IN Creator, the rawest track on Santogolds debut and self-titled album, the singer Santi White boasts, Me Im a creator/Thrill is to make it up/The rules I break got me a place up on the radar. Its a bohemian manifesto in a sound bite, brash and endearing, or at least it was for me until it showed up in a beer commercial. And a hair-gel commercial too.
It turns out that the insurgent, quirky rule breaker is just another shill. Billboard reported that three-quarters of Santogolds excellent album has already been licensed for commercials, video games and soundtracks, and Ms. White herself appears in advertisements, singing for sneakers. She has clearly decided that linking her music to other, mostly mercenary agendas is her most direct avenue to that place up on the radar.
I know time for me to get over it. After all, this is the reality of the 21st-century music business. Selling recordings to consumers as inexpensive artworks to be appreciated for their own sake is a much-diminished enterprise now that free copies multiply across the Web.
While people still love music enough to track it down, collect it, argue over it and judge their Facebook friends by it, many see no reason to pay for it. The emerging practical solution is to let music sell something else: a concert, a T-shirt, Web-site pop-up ads or a brand.
Musicians have to eat and want to be heard, and if that means accompanying someone elses sales pitch or videogame, well, its a living. Why wait for album royalties to trickle in, if they ever do, when licensing fees arrive upfront as a lump sum? Its one part of the system of copyright regulations that hasnt been ravaged by digital distribution, and theres little resistance from any quarters; Robert Plant and Alison Krauss croon for J. C. Penney and the avant-rockers Battles are heard accompanying an Australian vodka ad.
The question is: What happens to the music itself when the way to build a career shifts from recording songs that ordinary listeners want to buy to making music that marketers can use? That creates pressure, subtle but genuine, for music to recede: to embrace the element of vacancy that makes a good soundtrack so unobtrusive, to edit a lyric to be less specific or private, to leave blanks for the image or message the music now serves. Perhaps the song will still make that essential, head-turning first impression, but it wont be as memorable or independent.
Music always had accessory roles: a soundtrack, a jingle, a branding statement, a mating call. But for performers with a public profile, as opposed to composers for hire, the point was to draw attention to the music itself. Once they were noticed, stars could provide their own story arcs of career and music, and songs got a chance to create their own spheres, as sanctuary or spook house or utopia. If enough people cared about the song, payoffs would come from record sales (to performer and songwriter) and radio play (to the songwriter).
When Moby licensed every song on his 1999 album, Play, for ads and soundtracks, the move was both startling and cheesy, but it did lead to CD sales; an album that set staticky samples of blues and gospel to dance-floor beats managed to become a million seller. Nearly a decade later, platinum albums are much scarcer.
For all but the biggest names like AC/DC, which made Wal-Mart the exclusive vendor for CDs of its long-awaited Black Ice album, got its own store within a store and sold more than a million copies in two weeks a marketing deal is more likely to be its own reward rather than spawn a career. With telling ambivalence, Brooklyn Vegan, the widely read, indie-loving music blog, recently started a column, This Week in Music Licensing: Its Not Selling Out Anymore, but soon dropped the selling out half of the title. Theres no longer a clear dividing line for selling out, if there ever was.
And as music becomes a means to an end pushing a separate product, whether its a concert ticket or a clothing line, a movie scene or a Web ad a tectonic shift is under way. Record sales channeled the taste of the broad, volatile public into a performers paycheck. As music sales dwindle, licensers become a far more influential target audience. Unlike nonprofessional music fans who might immerse themselves in a song or album they love, music licensers want a track thats attractive but not too distracting just a tease, not a revelation.
It turns out that the insurgent, quirky rule breaker is just another shill. Billboard reported that three-quarters of Santogolds excellent album has already been licensed for commercials, video games and soundtracks, and Ms. White herself appears in advertisements, singing for sneakers. She has clearly decided that linking her music to other, mostly mercenary agendas is her most direct avenue to that place up on the radar.
I know time for me to get over it. After all, this is the reality of the 21st-century music business. Selling recordings to consumers as inexpensive artworks to be appreciated for their own sake is a much-diminished enterprise now that free copies multiply across the Web.
While people still love music enough to track it down, collect it, argue over it and judge their Facebook friends by it, many see no reason to pay for it. The emerging practical solution is to let music sell something else: a concert, a T-shirt, Web-site pop-up ads or a brand.
Musicians have to eat and want to be heard, and if that means accompanying someone elses sales pitch or videogame, well, its a living. Why wait for album royalties to trickle in, if they ever do, when licensing fees arrive upfront as a lump sum? Its one part of the system of copyright regulations that hasnt been ravaged by digital distribution, and theres little resistance from any quarters; Robert Plant and Alison Krauss croon for J. C. Penney and the avant-rockers Battles are heard accompanying an Australian vodka ad.
The question is: What happens to the music itself when the way to build a career shifts from recording songs that ordinary listeners want to buy to making music that marketers can use? That creates pressure, subtle but genuine, for music to recede: to embrace the element of vacancy that makes a good soundtrack so unobtrusive, to edit a lyric to be less specific or private, to leave blanks for the image or message the music now serves. Perhaps the song will still make that essential, head-turning first impression, but it wont be as memorable or independent.
Music always had accessory roles: a soundtrack, a jingle, a branding statement, a mating call. But for performers with a public profile, as opposed to composers for hire, the point was to draw attention to the music itself. Once they were noticed, stars could provide their own story arcs of career and music, and songs got a chance to create their own spheres, as sanctuary or spook house or utopia. If enough people cared about the song, payoffs would come from record sales (to performer and songwriter) and radio play (to the songwriter).
When Moby licensed every song on his 1999 album, Play, for ads and soundtracks, the move was both startling and cheesy, but it did lead to CD sales; an album that set staticky samples of blues and gospel to dance-floor beats managed to become a million seller. Nearly a decade later, platinum albums are much scarcer.
For all but the biggest names like AC/DC, which made Wal-Mart the exclusive vendor for CDs of its long-awaited Black Ice album, got its own store within a store and sold more than a million copies in two weeks a marketing deal is more likely to be its own reward rather than spawn a career. With telling ambivalence, Brooklyn Vegan, the widely read, indie-loving music blog, recently started a column, This Week in Music Licensing: Its Not Selling Out Anymore, but soon dropped the selling out half of the title. Theres no longer a clear dividing line for selling out, if there ever was.
And as music becomes a means to an end pushing a separate product, whether its a concert ticket or a clothing line, a movie scene or a Web ad a tectonic shift is under way. Record sales channeled the taste of the broad, volatile public into a performers paycheck. As music sales dwindle, licensers become a far more influential target audience. Unlike nonprofessional music fans who might immerse themselves in a song or album they love, music licensers want a track thats attractive but not too distracting just a tease, not a revelation.
