Live and Let Live

Why is it that supporters of live music cannot do unto recorded music as they would have done to themselves? Last month saw the publication of the UK Live Music Census, which offers an excellent examination of live music in Britain. This campaigning document has a tightrope to walk. On the one hand, it wants politicians to listen. Therefore, it makes a case for the great economic value of live music. The sector is described as ‘one of the real success stories of the past decade’. Seeking to confirm this, the census focuses on three towns, calculating the millions of pounds that their live music scenes contribute to the UK economy as well as the thousands of jobs that they provide. On the other hand, the report is concerned about an industry under threat. It is particularly focused on small venues and the ‘“perfect storm” of issues at present which is affecting their long-term viability and sustainability’. And it wants to campaign for remedies.

            The activism in this sector has been worthwhile. The introduction of ‘agent of change’ legislation is a case in point. One factor that has affected British venues in recent years has been a rise in noise complaints, particularly from the occupiers of new buildings that have been erected in town and city centres. Live music activists have encouraged the British government to introduce this new legislation. The principle of ‘agent of change’ is that ‘the person or business responsible for the change is responsible for managing the impact of the change’. In respect of live music, this means that property developers have to bear the soundproofing costs if they construct new apartments near existing venues. Conversely, if a new venue opens in a residential area, it would have to pay for any soundproofing required. The UK Live Music Census adds weight to this cause by undertaking a comprehensive, detailed and thought-provoking survey. In addition, its data and feedback prompt further recommendations for the government and local authorities: business rates should be addressed so that small venues do not face crippling and disproportionate increases; licensing laws should be amended so that younger audiences are able to attend gigs at these venues; parking restrictions should be liberated to ensure that bands can load and unload their gear; venues should be funded to help preserve the Britain’s live music traditions.

            I agree with all of this. What I find more problematic, however, is that live music is promoted by putting recorded music down. This point is argued in respect of the music’s social worth. The report states:

Many of the respondents commented on the difference between the live music and the recorded music experience, often to say that the former is somehow ‘better’ than the latter. For some, this is because of the uniqueness of the experience, because unlike with recorded music, the performance is different each time. The uniqueness of the performance also means that in an increasingly mediated world, the experience is authentic; it cannot be repeated. Part of the reason for this sense of unrepeatable authenticity is because the performer-audience interaction is a fundamental part of the experience. The live music event allows audiences to inhabit the same physical space as the artist, sometimes even to meet them in person.

But is the gig going experience really always good for society? The unique ‘aura’ of the live event and the adoration of stars could be considered unhealthy. It places art on a pedestal and encourages a divide between creators and their followers. Walter Benjamin famously welcomed the liberation provided by recorded media, noting its ability to democratise artistic practice by making the work more accessible in space and time. (For my own take on this, see ‘The Aura Restorer’.)

            In addition to its social bias, the UK Live Music Census is partisan when it comes to music’s economic worth. It proclaims the victories of live music at the expense of the record industry. The report notes that ‘Live music revenue overtook recorded music revenue in the UK in 2008’, referencing a PRS for Music report by Will Page and Chris Carey, and adds that ‘since 2014 UK Music has published figures in its now annual Measuring Music report that appear to suggest that live music is now consistently the largest generator of revenue in the UK’s music industries’.

            Live music income has definitely grown in this century and the fortunes of recorded music have declined. Nevertheless, as I have written elsewhere ('Sympathy for the Mechanical' and 'Measuring the Measuring'), the economic comparisons that have been drawn between the two sectors are problematic. The PRS for Music reports do not compare like with like. Their recorded music figures are restricted to business-to-consumer ‘payments for physical music products, downloads-to-own and subscriptions’. Their live music totals are more expansive. As well as documenting the income from ticket sales by agents and venues, they include secondary ticketing and ancillary spend. The UK Music figures can be questioned too. Although their recorded music totals do include business-to-business income, they are still narrow in comparison to the live music figures, which feature the ‘total spend’ at gigs and festivals (including food and beverage sales, merchandise, parking costs, camping fees, etc.) as well as total ticket sales and the sponsorship of events. These live music figures also include the income of music promoters, music agents, production services and ticketing agents, whereas the income for retailers and distributors is discounted from the recorded music figures. Moreover, UK Music does not, in fact, posit the live sector as generating the most income. This accolade goes instead to ‘musicians, composers, songwriters and lyricists’.

            How are these artists getting paid? The UK Live Music Census adds some distortions of its own. Its authors argue that ‘live music is now more economically significant than recorded music for musicians’. The results from their questionnaire show that professional musicians earn, on average, 49% of their income from performing, 3% from recording, and 4% from composing; semi-professionals earn 23% from performing, 2% from recording, and 1% from composing; and that amateurs earn 23% from performing, 2% from recording, and nothing from composing. It is wrong, however, to suggest that these figures are indicative of musicians as a whole. The census took place at live music venues. What would the answers have been if it had been compiled at recording studios or at songwriters’ bootcamps?

            In a similar manner, the authors argue that ‘the census data suggests that spend on tickets for live music events now forms a greater proportion of consumer spend on music than recorded music’. Their figures demonstrate that 47% of respondents spent more than £20 on tickets for concerts or festivals each month and that only 25% spend the same amount on recorded music. But the authors were asking people at gigs. It is doubtful that the figures would have been the same if they had been compiled in record shops, or even if they were solicited from people in the comfort of their homes.

            Moreover, while these comparisons are unfair on recorded music, they also say little about live music’s economic dilemma: how to account for the discrepancy between the economic riches of the live music sector and the economic woes of many of those working in the field? Although the report is centred on small venues, it has room for concern about promoters, 50% of whom complain that ‘the cost of paying bands had an extreme, strong or moderate negative impact on their events in the past 12 months’. However, these musicians also have monetary troubles. Although the census report maintains that live music income is more important for musicians than their advances and royalties, the findings also demonstrate that 68% of musicians have encountered ‘stagnating pay’ for their gigs and find it difficult to bring in a viable income. On top of this, two-thirds of musicians have performed for no fee in the past 12 months, while 16% have been asked to pay to play.

The report pays less attention to those who are prospering from live music. Moreover, it does not suggest that they should help fund the venues, promoters and musicians who are suffering from low rates of pay. Instead it asks for ‘the wider music industries (including recording and publishing, possibly via the UK Music network) to support musicians and smaller venues beyond current support; for example, by subsidising emerging artist fees and/or providing venue infrastructure’. And so recorded music has its uses after all.

The suggestion is not unwarranted. Record companies probably should provide support for live music. The fortunes of the two fields should not be contrasted; they should instead be viewed as intertwined. Live music continues to drive the sales and use of recordings, just as recorded music continues to drive ticket sales for gigs. This should not however absolve the live music industry from its own responsibilities. As the census notes, ‘the largest entertainment company in the world, Live Nation Entertainment, owns both the largest live music promoter in the world, Live Nation Concerts, and the biggest ticketing company in the world, Ticketmaster’. Its CEO Michael Rapino is number one in Billboard’s notorious power 100 for 2018, marking him as the leading figure in the music industries. Maybe it’s time to phone him up and ask him for some wealth distribution.

Sounds Revolting

Big data is big news. In Spring 2015 two reports about popular music gained worldwide attention. The first came on 22 April, when Ajay Kalia posted his blog entry, ‘Music Was Better Back Then’. It was followed on 6 May by a report in the journal Royal Society Open Science. In their article, ‘The Evolution of Popular Music: USA1960-2010’, a team of academics from Queen Mary and Imperial College London used data to investigate ‘the evolution of popular taste’ and determine periods in which there had been ‘rapid change’. I have written about Kalia’s research in a previous blog entry. This second article has much in common with it. The public was drawn to the reports for similar reasons: their eye-catching and over confident use of data; the way this data can be contested; the focus upon ‘new music’.

The academic researchers believe that their data forms ‘the basis for the scientific study of musical change’. They have analysed 17,000 American chart hits from 1960 to 2010, classifying their ‘harmonic and timbral qualities’. The resulting data has then been employed to chart the rise and fall of these qualities through the time span of their study. Their conclusion is that ‘musical evolution is punctuated by revolutions’. There are three years in particular in which they posit rapid change: 1964, which saw musical developments in rock and soul, 1983, which had advances in new wave disco and hard rock, and 1991, which witnessed the break-through of hip-hop.

Although the researchers believe that ‘Those who wish to make claims about how and when popular music changed can no longer appeal to anecdote, connoisseurship and theory unadorned by data’, there are several grounds upon which their quantitative analysis of musical qualities can be challenged. The first is that it does not include enough musical data. Where, for example are lyrics within their analysis? Moreover, where is the music that lies outside of the Billboard charts? Many would suggest that musical revolutions first occur within the underground. Secondly, although the researchers have taken genre into account, they have not made any allowance for different rates of progression. While change is the hallmark of some genres, others are relatively static. In the former case, wild diversions can be the mark of stability rather than change; in the latter, mild alterations to the form can be of great significance. Thirdly, their research can be criticised for not including enough non-musical data. Genres are not about music alone, but also about the ways that music is articulated and presented. Finally, the research can be criticized for not considering a wide enough range of statistical data. Two of their peak years – 1964 and 1991 – can be explained, in part, by changes to chart rules. Billboard did not have a separate chart for black music between November and January 1965. As a consequence, there was an influx of soul music into the Hot 100 in 1964. Similarly, it was in 1991 that Billboard first used the sales information from barcodes to determine its chart positions. Hip-hop consequently gained a greater chart presence, as it was selling more records than had been previously been quantified.

The academic researchers are media savvy. They have pointedly come up with three revolutions, thus tapping into the ‘rule of three’ beloved by storytellers, politicians and joke tellers alike: if you want to make a list stand out, then give it three items. They have also come up with three curious years. 1964, the year of the Beatles invasion of America, might be the most obvious of their dates for musical upheaval, but the researchers excitedly report that the Beatles were the result, rather than the cause, of this revolution. They also stress that 1991, the year of hip-hop, represented the most revolutionary phase of all. This revelation has prompted headlines, such as CNN’s ‘Hip-Hop is More Important than the Beatles’. The musical revolutions are not, in fact, the main emphasis of the scientists’ paper. They are instead more concerned with publicizing their data methods as a whole. The team has nevertheless latched on to the fuss they have generated and have re-branded their material for more popular media. In The Conversation they boast: ‘How We Discovered the Three Revolutions of American Pop’.

The two big data reports are both concerned with age and new music. They come at their target from different angles, however. Kalia analyses new music in purely quantitative terms. For him it represents the latest releases by the latest artists. He seeks to determine the age at which we lose interest in these new forms. ‘The Evolution of Popular Music’ adds a qualitative dimension. The academics want to know the eras in which music was at its newest: were there times when it was more revolutionary than others? In doing so, they address a widespread belief, particularly amongst the old, that there is ‘a relentless decline in cultural diversity of new music’. The two surveys could be said to answer each other: one reason why older people are not interested in ‘new music’ is because it is not, in fact, new.

Things aren’t quite that simple, however. The team from Queen Mary and Imperial College retain a faith in newness. For them, ‘musical diversity has not declined’. I agree with them. As I have argued before, the music of the modern era has a distinct timbral quality and it features particular ways of singing. Does this mean, then, that Kalia is right: older people no longer have the appetite for newness?

Well, it all comes back to which meaning we want to wrestle from that word ‘new’. The word can have qualitative meanings: it can point towards things that are ‘unfamiliar or strange’. It obviously has quantitative meanings as well, but these are complex. The OED defines ‘new’ as being ‘produced, introduced, or discovered recently or now for the first time; not existing before’. It also states that the new can be ‘already existing but seen, experienced, or acquired recently or now for the first time’. In addition, new can be ‘superseding and more advanced than another or others of the same kind’. It is therefore quite possible for an old person to lose faith in the new because they feel that is already exists. On the contrary, they may turn away because they find the new too new. It is strange. They think that it’s revolting.