There's been a lot of mud thrown back and forth over the past couple of decades, especially from conservatives, about what the Nation's Forefathers would say about this policy or that policy, this reform or that initiative, and I decided to actually do some research, learn about some Forefathers, and analyze for myself.
But with whom to start? George Washington? Too obvious a choice, living in Seattle. No, I decided to go with the man who penned the words, "I like a little rebellion now and then. It is like a storm in the Atmosphere." The author of the phrase, "All men are created equal, endowed by their creator with certain inalienable rights," too. Thomas Jefferson, the Prophet of Disunion.
Haven't heard of the phrase "Prophet of Disunion?" That's because it hasn't been used in the parlance of our nation since the 1920s. Thomas Jefferson was viewed, for many decades after his death, as a controversial historical character, at least until America decided to put its Forefathers on insurmountable pedestals. Why the controversy?
Assuming that we could get an 18th century plantation-owner to accept and understand the world at present, he would be quite at home with the mud-slinging media, the secret political deals, the hateful conflict between political parties, the scandals of love affairs and misused public monies. His public life was fraught with such things. His controversy is/was as great as any modern politician.
But the pressing matter is this: What party would Jefferson side with? Would he side with the Conservatives, who share his distrust of government and his celebration of the rural culture? Or would he side with Liberals, who share his virulent belief in separation of church and state and his encouragement of what we now call "whistle-blowing?"
Jonathan Haidt once did a TED talk, discussing his research regarding the psychological roots of political ideologies, both conservative and liberal. What it came down to is this: Liberals value fairness at the cost of chaos, while Conservatives value order at the cost of injustice. From this evidence, we could deduce that Jefferson would likely be liberal, considering how much he embraced revolution and rebellion, even once the Constitution had been settled upon. But how would he react to the liberal ideas of federal programs for low-income families? Public schools? Social Security? Welfare?
The fact of the matter is that asking a Founding Father to politically assess modern government would be like asking Descartes to philosophically assess the notion of artificial intelligence. They are incredibly smart men, but the circumstances they would be asked to understand are far beyond their abilities.
First, you'd have to ask Jefferson to accept the idea of a standing army being a necessity. Then, you'd have to make him understand that an agrarian economy is not viable in this day and age. And that the federal government has a role in developing the economy. Not to mention the hurdle that would be Barak Obama, a president of African descent. And by the time you made him understand all of these things, would he be Thomas Jefferson anymore? Or would he rather be another contemporary politician?
Our Forefathers set forth on this continent a very different nation than it's turned out to be, so don't be surprised if their advice is almost completely outdated.
Friday, March 4, 2011
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Friday, April 30, 2010
Immigration and Gardening
Let me paint you a metaphor: Take a garden hose, put it on full blast. Now, try and stop the water from coming out. Try anything you like, save for turning the pressure off. Try and stop it with your hands, it gets through, but at a faster, more violent rate. Seal it off completely with steel? The hose explodes.
Do you see where I'm going with this?
First of all: I know, stereotype. I'm being a terrible person, talking about Mexican immigration and using an implement of gardening to illustrate my point. Bear with me.
Arizona's new immigration law regarding state law enforcement is an excellent case of the state of Arizona trying to stop the hose's water with their hands. I can tell you what will happen: The water, IE illegal immigrants, will get in by other paths. The Arizona law, SB1070, is a useless law that will cause dangerous strain between racial groups.
It's not useless because of its intention. It's useless because it's only half of a solution. Until there is a more streamlined path for poor, earnest Mexican citizens to enter the United States for work, any measure pertaining to protecting our borders will not succeed. There is precious little that the American government can do to alleviate the poverty in its southern neighbor, and an attempt might be seen as intrusive. What America can do is allow more Mexican citizens to enter legally. The immense and unending flow of illegal immigrants is evidence that there is a market for such a measure. Not all of those millions upon millions of border-crossers can be the monstrous gangsters the Right would have you believe they are.
I agree with the voices on the Right that decry the federal government for failing on one of their major constitutional obligations: the protection of the nation's borders, both north and south. However, in this case, Protection doesn't need to carry a just rifle. Protection can carry a work permit, too.
Until Mexico is a full First World nation, or until America is on par economically, there will be a stream of honest, good, hard-working Mexican citizens traveling to America for work, and there will always be a market for their labor. Until America provides a better path for these citizens to work across the border, they will continue to be mixed in with the criminals, and demonized for that inescapable association.
Let's make both America and Mexico a better place for Mexicans. Lift the caps on Latino immigration.
Do you see where I'm going with this?
First of all: I know, stereotype. I'm being a terrible person, talking about Mexican immigration and using an implement of gardening to illustrate my point. Bear with me.
Arizona's new immigration law regarding state law enforcement is an excellent case of the state of Arizona trying to stop the hose's water with their hands. I can tell you what will happen: The water, IE illegal immigrants, will get in by other paths. The Arizona law, SB1070, is a useless law that will cause dangerous strain between racial groups.
It's not useless because of its intention. It's useless because it's only half of a solution. Until there is a more streamlined path for poor, earnest Mexican citizens to enter the United States for work, any measure pertaining to protecting our borders will not succeed. There is precious little that the American government can do to alleviate the poverty in its southern neighbor, and an attempt might be seen as intrusive. What America can do is allow more Mexican citizens to enter legally. The immense and unending flow of illegal immigrants is evidence that there is a market for such a measure. Not all of those millions upon millions of border-crossers can be the monstrous gangsters the Right would have you believe they are.
I agree with the voices on the Right that decry the federal government for failing on one of their major constitutional obligations: the protection of the nation's borders, both north and south. However, in this case, Protection doesn't need to carry a just rifle. Protection can carry a work permit, too.
Until Mexico is a full First World nation, or until America is on par economically, there will be a stream of honest, good, hard-working Mexican citizens traveling to America for work, and there will always be a market for their labor. Until America provides a better path for these citizens to work across the border, they will continue to be mixed in with the criminals, and demonized for that inescapable association.
Let's make both America and Mexico a better place for Mexicans. Lift the caps on Latino immigration.
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
The Myth of White Heritage
My father, being an out-spoken conservative, raised me to the tune of talk radio personalities. So it was often that I heard this claim: "If there can be a black history month, why can there not be a white history month? And is this disbarment not a subtle, new form of racism, a quiet racism against whites?" I couldn't help but ponder the idea. It made a degree of sense at the time. But something about it made me feel uneasy, as if I were going bald and accidentally goosestepping to the drums. It wasn't until recently that I could put a reason to this uneasiness.
The fact of the matter is this: There is no such thing as "white heritage."
There is such a thing as black heritage because the African-American community is a very specific community which has a common history; they are a group that has suffered shared trials. There have been many different ideas of resolutions for this conflict, but there was, and is, a shared experience of being black in America. There is also such a thing as Irish heritage, and German heritage, and Czech and Gyspy and Jewish and Italian and English heritage. But "white heritage?" There is no such thing because the term "white" does not refer to a specific community, "white" has no shared social and cultural experience. History gives us plenty of certain Caucasian groups oppressing other Caucasian groups, like the Jews, the Irish, etcetera. Each of these distinct ethnicities has something of a shared culture. This vague concept of "white" has no shared culture.
If one wants a lesson in "white history," perhaps one should open a history book. History in America, as in countless other countries, is written by and about Caucasians because, for centuries, Caucasians were the only ones allowed to make history in Western nations. That's not to say that there aren't notable non-white, non-Christian people in history, that have had an immeasurable impact on the world at large. The sad fact is, however, that for the past several centuries, Caucasian people have barred foreigners from participating in the political and cultural evolutions of many Western nations. This thing, "white history," surrounds us already. Why would we need a month devoted to it, when there are already innumerable high school and college classes, countless textbooks devoted to this subject?
Let's face it: this notion of "white heritage" is a thinly veiled manifestation of the age-old monster of white racism. It seeks to promote an idea without merit nor sense, but rather with diabolical potential. The point of celebrating heritage is to strengthen the bonds between people of that shared heritage, and this is especially important to any group who is in the minority, so that their culture might survive. However, for any group of people who are in the majority, who are disproportionally over-represented in the legislative branches of government, who are disproportionately wealthier than the other ethnic and religious groups in their nation, who have no shared cultural experience and are only superficially linked, for any group of people like this to have a "celebration of their heritage," it isn't an innocent event. It is a call to arms, and should be feared. Any form it would take would have an undercurrent of virulent xenophobia, and would threaten to boil over into a celebration of hatred.
"White heritage" is a myth, and a bad one at that.
The fact of the matter is this: There is no such thing as "white heritage."
There is such a thing as black heritage because the African-American community is a very specific community which has a common history; they are a group that has suffered shared trials. There have been many different ideas of resolutions for this conflict, but there was, and is, a shared experience of being black in America. There is also such a thing as Irish heritage, and German heritage, and Czech and Gyspy and Jewish and Italian and English heritage. But "white heritage?" There is no such thing because the term "white" does not refer to a specific community, "white" has no shared social and cultural experience. History gives us plenty of certain Caucasian groups oppressing other Caucasian groups, like the Jews, the Irish, etcetera. Each of these distinct ethnicities has something of a shared culture. This vague concept of "white" has no shared culture.
If one wants a lesson in "white history," perhaps one should open a history book. History in America, as in countless other countries, is written by and about Caucasians because, for centuries, Caucasians were the only ones allowed to make history in Western nations. That's not to say that there aren't notable non-white, non-Christian people in history, that have had an immeasurable impact on the world at large. The sad fact is, however, that for the past several centuries, Caucasian people have barred foreigners from participating in the political and cultural evolutions of many Western nations. This thing, "white history," surrounds us already. Why would we need a month devoted to it, when there are already innumerable high school and college classes, countless textbooks devoted to this subject?
Let's face it: this notion of "white heritage" is a thinly veiled manifestation of the age-old monster of white racism. It seeks to promote an idea without merit nor sense, but rather with diabolical potential. The point of celebrating heritage is to strengthen the bonds between people of that shared heritage, and this is especially important to any group who is in the minority, so that their culture might survive. However, for any group of people who are in the majority, who are disproportionally over-represented in the legislative branches of government, who are disproportionately wealthier than the other ethnic and religious groups in their nation, who have no shared cultural experience and are only superficially linked, for any group of people like this to have a "celebration of their heritage," it isn't an innocent event. It is a call to arms, and should be feared. Any form it would take would have an undercurrent of virulent xenophobia, and would threaten to boil over into a celebration of hatred.
"White heritage" is a myth, and a bad one at that.
Friday, January 22, 2010
What Ever Happened to Faye Wray?
I went to my first monthly screening of "The Rocky Horror Picture Show" when I was 15, around the time I started playing guitar, and years before I learned to drive. My two older sisters had been going off and on for a couple of years, and decided to welcome me to the fold. Little did they know that the planned theme for that particular showing was "Bondage Night." I got far more of a surprise than I, nor my sisters, had expected: Lots of leather, lots of skin, lots of music, dancing, cursing and the like.
But it wasn't so big a shock as it must have been all those decades ago when it first premiered. It wasn't even a great shock when people were talking at the screen. Not only had I seen "Mystery Science Theater 3000: The Movie" countless times, but I had lived in a home with VHS. How shocking was it for people to shout at a movie when I had seen people casually converse at home? Let's remember that it wasn't until the 80s that private home movies really started, and during the 70s, the only way to see a movie was to quietly and politely sit in a cinema. Anyway. This event was the closest thing to a religious experience I had ever felt.
The world has changed significantly since Rocky's first fabulous appearance. How common are references to once-taboo sexual acts heard in popular films? How often do bodies in sexual positions appear in ads and on television? How shocking is filmed homosexuality? The embrace of taboo is always a temporary one. What is unacceptable to one generation is desirable to the next. What happens in "The Rocky Horror Picture Show" is tame compared to what we see in modern comedies, dramas, science-fiction, action films, and mystery capers. Sexual and romantic relationships have changed immensely as well, with more people slowly opening their minds to different structures of relationship in regards to gender, sex, monogamy, matrimony, power and communication. The differences between our era and that of Brad and Janet seems as distant as another planet, though politics has always been the same game.
Despite these changes which, in theory, should render the Rocky Horror experience ineffective, I have been to countless Rocky Horror occasions since my deflowering at 15. I stopped counting how many times I'd gone to Seattle's one and only monthly screening at the Admiral after I reached my sixteenth showing. I attended the first screening at the Mount Baker Theater in Bellingham in 2008. I played the Rocky Horror himself in a stage production at Bellevue College, and was blessed to see a school from Colorado put on the most extravagant, excessive and hilarious production that an academic budget could allow, creating a spectacle superior to many professional productions. My own notoriety in my college career was partially due to my knowledge of Rocky Horror call-backs, and I frequented many a private showing to provide the appropriate atmosphere.
Over these past nine years of Rocky Horror experiences, I've observed the differences between the many different audiences of Rocky. Being onstage for this show was the closest I've ever come to being a rock star: hundreds of rapt audience members excited for my appearance and my performance, very suggestive glances after the show which led to later, more private spectacles of a different variety. The production in Bellingham was packed every night, and the cast threw themselves into the work with joyful abandon. The hours I have spent in friendly and strange living rooms in front of TV screens and DVD players shouting dirty jokes are precious. I have nothing but love for these memories.
But what of those monthly screenings at the Admiral in West Seattle? What are they like?
The best word to describe them: "Bloated." The innumerable virgins crowd out the scant few veterans. Over time, the cast became more and more ineffectual and closed-off from the fans. There are so many voices, it's impossible to hear the individual call-backs and enjoy them. Overall, these types of monthly screenings are lip-service to a tradition that has lost its meaning to those involved. Frat boys and sorority girls bring their freshman as a means of hazing. Actors, who should be in character, holler call-backs from the stage. Gone is any reverence, even when Dr. Frank-N-Furter appears at his most beautiful, in this, the most holy moment of the film. There is not an iota of reverence for what this event stands for; the rebels are rebelling against the rebellion, the unending repetition molding what was tradition into mere habit.
Don't let others trick you into believing that Rocky Horror stands for nothing. It stands for absurdity, ridiculousness, sensuality. It is unabashed worship of worldly pleasure, praising the journey for the perfect dress, personal beauty. It is a demolition of those vague virtues collected under the roof of the phrase "traditional values." Nothing stands for nothing, not even nihilism.
What is the point of it all? Why do we go, month by month, to this consistently mediocre event? Why do we waste our time on this habitual, insistent masturbation when we know that patience and dedication could breed a more intense orgasmic experience? Do not mistake these monthly visits for dedication; know that it is merely habit. Habit, the death of adventure, art, sex and intrigue, has infiltrated the ranks of the Rocky Horror experience and sunk its talons deeply into its hot, throbbing flesh.
I admit that I may only speak for the Pacific Northwest, for that is where my experience lies. But of the Pacific Northwest, let me propose, with all my love to Richard O'Brien, Tim Curry, the Roxy cast, the recent revival cast, and everyone who has ever performed this ridiculous and pleasurable show: Let the habit die. Kill the monthly, the weekly, the habitual screening. It does nothing, means nothing, is worth nothing.
But it wasn't so big a shock as it must have been all those decades ago when it first premiered. It wasn't even a great shock when people were talking at the screen. Not only had I seen "Mystery Science Theater 3000: The Movie" countless times, but I had lived in a home with VHS. How shocking was it for people to shout at a movie when I had seen people casually converse at home? Let's remember that it wasn't until the 80s that private home movies really started, and during the 70s, the only way to see a movie was to quietly and politely sit in a cinema. Anyway. This event was the closest thing to a religious experience I had ever felt.
The world has changed significantly since Rocky's first fabulous appearance. How common are references to once-taboo sexual acts heard in popular films? How often do bodies in sexual positions appear in ads and on television? How shocking is filmed homosexuality? The embrace of taboo is always a temporary one. What is unacceptable to one generation is desirable to the next. What happens in "The Rocky Horror Picture Show" is tame compared to what we see in modern comedies, dramas, science-fiction, action films, and mystery capers. Sexual and romantic relationships have changed immensely as well, with more people slowly opening their minds to different structures of relationship in regards to gender, sex, monogamy, matrimony, power and communication. The differences between our era and that of Brad and Janet seems as distant as another planet, though politics has always been the same game.
Despite these changes which, in theory, should render the Rocky Horror experience ineffective, I have been to countless Rocky Horror occasions since my deflowering at 15. I stopped counting how many times I'd gone to Seattle's one and only monthly screening at the Admiral after I reached my sixteenth showing. I attended the first screening at the Mount Baker Theater in Bellingham in 2008. I played the Rocky Horror himself in a stage production at Bellevue College, and was blessed to see a school from Colorado put on the most extravagant, excessive and hilarious production that an academic budget could allow, creating a spectacle superior to many professional productions. My own notoriety in my college career was partially due to my knowledge of Rocky Horror call-backs, and I frequented many a private showing to provide the appropriate atmosphere.
Over these past nine years of Rocky Horror experiences, I've observed the differences between the many different audiences of Rocky. Being onstage for this show was the closest I've ever come to being a rock star: hundreds of rapt audience members excited for my appearance and my performance, very suggestive glances after the show which led to later, more private spectacles of a different variety. The production in Bellingham was packed every night, and the cast threw themselves into the work with joyful abandon. The hours I have spent in friendly and strange living rooms in front of TV screens and DVD players shouting dirty jokes are precious. I have nothing but love for these memories.
But what of those monthly screenings at the Admiral in West Seattle? What are they like?
The best word to describe them: "Bloated." The innumerable virgins crowd out the scant few veterans. Over time, the cast became more and more ineffectual and closed-off from the fans. There are so many voices, it's impossible to hear the individual call-backs and enjoy them. Overall, these types of monthly screenings are lip-service to a tradition that has lost its meaning to those involved. Frat boys and sorority girls bring their freshman as a means of hazing. Actors, who should be in character, holler call-backs from the stage. Gone is any reverence, even when Dr. Frank-N-Furter appears at his most beautiful, in this, the most holy moment of the film. There is not an iota of reverence for what this event stands for; the rebels are rebelling against the rebellion, the unending repetition molding what was tradition into mere habit.
Don't let others trick you into believing that Rocky Horror stands for nothing. It stands for absurdity, ridiculousness, sensuality. It is unabashed worship of worldly pleasure, praising the journey for the perfect dress, personal beauty. It is a demolition of those vague virtues collected under the roof of the phrase "traditional values." Nothing stands for nothing, not even nihilism.
What is the point of it all? Why do we go, month by month, to this consistently mediocre event? Why do we waste our time on this habitual, insistent masturbation when we know that patience and dedication could breed a more intense orgasmic experience? Do not mistake these monthly visits for dedication; know that it is merely habit. Habit, the death of adventure, art, sex and intrigue, has infiltrated the ranks of the Rocky Horror experience and sunk its talons deeply into its hot, throbbing flesh.
I admit that I may only speak for the Pacific Northwest, for that is where my experience lies. But of the Pacific Northwest, let me propose, with all my love to Richard O'Brien, Tim Curry, the Roxy cast, the recent revival cast, and everyone who has ever performed this ridiculous and pleasurable show: Let the habit die. Kill the monthly, the weekly, the habitual screening. It does nothing, means nothing, is worth nothing.
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Pretentious Pricks Are We
I've read a few books on theatre history, theory, and method in my short time: Boleslavsky, Stanislavski, Bogart, Brooks, Whang, just to name a few. Every book I read on this subject does contain lots of information, much of which is useful. But, simultaneously, I feel disdainful and exasperated by these books. "God, why do they have to be so preachy, poetic and pretentious?" At some point in the book, this occurs. And I'm not alone. It's been echoed by friends and peers. Theorists are, on some level, pretentious and prick-like during their writing career. And don't think I haven't noticed it in my own writing, reader. I'm one step ahead of you there. Why do you think I'm writing this entry?
Let's break it down. What does it mean to be pretentious, literally? I'm going to show my Bogart colors and get some definitions going here. According to Merriam Webster's dictionary, the word "pretentious" is defined as, "1: Characterized by pretension: as A: making usually unjustified or excessive claims (as of value or standing) B: expressive of affected, unwarranted, or exaggerated importance, worth, or stature, or 2: Making demands on one's skill, ability, or means : ambitious."
We can safely assume that definition #2 is not what we're discussing when we're talking about dramatic theorists, though many are ambitious. So let's say that, yes, someone who is pretentious is generally characterized by pretension, which is, "1: an allegation of doubtful value; 2: a claim or an effort to establish a claim; 3: a claim or right to attention or honor because of merit." Okay, now we're getting somewhere. So a pretentious person makes claims which are dubious, like music elitists who can and will claim any number of bizarre things, from Nirvana being more influential than The Beatles, or saying that Bob Dylan's voice is beautiful. These are pretentious claims. They are unjustified.
More than that, it's merely the act of making "excessive claims." For example, to call Theatre the ultimate artistic experience, combining all forms into one mighty orgasmic adventure... Night be considered pretentious.
But it is more than that. Pretentious people, that is, people who have pretension, claim a "right to attention or honor because of merit." So dramatic theorists believe themselves to be worthy of attention and honor because of merit? Of course they do. The merit of writing about the glory of Theatre is what we want our credit for.
We dramatic theorists and inciters of change are the annoying people who claim to know what they're talking about. We claim to know what is best for the theatre, and the only way to convince you is through rhetoric, logic, and experience. Sometimes, theorists depend on one more than the other (I'm looking at you, Peter Brooks, cut the poetry). The ones found to be most "pretentious" by my peers tend to be those which rely more on poetry than reason and 1st hand knowledge. That is to say, if you rely on rhetoric to convince readers of your words, rather than more grounded methods like logic and experience, you come off as unjustified and excessive in your claims.
So pretension is a necessary danger in this kind of writing. Don't hate it, try and see through it, find the meat of the matter. We can't help sounding like we know it all. Because we do.
Let's break it down. What does it mean to be pretentious, literally? I'm going to show my Bogart colors and get some definitions going here. According to Merriam Webster's dictionary, the word "pretentious" is defined as, "1: Characterized by pretension: as A: making usually unjustified or excessive claims (as of value or standing) B: expressive of affected, unwarranted, or exaggerated importance, worth, or stature, or 2: Making demands on one's skill, ability, or means : ambitious."
We can safely assume that definition #2 is not what we're discussing when we're talking about dramatic theorists, though many are ambitious. So let's say that, yes, someone who is pretentious is generally characterized by pretension, which is, "1: an allegation of doubtful value; 2: a claim or an effort to establish a claim; 3: a claim or right to attention or honor because of merit." Okay, now we're getting somewhere. So a pretentious person makes claims which are dubious, like music elitists who can and will claim any number of bizarre things, from Nirvana being more influential than The Beatles, or saying that Bob Dylan's voice is beautiful. These are pretentious claims. They are unjustified.
More than that, it's merely the act of making "excessive claims." For example, to call Theatre the ultimate artistic experience, combining all forms into one mighty orgasmic adventure... Night be considered pretentious.
But it is more than that. Pretentious people, that is, people who have pretension, claim a "right to attention or honor because of merit." So dramatic theorists believe themselves to be worthy of attention and honor because of merit? Of course they do. The merit of writing about the glory of Theatre is what we want our credit for.
We dramatic theorists and inciters of change are the annoying people who claim to know what they're talking about. We claim to know what is best for the theatre, and the only way to convince you is through rhetoric, logic, and experience. Sometimes, theorists depend on one more than the other (I'm looking at you, Peter Brooks, cut the poetry). The ones found to be most "pretentious" by my peers tend to be those which rely more on poetry than reason and 1st hand knowledge. That is to say, if you rely on rhetoric to convince readers of your words, rather than more grounded methods like logic and experience, you come off as unjustified and excessive in your claims.
So pretension is a necessary danger in this kind of writing. Don't hate it, try and see through it, find the meat of the matter. We can't help sounding like we know it all. Because we do.
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
An Idealistic Point of View on the Music Industry
Listen: The Music Industry has become unstuck in time. It's a very awkward situation, especially since the industry is unaware of its predicament. At once, three eras are taking place: The era of the player piano, when publishers of sheet music complained that no one would want to play piano anymore, since consumers could let pianos do the work; The dawning era of top-40 radio, when record companies complained that no one would by singles anymore, since the radio gave consumers music for free; and finally, our own, when the highly profitable recording companies of the universe are coming down on file sharing as a threat to their profits.
They're right. File sharing is the greatest threat to modern recording companies in recent history. It is also the greatest friend to independent artists everywhere. Thanks to the Internet, there's a viable and successful medium to promoting oneself without breaking the bank or kowtowing to businessmen. And there are countless methods within the medium.
The question has been raised again and again: how can an artist succeed by giving away what she produces? This is a question that is bred under the assumption that an electronic music file is a consumer product. This isn’t so, not anymore. So-called “piracy,” more accurately “file-sharing,” has changed all of that. Electronic files can be bought, sure, but they're not the same as an actual product. They can be duplicated with the push of a button, and the duplicate will be the exact same quality of the original, unlike most things bought and sold.
Digital files are the greatest weapon mass culture can use against profit-centric music corporations; the two have never been good bedfellows. The success and empowerment of one often damages the other. They’ve been together because we’ve allowed them to be thrust together. We’ve allowed ourselves, all people, to consider a piece of recorded music as a product to be bought and sold on the market.
And this definition no longer makes sense. It is archaic.
With electronic files so easily duplicated, why not use that to our advantage? Why not stop trying to squelch the spread of access and information? This is not a matter of ownership. Whoever wrote the song in question can forever claim origins. Sharing an electronic file does not prevent another person from its use, which makes it different than "stealing."
The claim is that when you share an electronic music file, it will sap income from the artist. Now, supposing that the artist is actually making money from the digital files, which bit rare when one is talking about signed artists, let’s break down this claim. When one person “steals” a music file, does that person keep it for themselves? No. More often than not, people will spread the music they like to other people. No one hoards music; it is a social medium. Mix CD’s, recommendations, DJing, cover songs at open mics, all of these things spread music, and they spread music for free. Fans are publicizing their favorite artists on the Internet, and they do it for free. This is the kind of work that people at record companies used to be paid thousands of dollars to do.
So what does an artist have to gain from this network of file sharing? Where do they make their living? Artists: Your fans like you, if you’re any good, and they want to support you. Spreading your music digitally is their way of showing that they want more people to know about you. They can support you by buying tickets to your shows, buying your merchandise, and buying your albums.
“But wait,” I hear the lawyers in the audience say. “You’re talking about giving away songs for free. Now you’re talking about selling the album.” I assure you, this is no hypocrisy. After all, by that definition, aren’t artists selling their songs by selling concert tickets? No, they’re not. What they’re selling is an experience more than the skeleton of the music can provide. Concerts are live entertainment, a social gathering, an experience. Albums are mementos, works of art, keepsakes, collectibles, and shows of support. Concerts and albums provide beyond the simple digital files.
What stands in the way, then? Well, the fear of total loss is deeply ingrained in us. When I consider giving away music files for free, I, too, fear that it may be a dangerous risk. But the risks are worth taking. Why? Because I’m an independent artist without backing and with a narrow group of fans. The more my music spreads, the more I will succeed. The same reasons I play free shows.
The new system of music distribution is most dangerous to record companies as we know them, with a strong emphasis on "as we know them." Artists that have a successful career will continue to have that successful career as long as they are visible and prolific. It’s no longer possible to record a good album and then rest your laurels, letting royalties and sales pay for your kids’ education. Might want to limit the illegitimate children, there, Screamin' Jay. In the future, you have to work even harder for it. An artists’ life was never meant to be easy. But people with the major labels? Those illustrious businessmen? They will have to find a new line of work. With music spreading for free, they will no longer have a purpose or a means of profit. Those that deeply care about music will innovate different ways to provide support. Those that don't care will flee for more profitable waters. Record companies will change as we know them. Will this make the music industry just? No. It will make it more open.
The harder major labels try to limit access, the more they inflame file sharing. Digital Rights Management (DRM) is a perfect example of this. DRM limits the actions that a consumer can perform using a protected file. This inhibits file sharing, for sure. But the unintended consequence is that it hurts legal users worse. Illegal users find ways around DRM. Legal users are stuck with it, and when they buy a new computer, something that becomes necessary every five or six years, some of their music won’t transfer because of these little rights protections, leaving them with the only option: what record companies deem “piracy.”
The problem with this is that the basic actions taken by a clean-cut, law-abiding citizen or a scurvy-infected, digital pirate are the same. Programming can’t discern intent.
So, in conclusion, here are the basics of the future: 1) Give away digital music for free, 2) banish recording companies as we know them from the music industry, and 3) let your fans help you. They really do want to. Someone who shares your music with others is not a pick-pocket, but a positive reference on your resume. Give them the respect they deserve.
They're right. File sharing is the greatest threat to modern recording companies in recent history. It is also the greatest friend to independent artists everywhere. Thanks to the Internet, there's a viable and successful medium to promoting oneself without breaking the bank or kowtowing to businessmen. And there are countless methods within the medium.
The question has been raised again and again: how can an artist succeed by giving away what she produces? This is a question that is bred under the assumption that an electronic music file is a consumer product. This isn’t so, not anymore. So-called “piracy,” more accurately “file-sharing,” has changed all of that. Electronic files can be bought, sure, but they're not the same as an actual product. They can be duplicated with the push of a button, and the duplicate will be the exact same quality of the original, unlike most things bought and sold.
Digital files are the greatest weapon mass culture can use against profit-centric music corporations; the two have never been good bedfellows. The success and empowerment of one often damages the other. They’ve been together because we’ve allowed them to be thrust together. We’ve allowed ourselves, all people, to consider a piece of recorded music as a product to be bought and sold on the market.
And this definition no longer makes sense. It is archaic.
With electronic files so easily duplicated, why not use that to our advantage? Why not stop trying to squelch the spread of access and information? This is not a matter of ownership. Whoever wrote the song in question can forever claim origins. Sharing an electronic file does not prevent another person from its use, which makes it different than "stealing."
The claim is that when you share an electronic music file, it will sap income from the artist. Now, supposing that the artist is actually making money from the digital files, which bit rare when one is talking about signed artists, let’s break down this claim. When one person “steals” a music file, does that person keep it for themselves? No. More often than not, people will spread the music they like to other people. No one hoards music; it is a social medium. Mix CD’s, recommendations, DJing, cover songs at open mics, all of these things spread music, and they spread music for free. Fans are publicizing their favorite artists on the Internet, and they do it for free. This is the kind of work that people at record companies used to be paid thousands of dollars to do.
So what does an artist have to gain from this network of file sharing? Where do they make their living? Artists: Your fans like you, if you’re any good, and they want to support you. Spreading your music digitally is their way of showing that they want more people to know about you. They can support you by buying tickets to your shows, buying your merchandise, and buying your albums.
“But wait,” I hear the lawyers in the audience say. “You’re talking about giving away songs for free. Now you’re talking about selling the album.” I assure you, this is no hypocrisy. After all, by that definition, aren’t artists selling their songs by selling concert tickets? No, they’re not. What they’re selling is an experience more than the skeleton of the music can provide. Concerts are live entertainment, a social gathering, an experience. Albums are mementos, works of art, keepsakes, collectibles, and shows of support. Concerts and albums provide beyond the simple digital files.
What stands in the way, then? Well, the fear of total loss is deeply ingrained in us. When I consider giving away music files for free, I, too, fear that it may be a dangerous risk. But the risks are worth taking. Why? Because I’m an independent artist without backing and with a narrow group of fans. The more my music spreads, the more I will succeed. The same reasons I play free shows.
The new system of music distribution is most dangerous to record companies as we know them, with a strong emphasis on "as we know them." Artists that have a successful career will continue to have that successful career as long as they are visible and prolific. It’s no longer possible to record a good album and then rest your laurels, letting royalties and sales pay for your kids’ education. Might want to limit the illegitimate children, there, Screamin' Jay. In the future, you have to work even harder for it. An artists’ life was never meant to be easy. But people with the major labels? Those illustrious businessmen? They will have to find a new line of work. With music spreading for free, they will no longer have a purpose or a means of profit. Those that deeply care about music will innovate different ways to provide support. Those that don't care will flee for more profitable waters. Record companies will change as we know them. Will this make the music industry just? No. It will make it more open.
The harder major labels try to limit access, the more they inflame file sharing. Digital Rights Management (DRM) is a perfect example of this. DRM limits the actions that a consumer can perform using a protected file. This inhibits file sharing, for sure. But the unintended consequence is that it hurts legal users worse. Illegal users find ways around DRM. Legal users are stuck with it, and when they buy a new computer, something that becomes necessary every five or six years, some of their music won’t transfer because of these little rights protections, leaving them with the only option: what record companies deem “piracy.”
The problem with this is that the basic actions taken by a clean-cut, law-abiding citizen or a scurvy-infected, digital pirate are the same. Programming can’t discern intent.
So, in conclusion, here are the basics of the future: 1) Give away digital music for free, 2) banish recording companies as we know them from the music industry, and 3) let your fans help you. They really do want to. Someone who shares your music with others is not a pick-pocket, but a positive reference on your resume. Give them the respect they deserve.
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