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Monday, 30 June 2003 18:00

“Shedding Your Baby Fat; Is It Time?” In a time when the economy is at such a low point, it is becoming increasingly hard for bands to make it big. In the last five years, countless good bands have either been dropped by their labels or found themselves in insurmountable debt to pay back their recording advance (i.e., St. Louis’s Colony). Preparing for this month’s column, I immediately thought of a line from Allen Ginsberg’s “Howl”: “I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked, angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of the night.” That, for me, personifies the struggle of one in a penniless industry. In no way am I trying to discourage those who yearn for a career in the music industry, but many fail to realize that behind all the glitz and glamour is a faceless and ruthless industry.

In the early ’90s, new artists had to sell between 150,000 to 250,000 records in order to avoid being dropped by their record label; nowadays, that number is upwards of 400,000. In his book, Black Coffee Blues, Henry Rollins states, “I got three letters today telling me that I am God. Why can’t I pay the rent?” This comes from a man who, while regarded by many as a legend and a success, has never sold 400,000 copies of anything in his life.

Once you get past the sad truth about how hard it is to get into the industry, let’s look at what happens behind those pearly white gates. Ever hear of an A&R guy? Says Steve Albini, independent and corporate rock producer, in The Problem With Music: “These guys are universally young [about the same age as the bands being wooed], and nowadays they always have some obvious underground rock credibility flag they can wave. There are several reasons A&R scouts are always young. The explanation usually copped-to is that the scout will be hip to the current musical ‘scene.’ A more important reason is that the bands will intuitively trust someone they think is a peer, and who speaks fondly of the same formative rock and roll experiences.

These A&R guys are not allowed to write contracts. What they do is present the band with a letter of intent, or ‘deal memo,’ which loosely states some terms, and affirms that the band will sign with the label once a contract has been agreed on. The spookiest thing about this harmless sounding little memo is that it is, for all legal purposes, a binding document. That is, once the band signs it, they are under obligation to conclude a deal with the label.”

Hook, line, and sinker! All the record company has to do now, if you refuse to sign a contract after signing the preliminary letter, is wait, because there are countless other bands who will be perfectly willing to sign. And since these letters never have any terms of expiration, you are now bound to sign with that label and that label only and are completely locked out of releasing any material until you do so. This is why you must get a lawyer and have him or her read every single document. It is for your own protection.

Now that you’ve signed, what happens to your music after it is published? Everyone reading this should’ve caught the flaw in the previous sentence. I referred to the music as “yours,” which it is definitely not. “When you look at the legal line on a CD, it says copyright 1976 Atlantic Records or copyright 1996 RCA Records. When you look at a book, though, it’ll say something like copyright 1999 Susan Faludi, or David Foster Wallace. Authors own their books and license them to publishers. When the contract runs out, writers gets their books back. But record companies own our copyrights forever. The system’s set up so almost nobody gets paid,” claims Courtney Love in her book, Courtney Love Does the Math.

Furthermore, provisions under the 1978 Copyright Act take the copyright issue to a new level. In November 1999, Congressional Aide Mitch Glazier, along with the Recording Industry Association of America, engineered a technical amendment ultimately defining recorded music as “work for hire.” This puts making a record in the same class as translating documents and writing standardized tests. In the past, by law, you were allowed to reclaim the copyright to a recorded piece after 35 years, so at least your work could become part of your family legacy. Now, under the new amendment, the record company can auction off your work to the highest bidder, and their hold of it will never expire.

Do not let these facts scare you. Rather, let them wake you up to the frightening world that is the recording industry. To make it today, one must work very hard, doing all of the necessary legwork well before even thinking of signing to a label. This is where college radio comes in; take the money you make from shows and working your nine-to-five and put it into recording your demo and having it duplicated. Then get on the phones and get that record out there. Next month, we’ll talk more about the steps you can take to promote yourself and your record—steps that will put you one step closer than the rest of the pack.

Tune in next month for Episode 3: “The Art of the Demo.”


Mike Tomko is the acting Program and Music Director for KGLX The Galaxy, the radio station of Webster University, www.kglx.org.