One-Track Minds: Perspectives on the Future of the Single

Though I have previously argued that the music industry should not dismiss the advantages of certain long-playing music formats, it is also important to recognize the continuing appeal and influence of the single. Thanks to the affordability and convenience of online music stores like iTunes, sales of singles have rebounded from their nadir at the beginning of this decade--a business so lucrative that the Department of Justice began to investigate rumors of price-fixing agreements amongst four major music labels last spring. While the collusion charges were dropped just this past week, it is still a good time to consider whether the music industry truly wants the single format to survive in the marketplace. This week I examine a post by Evan Rytlewski entitled "Now That's What I Call Music, Explored" on the ExpressMilwaukee.com blog (an online arts and culture magazine) responding to a recent New York Times article about the declining fortunes of the NOW That's What I Call Music! series of compilation albums. Additionally, I consider a post entitled "Why commercial music needs a talking-to" on the Vintage blog written by Ruhee Dewji, a Canadian musician with unique insight into the stance of the independent music community on the record industry's "one-track" mindset. My responses to both of these items can be found below and at the respective sites.

"Now That's What I Call Music, Explored"
Comment

I am glad to read that someone else in the blogosphere was perplexed by the relatively sunny attitude of the New York Times piece regarding the future of the NOW That's What I Call Music! franchise. It is also interesting that you connect the difficulty that NOW's distributors are experiencing trying to peddle even the biggest radio hits to consumers on a physical CD to the general "decline of the music industry." While the public might have gained an immunity against NOW's aggressively metronomic release schedule and its garishly bright packaging (see image at left) over the past ten years, the doubts surrounding the once-bulletproof series are perhaps emblematic of a sea change in music retailing. I am thinking of the marketing and sale of the single in particular, as a recent Idolator post compares the idea of a quarterly hits-heavy compilation to a sort of hedge fund in which each of the major record labels--Sony BMG, Warner Music, EMI, and Universal Music--could all profit (again) from the successes of their competitors. However, a business model such as this is dependent on the health of CD sales in general and is difficult to sustain in an environment where digital music retailers offer the same songs featured on each version of NOW for less than a dollar apiece.

I recognize that you touch on this point in noting that it is "not a good sign when labels begin hinting that the entire industry as they know it soon probably won't exist," but I am curious to know whether or not you think that this what the labels want in some sense. Is it possible that the industry, finally being moved by the winds of change, is recognizing that when given the option, consumers simply will not buy an entire album for only a handful of songs they truly desire? At any rate, the decline of NOW might be good for the music business if only to alter the perception that "less killer, more filler" is still the mantra of the major labels.

"Why commercial music needs a talking-to"
Comment

This is an impressive and thorough deconstruction of the divergent motives that drive the marketing of mainstream and independent music, and it is an argument that I am wont to agree with completely. Nevertheless, I wonder how you think the legal issues of the major labels over the past six or seven years alters the perspective that the mainstream music industry is content to remain "stuck in single-land." The four biggest labels just escaped a digital music price-fixing scandal which, for me, recalled the 2002 class-action suit in which these corporations were convicted for colluding to artificially inflate the price of CDs. Perhaps the focus on the quick and easy distribution of singles in the digital marketplace is better for the mainstream consumer in the long run, as well as a safeguard against the sometimes questionable ethics of the major record labels.

On the other hand, your point about what constitutes a "throwaway track"--and how many of them should be reasonably expected on a full album--is well taken. The discontinuity between Billboard's top singles and albums charts (see image at right) illustrates the failure of commercially-oriented artists to conceive of the album as an organic whole. Contrasting this to your take on the independent music scene, "where often the single (because it is more commercial and supposed to be radio-ready) is the throwaway track and the deep cuts are the best stuff," I am little confused as to whether you consider "throwaway" to mean a song that is wholly unmemorable or simply an arbitrarily small piece of a more satisfying whole found on the complete record. Indeed, independent artists might not have their singles prominently featured on a radio playlist, and thus count on the buzz generated by a song's circulation on music blogs or MySpace to spark interest in their albums. Though your post posits many good reasons why the music industry should not stake its financial and creative fortunes entirely on the production of good, catchy singles, I believe that the format is too integral to the expansion and continual reinvention of the business to be totally discarded.

Record of the Year: The Unlikely Resurgence of Vinyl

As I discussed in a previous post, the distribution of music over the Internet has forced record companies and retailers alike to re-evaluate their business model and invest more in digital distribution as an appeal to a new generation of creative, computer-savvy consumers. An intriguing, oft-overlooked detail regarding this shift in strategy is that the process of buying music has almost completely transformed from a physical experience to an ephemeral one. The typical consumer can, theoretically, acquire music in a vacuum of extrasensory stimulation: just point, click, and wait for a file to download, with no need to talk to a store clerk and no distraction from the sights and sounds of other music for sale. However, despite the digital format's convenience and efficiency, the emergence of a fervent cult around the unexpected revival of the vinyl long-player (LP) epitomizes a small if determined revolt against the tyranny of modern technology and the reclamation of popular music's tactile personality.

While increased vinyl sales, suddenly materializing after nearly two decades of dormancy, have not revolutionized the business of selling music, the return of the record is highly unusual amidst an environment of slowly eroding "physical sales." Recent articles in the Deseret News of Salt Lake City and the Chicago Tribune discuss the mathematics of this trend, noting that while compact disc (CD) sales suffer double-digit percentage drops, vinyl has claimed and built upon its small foothold in the world of music retail. Record suppliers and manufacturers have noticed an increased demand for vinyl--6 million units 2008, according to the Tribune, a twofold jump from the previous year. Yet these numbers should not be misconstrued. As the aforementioned article from the Deseret News notes, vinyl only accounts for a small fraction of music sales (roughly one percent of all units sold, physical or digital), and CDs still boast a huge market share (almost eighty percent).

Nonetheless, many factors contribute to the resurgence of vinyl while the CD format slowly withers on the music industry vine. The compact disc admittedly has its supporters--particularly those that came of age during the format's 1990s heyday--but the vinyl contingent advances a wide variety of reasons for the format's continued appeal. Adherents often cite a richer sound quality derived from a process free from complicated digital conversion. As explained by Wired magazine, the digital compression process emphasizes the loudness of sound at the expense of its texture while "records generally offer a more nuanced sound." In essence, digital technology imposes artificial limitations on the capacity of the human ear to detect subtle gradations while barraging it with pure volume. This is exhibited to humorous effect on the NewmRadio blog, which compares the digital mastering of Metallica's new Death Magnetic album to the analog mastering on an LP of the band's 1988 release ...And Justice For All. The blog author's technical plea for more vinyl releases actually boils down to an aesthetic concern: "Vinyl demands nuance."

And in keeping with such artistic considerations, the embrace of vinyl by several generations of audiophiles amounts to an expression of individual personality. For some, it is the pure material pleasure of record-buying that is lost in the digital transaction. The uniqueness of LP packaging attracts many buyers, as the size of a vinyl disc allows the consumer to appreciate bigger and bolder cover art, not to mention more legible liner notes. Furthermore, vinyl encourages active listening; it demands maintenance, such as flipping the record once a side has finished playing and, for audio obsessives, listening for skips and needle drops that signal a disc in need of cleaning. This rejection of passivity often carries over to the process of acquiring LPs. For record enthusiasts, it is important to patronize and support the type of independent record store that still carries a large selection of vinyl, especially as these stores continue to go out of business.

Ultimately, the true miracle of vinyl's resurrection is that the demands of the LP market niche are by no means incompatible with the financial goals of the music industry or the desires of the mainstream consumer. The alternative newsweekly Nashville Scene reports that vinyl releases of new albums--especially those on independent labels--now often come packaged with a special coupon for a free digital download of the music on the record, a concession to modern consumers who appreciate both the concrete materiality of LPs and the portability of MP3s. Also, large retailers such as Best Buy are devoting more retail space to turntables and new pressings of both recent and older albums on LP. The design of today's mass market record players, which consciously mimic old radio cabinets, and the conspicuous marketing of canonical classic rock albums utilize the powerful feeling of nostalgia evoked by vinyl to broaden the format's modern appeal beyond the hip, pop culture-obsessed iPod generation. Young or old, classic or avant-garde, the vinyl LP is slowly regaining its cultural cachet after years of consumer indifference. Surely, vinyl has taken its time rediscovering its inherent appeal but, like an old favorite spun for hundredth time, it has finally come full circle.

Armchair DJs: Napster, Muxtape, and the Dilemmas of Democratization

The online distribution of music has fostered the growth of new commercial and artistic opportunities for both musicians and record companies. However, this has also created a conflict between the traditional arbiters of taste in the music business--major label executives and radio station programmers--and the individual record-buyer, who has wrested a great deal of control and influence away from the industry elite. So while record companies and large broadcasters relish the immediacy and immensity of the Internet as a marketing tool, the democratizing potential of new online tools for the average armchair DJ have threatened to tip the scales in an ongoing music culture war from the corporation to the consumer. The recent sale of Napster, the former illegal fire-sharing network and current online music store and streaming service, to big-box conglomerate Best Buy for $121 million epitomizes the scramble to climb higher in the pecking order amongst online commercial music ventures (the highly successful Apple iTunes service being the alpha dog of the digital music world). But what of the ventures that consider the establishment of self-sustained, eclectic cultural communities as high of a priority as making money? The disappearance of Muxtape, an online playlist-sharing forum, at the end of August due to continuing legal issues with the Recording Industry Association of America (RIAA) (see image below left) illustrates a latent tension in the struggle to adapt old business models to the potential of new media. While corporate attempts to mediate this transition are legally justified and morally sensible, they harm the framework of a great democratization in popular music that is crucial to the continued financial and cultural success of the industry.

Most music lovers have experience in the pleasurable art of the mixtape: a craft of equal parts technique and taste, culling tracks from radio airplay and personal collections to create a sequence of songs with a brand new emotional resonance. Muxtape, founded by entrepreneur Justin Oullette, essentially provided a way for users to replicate this process with their MP3 libraries and disseminate their mixes not only to personal acquaintances but also far-flung strangers. From a commercial standpoint, this type of purely sociological mission enthusiastically invites criticism. Dan Frommer, a technology critic at the Silicon Valley Insider blog, notes that "Muxtape hasn't sold itself -- either to a bigger media company that can shoulder its costs or a record label looking for a hot brand." His broader point about the sustainability of a community like Muxtape is valid enough--the server space to host all those playlists is not cheap--but his solutions are too utilitarian for the online music zeitgeist. Turning a completely independent, democratized environment like Muxtape into a record company sandbox would suffocate the hypertextual, cross-pollinating forces unique to online music ventures. Furthermore, a deal with a larger media conglomerate also complicates and restricts the potential for musical discovery and evolution with issues of exclusivity.

Yet it is also important to consider the issue of legality in the case of Muxtape, a problem that Oullette does not seem close to solving despite vague ideas for monetizing the site and some requisite anti-RIAA fist-shaking. The Best Buy/Napster alliance provides an expedient example of a harmonious democratic promise fulfilled, though this outcome is not without its own contradictions. Napster (see image below right) has remained a player in digital music by adopting a subscription-based business model after its infamous origins as the lawsuit-baiting Wild West of tune-swapping. The concurrent rise of iTunes alongside a tamed Napster points to a winnowing of a generation's rebellious impulse towards the rank injustices of actually paying for music. However, the recent sale has commentators in a rush to display their ambivalence for what is largely analyzed as a mutually desparate business transaction. To Bruce Houghton of WebProNews, the $121 million purchase confirms that "Napster was worth even less than I thought" and a Product Placement News article reports the story as if Napster had not been operating as a legitimate online music store for the past five years. After Napster's own RIAA imbroglio, the perception of the site and the brand has changed, perhaps irrevocably. To the many (including myself) who remember Napster's outlaw salad days, the Best Buy sale inspires nostalgia and, intriguingly, stories of much-appreciated cultural access and eclecticism. Though initially attracted by the smash-and-grab approach to music shopping, the comments at the Geeksugar blog reveal that the new philosophy behind the perpetual motion of the music industry--including leaks, giveaways, and other forms of fan diplomacy--is the power of exposure and appeals to new consumer sophistication.

The goals of free culture and free capitalism, arguably impossible to reconcile, at least now share a commitment to combating homogenization in the online realm. Whereas traditional over-the-air radio gradually becomes saturated by programming "systems" with absolute sets of standards (such as the DJ-free Jack FM), the world of digital music offers a hopeful alternative. Limited-access audio streamers like LastFM and 8tracks (potential heir to Muxtape's recently vacated throne) exemplify the accordion affect of vast online music exposure. The local armchair DJ posits a cultural identity to a global audience, which is then consumed, processed, and shared amongst similar cultural niches. The democratization of online music, the very peer-to-peer immediacy of the act, demonstrates that in our time the local is the global: all that great ideas--and great songs--need is a bandwidth wide enough to transmit them.