Contributors adé dé (aka dynamism) artist-owner
afrosurrealist x multimedia healing artist x solidarity economist. insta: @thisheretree
Alyana Vera
worker-owner, editor
Alyana is a Massachusetts-based music journalist whose work has been featured in print and online.
Austin Robey worker-owner
Austin Robey is a Co-founder and Director of Operations at Ampled. He is based in Brooklyn, NY.
Robert Driscoll designer
Designer and musician. Living and working in Brooklyn.
Nathan Hewitt artist
Nathan Hewitt is a musician and fiscal sponsorship nerd based in NYC. He's really into non-traditional organizing structures. He also used to deejay and make travel zines.
Michelle Chamuel artist-owner
Michelle Chamuel is an independent music producer, art maker, and sound engineer. For more information about her, please visit her Ampled page.
Weston Dombroski worker-owner
Weston has degrees in music performance and business and is a licensed attorney in the state of IL. After spending a number of years as a musician, some time working in arts nonprofits, and a few years on Patreon's legal team, he now works full-time for Discord at the intersection of user-generated content and the law.
Alex Siber
community member
Vice President of Good Intentions (Catalog), Infrequent Words Person (Pigeons & Planes), and Maker of Bad Music (Morian)
Guy Blakeslee artist
Los Angeles based Guy Blakeslee transmits experimental cassette recordings and handmade collage artifacts from a Virginia farm.
Pete Donnelly
Dana Purser Gary
Pete Donnelly (aka Satorian) is a tree enthusiast, performer, and audiovisual producer currently residing in the Nashville metro area.
Dana Purser Gary is a nonbinary performer, singer-songwriter, and multi-instrumentalist based in Nashville, TN.
artist
artist-owner
Year
in
Review
One year ago, while most of the ic Ampled workers were in a pandem nched lockdown in NYC, Ampled was lau to the public.
Members of the Ampled community weathered lay-offs, health emergencies, canceled tours, and more. Despite this, the Ampled tent community has remained a consis source of optimism. Seeing this small community grow around an intrinsic desire to generously hing support each other has been not short of inspiring.
part If you’re reading this, you are you of the Ampled community. Thank for building Ampled with us.
y Here’s to one year down, and man more to come.
out of the blue
e
in the middle of nowher there goes everything
by:
adé (aka dynamism)
Ampled
Alex
I looked and listened back, be that by tracing family ties to the sounds of Lebanon, obsessing over Spiritualized album packaging from the 90’s, or discovering meditation in the time it takes to rewind a cassette player. I also looked ahead, imagining different models of consumption and monetization for anyone looking to make a living from art. That led me to Ampled. It’s a raw seed of an idea today. That it took 1000s of hours of labor to nurture it this far suggests a winding road ahead. But I have faith in collective ownership, in this scattered group of people trying to prove there’s a better way. And that lets me have faith in the sound of the future, drowning out fatalism’s taunts just long enough to maybe build something special together.
torn & frayed by Guy Blakeslee
This past year was the loudest I can remember—a standstill that pierced our social veil before dragging the curtain through the blaze. Incentive structures at the rotten heart of it all are in our collective crosshairs. Because a chunk of my neurons long ago decided to hold the rest hostage, hellbent on turning my brain into a generator for random song references, my personal aim focused on the music industry. A March 2020 layoff left me distanced from all the common behaviors I hated, and, after a couple years in Los Angeles, inevitably mirrored: reflexively eyeballing monthly listener counts, trading “artists” for “things” in conversation with other “professionals,” altogether struggling to bring empathy and patience to each conversation I entered. Even when you’re working somewhere that’s trying to do the right thing, or at least marketing as much, it’s tough to meaningfully change anything when rent’s due, when success = scale, when all roads lead to a centralized platform that wins when performers and songwriters earn less. Forced disengagement was a gift. The clock seemed to tick a little slower and my inquisition roamed free.
by:
Re: Music in the Pandemic Years
by:
Where are we, and Pete where are we going?
If the past year has shown us anything, it is the fragility of the music and entertainment industries. Myself, alongside thousands of other independent artists, musicians, and other music professionals, have felt intense economic pressure despite the government relief measures which have not been able to support all of us. If I am certain of anything, however, it is my belief in the resilience of the artists and arts workers who bring together all of the skills necessary to create the wide and varied music scene of the 21st century. There has really never been a worse time —— or a better time —— to be a musician: we have practically infinite possibilities for creation through powerful tools and knowledge bases available for cheaper than ever in human history. With a few clicks I can pull together a range of timbres and tones that used to only be possible with a symphony orchestra (or huge synthesizers and sample banks).
We are also subject to the whims of the failing capitalist technocracy which has continuously proven its inefficiency in supporting those most in need. Despite the benefits we experience thanks to technological advancement, these developments have demonstrably 1 failed to viably support marginalized individuals and have exacerbated the staggering inequalities in our society and economic system. Writing this in 2021, it seems that these robber barons are overplaying their hand. A cultural foment is underway, forming a pattern of decentralized rebellions and growing anti-establishment thought. The proverbial kettle has gotten too hot and too confined. I spent the better part of the year mulling over the growing sense of anomie as I have drifted from day job to day job in hopes of finding something which doesn’t leave me numb at the end of the day 2.
1 For venture capitalists, that is.
2 Still working on this, please contact me with any leads, I will be forever grateful.
Where are we, and where are we going?
by Pete
My musical journey this year has been relatively solitary, thanks to our socially distanced reality. As a classically trained composer primarily working with Sibelius to create scores, I have taken the time to become proficient at using Ableton Live. I committed to sitting down with the DAW every day, and I learned that creating, while sometimes challenging, helped me to level myself after a long day of manual labor. While this solitary creativity has been necessary and beneficial, I’m certain I echo the sentiment of many others when I say that the absence of live music veritably knocked the wind out of me.
Before the pandemic hit, I frequented house shows and DIY spaces where I spent time with many friends and strangers; I have not been able to find a replacement for the kinds of meaningful connection I found in these spaces. It was as if my main source of community was sucked into an abyss. The position I held at the Nashville Symphony Box Office in order to pay the bills was cut almost immediately at the onset of the virus. It shocked me that an organization of such scale and recognition was experiencing difficulty. This made me consider how creators on a smaller scale have fared.
In conversations with my peers in the independent and underground music scene here in Nashville, our careers have all been threatened to an unprecedented degree. Streaming, which was once hailed as an avenue for artists to build a steady income, has only made it more difficult to survive as a musician. $.0.00318 is how much Spotify values 3 the average stream; it should be clear by now that this model does not work for us. It seems to be an open secret of our times that artists cannot (and should not) expect to make a living. My hope is for this to change. I dream of a world where being an artist is not synonymous with starvation.
”
haunted city by Guy Blakeslee
“
I dream of a world where being an artist is not synonymous with starvation.
Where are we, and where are we going?
by Pete
The only path that I see forward is one where we build shared spaces for creativity, mutual aid, and rebellion against the systems of oppression we face. We must oppose the reduction of the labor of our minds, hearts, hands, and spirit to mere commodities. John Berger’s Ways of Seeing 4 contains prescient observations on the deeply interwoven web of media which is everywhere from Times Square to wristwatches: For the first time ever, images of art have become ephemeral, ubiquitous, insubstantial, available, valueless, free. They surround us in the same way as a language surrounds us. They have entered the mainstream of life over which they no longer, in themselves, have power. The advent of torrents and Youtube downloaders has rendered it incredibly easy to reproduce any form of visual or sonic art transmitted through the Internet. Sounds and images are simultaneously omnipresent and seemingly valueless in the media environment of this era.
To face the issues of the day, we must learn to weave this web and create viable methods of support direct to creators. As musicians, our digital bread is passed from radio stations, streaming companies, labels, management companies, etc, as each takes their chunk from the creator’s rightful due. This is a reflection of trickle-down economic dysfunction, and the pipeline needs to be reversed. A combination of creators acting collectively and autonomously in tandem with release organizations is a potential stepping stone towards a future where artists are abundantly supported, rather than worrying about how to make ends meet.
I believe that we must divest ourselves from the large streaming companies which do not benefit us, until laws can be changed to support artists rather than tech billionaires. It is clear that they have no interest in our livelihoods beyond what they can squeeze into profit margins. Nevertheless, we are their source of income. Their profit comes through our poverty. If enough artists remove content or refuse to release on these large-scale streaming platforms, perhaps we can build up groundswell towards avenues more beneficial for artists.
To conclude, while ethical consumption under capitalism may be impossible, ethical creation under capitalism is an act of rebellion. Creators need to build resilient support networks in order to continue to create the art necessary to inspire a wider social movement. We need direct support for those whose livelihoods rely on art: for what is life without art? And how can there be art without the artists? 3 Pastukhov, Dmitry (2019). https://soundcharts.com/blog/music-streaming-rates-payouts.
4 Berger, J. (2008). Ways of Seeing. Penguin Classics.
Forage Thoughts on Making Music at the End of the World
“WHY CHEAP ART?” manifesto from the Bread & Puppet theatre company, a commune of puppeteers, performers, and artists that rose to prominence protesting the Vietnam War.)
by:
Dana Last week I had a dream about the end of the world. The Earth was progressively hurtling towards the Sun. Earth had not yet started to burn, but the oceans and lakes were rapidly evaporating. The rising tides (our fault) left us in massive curls of steam (not our fault) that extended all the way into space like the watery opposites of solar flares. On the ground, humans collectively returned to a survival-based state of mind that had lain mostly dormant at the base of their skulls for millennia. As a survivor myself, I wandered the wooded perimeter of a red-hot urban wasteland and traveled from tribe to tribe, offering to sing at the nightly campfires in exchange for food and temporary shelter.
The thing I remember most about this dream was the music. I sang folk songs for the tribes, some original, some believed to be written as far back as the 21st century. I remember singing comedies about misadventures in the age of the internet, tragedies about the crimes committed against the poor by the rich (who, predictably, had long since fled the planet they’d ruined), sea shanties from a time when the we took the sea for granted, and the kind of ancient love ballads in which death is no abstraction. It occurred to me that humanity was ending the same way it began: with fire and song.
Forage: Thoughts on Making Music at the End of the World
by Dana
It’s no surprise I had this dream. Making music today feels like being a bard at the end of the world. Every day I write my gay little songs and every day I wake up to suspiciously warmer weather and a news cycle that reads more and more like some kind of sick joke. But I also find it beautiful that the thing I’m turning to for survival is art, or beauty itself. When my health started to fail this past year and I realized I had to quit my job and fall even further into social isolation in order to physically heal, I saw a blank calendar stretching before me indefinitely for the first time I could remember in my life. I started making music every day as a way to process, distract, motivate, and reimagine myself, and I finally admitted something I’d half-known since birth: music is the only option for me. It’s a compulsion that never leaves me the fuck alone, especially when I’m making money doing something else.
“
Making music today feels like being a bard at the end of the world.
”
So I anxiously eyed my savings account, quit my job, threw myself headfirst into learning Logic, finally got the guts to properly record old originals using the tools and instruments that stood incriminatingly still in my closet for years, and then I surprised myself by sharing unfinished songs with close friends. During this time of healing, I’ve made serious progress both musically and personally. Collaboration went from being a distant dream to a central motivating force in my artistry. I am still mostly living off of savings while I begin to teach music lessons, pick up odd gigs, and collaborate with other artists, and I feel very, very awake. All this uncertainty has ironically made me more confident than ever that my calendar (and savings account lmao) will eventually fill itself back up—this time, with better things.
My need to heal by way of making music won out against my (very real!) worries about making money. I trust that I am scrappy and talented enough to make ends meet somehow. And, while I am by no means rich, I fully recognize I was only able to make this risky career switch as a result of certain freedoms afforded me by a confluence of personal, financial, and social privileges.
That being said, my experience reinforced my belief that the “impractical” need to make music exists outside of “practical” capitalistic enterprise and that money is privileged to be in business with music, not the other way around. Music is something we make to survive, like bread.
Forage: Thoughts on Making Music at the End of the World
by Dana
But how can I reconcile my desires to both divest music from capitalism and make a living in a capitalist economy solely from making music? What if we solve the problem of the devaluation of music by making it free? Then what will we eat? I guess my more near-sighted daydream is that I want musicians to be able to make a profit solely by making music, but I don’t want musicians to feel pressured to make profit-minded music. My instincts echo Peter’s: our best bet for the near future is most likely encouraging patrons to invest in artists directly so that artists are no longer at the mercy of middle-men who surely have a profit-based motivation to influence the content of the art they handle. Crowdfunding websites like P*tr**n seem like a promising approach at first—fascinating both for their revival of an ancient tradition of arts patronage as well as their novelty in allowing us non-nobles to remotely and directly support our peers—but I also feel queasy asking people to pay extra money for a more personalized, face-to-face artist/patron experience. If we already hesitate to put a price tag on art, shouldn’t we hesitate even more to put a price tag on people seeking a stronger connection with the artists who inspire them? Music, socialization, and inspiration are all things people need, and if we’re all anti-capitalists here, don’t we agree people shouldn’t have to pay for things they need? If my mom were reading this, she’d say, “You’re probably thinking you’re thinking brilliantly but, actually, you’re just overthinking.”
If you’re a fellow overthinker and you grapple with the question of ethical artistry under capitalism, you are far from alone. I think about this all the time, like when I agonize over what to charge fellow millennials for music lessons when I know neither of us have disposable income but they feel the need to learn and I feel the need to pay my rent. I think about it when I get a $10 donation on Bandcamp from a friend and after all the fees I get to keep $3.50. I think about it when I wonder if I should only post my music on my personal website where I won’t have any fees (apart from the cost of maintaining the website) but no one will ever discover it. I think about how my best shot at successful DIY marketing necessitates contributing free content to social media platforms that are tearing our world apart. Oddly, when I consider these things, I feel more pity than anger. I pity us, living in a cannibalistic economy where art is so cheapened that I feel guilty charging someone for the use of my specialized skills. I even pity every person taking a nibble out of my profits because they’re just trying to make their own little living (and judging by how much money my music makes, they’re probably not doing so well either). I often wonder if I wouldn’t be better off wandering the woods with my guitar singing ballads with strangers in exchange for a seat by the fire.
Forage: Thoughts on Making Music at the End of the World
by Dana
But until we find that perfect system where everyone has money for rent and no one is exploited in the process, I’m gonna try to forgive myself and others for spending and making money off of something that is really too sacred for all this nonsense anyways.
stories by Guy Blakeslee
At the end of my apocalyptic dream, I prepared to cross an empty highway. I knew this was a dangerous act because open roads afford no place to hide. As I reached the yellow line in the middle of the road, I was suddenly shot from behind by a hunter’s arrow. I felt no anger, even as I lay dying. In fact, I felt deeply connected to the hunter because I understood why they shot me: they were desperate for something to eat.
Why I’m On Ampled
Originally published on the Ampled Blog on October 5th, 2020
by:
Michelle
Since the advent of the internet as we know it today, I have had a tumultuous relationship with social media (to be more specific about the timeline, it was after “poking” was over and “newsfeeds” came into play). I’ve also had issues with the often exploitive methods of marketing, business, and promotion that come with the commodification of art (and many other things, but today we’re speaking about art!).
Social media is currently a big part of how we communicate with each other, and it’s especially tied into sharing music and creative content. Today’s most commonly used social media platforms are owned by for-profit corporations that are making decisions to increase profits above any other motivation. This set of priorities doesn’t seem to support the employees or user base.
To further express my point, I will recount a story from an episode of Shark Tank. So, on this episode there was a man who was selected by a shark investor. The man had an idea to make music education materials and employ people in his struggling town. After a year, his company was now employing a lot of people in the town and the business was bringing in over a million dollars a year. The shark who invested in the man came to the small town for a one year check up. The shark told the man he had done well and now they needed to outsource all labor overseas for the company to “get to the next level.” The man asked why they couldn’t just keep doing what they were doing, when they were doing so well and his hometown was starting to thrive again. The shark answered something like, “because if you’re not doubling your profits every year, you’re dying!” and continued to pressure the man, who eventually found some other way of lowering costs to appease the shark.
This story stuck with me. Contrary to the shark, I believe an entity can grow in a way that is symbiotic with the community it serves/employs and continue existing in this manner without needing to constantly expand. I also wonder what this constant expansion really serves, and at whose expense is it? I think the user base, employees, and environment are footing this (ever-expanding) bill.
Why I’m On Ampled
by Michelle
This profit first mentality guides the operation of many businesses, and social media companies are no exception. I remember when social media platforms treated users fairly and let us retain ownership of the content we uploaded. I remember when we could go onto these platforms without ads bombarding us from all sides. I remember when pages we subscribed to could show us content without having to pay to access our feeds. The leading social media of today won’t show me all of the people I follow, they pick and choose for me, and there’s no option to tell it to not tailor content to what it thinks I want to see. And if one uses these platforms enough, I would argue, they begin to shape who we are, turning us into who they think we are.
On the flip side, most social media platforms have algorithms that choose which posts get more (or less) visibility. Facebook pushes videos longer than three minutes, Instagram favors photos taken with the selfie camera, and the list goes on. By rewarding specific types of content, social media companies are conditioning artists to make the type of content they (the platforms) want more of. This, to me, sounds quite unsavory.
So, why Ampled? I am here because after much searching, I found a platform that pledges to always put artists first —— not profits or investors. It’s a co-op structure, meaning one member, one vote (which doesn’t mean there won’t be any issues, but at least it’s more like being part of a democratic system rather than a feudal one where the rulers sacrifice community for the sake of profit). On Ampled, artists own the content they upload and have actual control over how this content is shared.
I plan on making most of my posts accessible to the public. The idea behind this plan is that people who choose to be supporters are like supporters of public radio or some kind of program people can access with or without signing up. I believe the type of content made on a platform where art and artists come first will be more compelling and original than posts that thrive on profit-driven social media. Much like a community garden or a local food co-op, the money paid on Ampled (for me) is not buying access to content —— it’s supporting content you hope keeps getting made, for everyone’s sake (along with the platform it’s hosted on!).
Believe it or not, Ampled is the only platform I found operating in this equitable way (sidenote: I found out about Ampled thanks to Cherie Hu’s awesome blog —— thanks, Cherie!). No joke! And I want platforms like these to be supported and used. I want artists to control their own art and people who support artists to not be mined for data. So, that’s why I’m here on Ampled! And as Ampled is still quite young, how we use it will determine how it grows and what types of content will thrive. This is extremely exciting, since we now have a chance to shape the media of the future —— together.
Interview with Brian Chase Austin by:
windows by Guy Blakeslee
The theme of this zine is “year in review.” In one word, how would you describe the past year?
Hard.
What have you been working on this year?
This past year I was without my primary area of work: live performance. So, as a result, creative output was circumstantially redirected and emphasis was placed on Chaikin Records, the independent label that I run. There were four releases [this year], all from the NYC avant-garde community. I did audio postproduction for three of the four releases plus another coming out this fall. Not performing provided an opportunity to dive deeper into refining my skills as a mixing and mastering engineer.
Are you a member of a co-op? What’s your experience or perspective on cooperative businesses?
My main experience with cooperatives comes from when I was a student at Oberlin College. The co-ops were student-run and functioned within their own living spaces and specifically dedicated dormitories. They threw great parties!
Interview with Brian Chase
by Austin
What was your first thought when you heard about Ampled?
Wait, what? People taking the initiative to build an online platform created from care and concern for the economic wellbeing of musicians? YES PLEASE LET’S DO IT! During this relatively early phase of the digital age, the economy of music is such a mess and is not sustainable in its current state —— to say it’s still figuring itself out is an understatement. On one side there is Bandcamp which is successful and generally beloved by musicians because it enables self-sustenance and empowerment. On the flip side is Spotify which is successful and generally despised by musicians because it enables dependency and enslavement. I’ll elaborate: Bandcamp promotes the music and its industry —— it cultivates the awareness that music is a fruit that doesn’t grow on trees. Music and musicians have costs and require remuneration. Not only does the music itself have value but there is also everything else that goes into its production like recording costs and extends to food, rent and standard of living. Ampled adopts and promotes a similar ethic. Opposite to this, Spotify promotes the music at the expense of its industry —— it cultivates an awareness that the value of music is expendable, that it can be consumed without any regard for the cost and labor which went into its creation. Spotify holds its authority by exploiting musicians, and musicians grow dependent upon it because it holds its popularity through that exploitation. Musicians already understand this is the predicament but I don’t think many others do or take it to heart. Alternatives are needed. This is where Ampled enters!
How do you see the cooperative model working within music?
I once heard a very intelligent person in a moment of cynicism (imagine that…) say that the reason tRump won the 2016 election was because of…democracy. I don’t really agree but I appreciate the point: to bring awareness to ‘method,’ to call attention to the infrastructure itself for enabling outcome. People have agency to make ‘bad’ choices as well as ‘good’ ones, and they get what they deserve, I suppose. The outcome then functions as an expression of motivating ideals —— if someone idealizes greed and moral bankruptcy and acts on it, then that is what comes out. In such a framework as this, the operative word is ‘expression.’ How then can a cooperative’s decision-making infrastructure function to consistently enable a positive outcome? Through selfless dedication to its purpose. In Ampled’s case the purpose is its commitment to serving the needs and wellbeing of musicians and music. The creation of music is inextricably linked with community and the process of working as a collective unit; the cooperative model seems like a natural fit!
Interview with Brian Chase
by Austin
We’ve recently seen a pattern of organizing and collectivism in both music and tech. Some examples are Secretly Group Union, Union of Musicians & Allied Workers, and the Music Workers Alliance. What are your thoughts about this growing trend of collective action?
Well —— if it’s not too embarrassing to say —— I’ve never heard of any of those groups. Do they sell vinyl? :) If any of them have any kids around the age of five and want to do a play date in McGolrick park then give them my email. Being a parent during this pandemic has been on another level —— those with kids understand. Maybe my not having heard of these groups was because I was busy reading about dinosaurs and outer space :) I do like the idea of this trend and movement towards collective action!
You’re involved in the NYC avant-garde music scene. Now that we’re all increasingly reliant on the platform economy, how do you think we can create authentic community spaces online?
The word that jumps out at me in this question is ‘authentic.’ The authenticity that really resonates with me comes from the stage, the show, the record store, the album, the practice room, etc —— RESONATES, I said —— is a vibration on many levels. This contrasts with online platforms, social media in particular, which perhaps present a slice of ‘reality’: oftentimes a feedback loop of reinforced habits and recycled myth. The exchange and dialogue between performer and audience, and among performers, is not the same among the physical and the virtual mediums. But this past year we didn’t have shows or personal interaction! And we kept up with each other on social media and released music on Bandcamp and played streaming concerts online. Good! We supported each other through the means which were our only options —— while feeling how vulnerable our livelihoods are without gigs. Ugh. The musicians and fans of the NYC avant-garde scene know what it is to be dedicated to artistic vision and seeing the world through that lens. That is all the authenticity and commitment that is required; presence online and the cultivation of community emerges as an extension of this integrity. A part of this integrity, too, is that one can’t really take social media too seriously!
Interview with Brian Chase
by Austin
What are you most encouraged by or excited about right now?
I’m excited about spending more time with people again, especially now being vaccinated and with the warmer weather. It’s been such an isolating time, and I’m someone that has typically relied on going to shows as my main social outlet. Hanging outside at a bar/venue for the first time in a year was a little awkward, but it’s starting to feel more normal-ish.
qi gong by Guy Blakeslee
What are your predictions for the year ahead?
My prediction for the next year is that —— from the perspective of music and nightlife —— we won’t take activity for granted. This year we had the rug pulled out from under us; the simple act of saying “Hi” to someone, or giving a hi-five or a hug at most was gone. It felt so good to start being able to do those simple things again! All of the activities we do and share together are such precious gifts; I have a renewed and deeper and fonder appreciation for that now. Considering all that went down politically and socially —— and with the world and this country being in such major flux —— circumstances were such that the primary soundtrack ended up being the politics and pandemic itself. The ‘60s had Hendrix and we had…partisan news stations and algorithmically determined social media feeds? Oy. Now that infrastructure is getting back on its feet and some semblance of stability is returning, the stage is being reset. Watch out!
Why Owning Shit Matters!
by:
Weston
Ampled is COOPERATIVELY OWNED by its artists and workers. For us, this ownership means everything! For the uninitiated, well…let me see if I can put it in context.
TL;DR: Owners get paid and, more importantly, owners have creative control.
First, a brief history in music ownership
A long while back, we as a society agreed that the person who composes (and more recently, records) music should be the one who gets to profit from it. Premised on the notion of property ownership, copyright law is an attempt to write down a set of rules for who owns and who gets to profit from creative works and for a long time, it’s been the lifeblood of the music industry.
For those unfamiliar, it’s basically what it sounds like, only the composer has the ‘right’ to ‘copy’ their works. What most don’t realize is that it doesn’t stop there, a copyright also grants an exclusive right to distribute and perform those copies. When recorded music became a thing, it was updated to grant the right to digitally transmit your work as well.
What the music industry learned first with publishing and later with recorded masters, is that copyright ownership is everything; it’s not just making copies, it includes the exclusive right* to distribute/perform this stuff for money! Contracts from the industry became (and kinda still are) if you give us some of your copyright, we’ll sell your songs for you.
Musicians have wised up considerably to this racket and more than ever own their own shit.
*another way of saying exclusive right is monopoly right, copyright actually gives you a monopoly right on your created works
Why Owning Shit Matters!
by Weston
Unless you’re top of the charts, a music publisher’s typical contract is a 50/50 split. This is why PROs (performing rights organizations) are only paying out half of the money your composition generates to you. The other half goes to your publishing company. Not saying that publishing companies can’t or don’t earn that 50%, as they are often responsible for placing or ‘exploiting’ your songs (to use their dirty language).
Instead of negotiating to own more of a publishing share with the popular publishing houses, now musicians increasingly just are their own publisher. If songwriting is your thing and you’ve got a bit of a catalogue built up, file some paperwork and bada-bing-bada-boom you are a legit publisher. Typical publishing agreements split revenue 50/50. Owning your own publishing company gets you 100% of your publishing revenue.
Artists who own their publishing keep way more of the earned revenue from those compositions and more importantly, have no limitations around what they can do with them.
Record labels often put up the money for an artist to record an album. What labels get out of this is ownership of that master recording (not the composition, just that specific recording of the composition).
Look at what’s happening with Taylor Swift and that Scooter Braun asshole. Taylor Swift isn’t re-recording all of her back catalogue for nothing. She’s doing so because she can’t and doesn’t control the exclusive right to distribute her own songs.
You’ve probably been cornered pre-show in some tiny green room by a wise old has-been with horror stories about the need to own your publishing or own your masters. This is great advice. Take it. Also, realize that this wisdom is from an old has-been, so maybe put out those feelers for some younger, fresher opinions as well.
Musicians don’t just own their masters these days, you own the recording studio. Well, less an actual studio and more like a macbook air hanging off the side of your coffee table. Still it beats some label fronting the cash for studio time that you’ll be lucky to recoup from all your earnings over the next decade.
Why Owning Shit Matters!
by Weston
Gaining partial or total ownership of the right to copy and distribute your music used to be how the industry made money. Increasingly, the real money is in owning the channels of distribution, with ad revenue and subscriptions increasingly funding the music we hear.
The music industry took note of this shift in musicians owning and retaining more of their ownership rights. Around this time platforms were completely killing off the old music distribution models, anyways, replacing them with downloads and streaming. Among the biggest players now in the music industry are YouTube and Spotify, and they are operating on a whole new business model. A model where online platforms rule the day, where music is content, not art.
Instead of trying to compete, the frail old music industry simply diversified their stock portfolios to include these new tech companies. So, the old music industry players still have a seat at the table, owning partial stake in these tech companies.
What we’re left with is a venture capital and music industry-backed winner-take-all industry where, essentially, you either own your distribution chain and get paid, or you merely use a distribution chain and get used.
So, why OWN Ampled?
Musicians already own more of the process and own their own music more than ever before. Especially in a world where you, the musician, are likely the one responsible for funding your recording, building your following, your own promotion and marketing, and performing these songs almost exclusively through online digital means. Getting this music into the ears of fans is more accessible than ever before. So why then, do musicians still earn just 10% of the pie?
Well, it certainly doesn’t help that old school music industry players and tech platforms are now both squeezing out quarterly profits on the backs of musicians. And despite all this talk of a new and transformative ‘Creator Economy’ approaching, so far big tech just sees the music we make as more content to run ads against or charge arbitrary monthly fees that correspond zero% to listening habits or market value.
Why Owning Shit Matters!
by Weston
Spotify essentially set their monthly price for end-users first. Once they see how much money that is total, then they determine what your streams are worth as an artist. YouTube doesn’t dare let anyone get a peek behind the scenes of their ad algorithms, which seems the least they can do after taking 30% of your sponsorship revenue.
These tech giants are the modern-day equivalent of the exploitative music industry of yesteryear (and to a non-trivial percentage are literally owned by the old music industry players, keen to invest rather than compete).
I don’t believe these tech companies are the enemy, just as I don’t believe the music industry to be the enemy. These institutions are tools for musicians to use when, how, and if they’d like to ‘exploit’ their works to make some cash (as sellout as that sounds, it’s quite literally every musician’s right). For these institutions to truly be for musicians and artists, there’s going to need to be a lot more transparency going on, and I just don’t see that happening without a change in ownership.
If musicians our means of communities, giant chunks
are to make it this day and age, we need to own distribution, own our relationships with our and stop letting so many varied interests take out of the value that we create.
What we at Ampled are collectively organizing, building and owning is the ability to make a living without tech giants or arcane institutions having a say; without those entities taking a cut of our profits; without their algorithms deciding who gets to listen to our music; without the constant meddling in relationships we have with listeners; without venture capitalists requiring the most lucrative exit strategy, not the path that’s best for artists.
Owning a platform gives you complete control of the creation and distribution of your music to your fans, indefinitely.