had taken place’. It also
‘allowed cultural products to be viewed as something other than simply more
commodities’. Music was made to feel special and unique once again. As such,
capitalists used the anti-capitalism of Romanticism to sell more products to
anti-capitalist consumers than they might otherwise have bought.
The
major companies downplayed their involvement in the creation of the music. Their
aim was to promote the artist star rather than the corporation. Albums replaced
singles and consequently the cover sleeve (focussed on the musicians) replaced
the single bag (focussed on the record label). Jon Stratton, despite exposing
Romantic ideology, was blinded by this process. He constructed a flow chart in
which the artist ‘creates the music’ and the record company merely ‘buys music
and places it on vinyl and tape’. But weren’t record companies involved in the
artistic process too? (They certainly claimed authorship of the finished recordings, as can be witnessed by their ownership of sound recording copyrights.)
Things
have changed. The download has taken over from the physical record and consequently duplication is becoming a thing of the past. Popular music might still be
‘samey’, but its standardization can no longer be linked with factory
processes and procedures. In fact, some Romantic idealists argue that artists
and consumers no longer need record companies at all: musicians now have the
ability to transmit their recordings directly to their fans.
This
has got the music industry worried. In response, the International Federation
of the Phonographic Industry (IFPI) has produced a promotional report: Investing in Music (2012). This document
outlines the reasons why artists should still think of industry: without the
music business they will not have the financial clout to conquer new
territories; they will not have the know-how to market their music; they will
not have the ability to collect the money they are owed.
Investing in Music
overturns the Romantic ideal. If godlike geniuses can now go directly to the
consumer (hello Radiohead), the industry wants to promote a different type of
artist. These days the labels are as likely to talk about collaboration as they
are about self-expression. One of these collaborators is the label itself.
Going against earlier industry practice, IFPI proudly proclaims the record
company to be a creative partner in the birthing of new songs. They state that ‘behind
the highly visible world of artists and performers […] is a less visible
industry of enormous diversity, creativity and economic value’. They also depict the industry as the match-maker between artist
and artist: record labels ‘can help developing artists by opening the
door for them to work with the best talent in the music business’; labels have
‘the ability to allow artists to go in with fantastic songwriters and producers’.
These
collaborations can be intimidating. New artists have always been wary of
gatekeepers; the people who will permit or deny them access to success. But
whereas in the days of mass reproduction it was mainly industry personnel,
media institutions and retail outlets that were standing sentinel, today
established artists have joined them on their watch. Andrew Nosnitsky has
depicted the scene in hip-hop, where newer artists can only get a foot on the
ladder by guesting on older artists’ tracks: ‘it’s become almost impossible for a middle-tier rap artist to ascend to
[hip hop’s] upper tier without the explicit cosignature of existing upper-tier
rap artists’. This works all the way down: middle-tier artists invite those
below them to rap for eight bars on their tracks, and those on a lower tier
also have someone who needs a leg-up from them. Similar scenarios are taking
place beyond the world of hip-hop. Collaboration is a way that new R&B and
EDM artists can first reach the charts.
In
the end, though, it is the record companies who permit these collaborations:
they are the final gatekeepers of every hit that has a ‘featuring’ or ‘versus’
credit. The IFPI report hammers this point home. And so, if you have ever
wondered why so many chart hits are collaborative, just think which type of
artist the industry now needs.
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