Podcast: Talking with Helienne Lindvall Because Streaming is Still Broken

Neil Young pulls his music from Spotify to protest the content on Joe Rogan’s podcast, and Joni Mitchell and Crosby, Stills, and Nash follow suit. It’s a big story for a week, and some noise about “cancel culture” and Rogan himself lingers, but we’ve mostly moved on. Meanwhile, the economic model for music streaming is still broken. Songwriters make pennies for millions of streams, and the dynamics of the data-driven market are not quite conducive to the kind of experimentation and risk-taking that dominated the period when artists like Young and his contemporaries rose to fame. So, why don’t legacy artists who can command so much attention use that power to advocate for fair compensation for the next generation of artists?  I don’t know the answer, but the question prompted me to invite songwriter/columnist Helienne Lindvall to join me for this episode.

Helienne hosts “Sounds” on BBC, talking about the ways in which streaming has changed the craft of songwriting. 

Has the Moment Finally Arrived for Fairness to Music Performers?

Unlike the rest of the developed world, American radio broadcasters are unique in that they pay nothing in performers’ royalties when they play music on their stations. Although this has been true since radio began in the U.S., many Americans are surprised to learn that this is the case and, according to polling, believe it’s unfair. That’s because it is unfair.

Songwriters receive royalties for terrestrial radio play but not recording artists and their labels, which also excludes producers, engineers, and studio musicians. Almost since the day the National Association of Broadcasters (NAB) was formed in 1922, the station owners have successfully lobbied against a public performance right in sound recordings via broadcast by arguing that the promotional value radio play provides to the recording industry overwhelms the rationale for paying to license the music.

“But that was never a legitimate excuse,” said Congressman Ted Deutch in front of the Capitol yesterday afternoon when he introduced the American Music Fairness Act, co-sponsored by Congressman Darrell Issa. “The broadcasters have become experts in muddying the waters,” Deutch continued as a group of musicians in the background, including Dionne Warwick, Sam Moore, Ken Casey of the Dropkick Murphys, and Blake Morgan, all nodded in recognition that this has been a decades-long fight for basic fairness. As Rep. Issa noted in response to one reporter’s question, Congress will not be negotiating the terms to establish equity with the major broadcasters—this will be done under the auspices of the Copyright Office—but he emphasized that the longstanding rule of “not one penny” is a bad faith arrangement that needs to be made right.

Six major media conglomerates own more than 2,000 terrestrial radio stations in the United States, and the revenues from radio advertising totals in the hundreds of billions of dollars. And nobody is confused about the fact that without music to play, most of those stations would not have the audiences needed to attract those advertisers. If American radio stations ever did provide enough promotional value to justify not paying for public performances of the recordings—and the relationship between radio and record sales is both questionable and scattershot at best—that argument is even weaker in the 21st century market, when the prospect of selling copies or downloads is less likely than in prior decades.

At this point, while the pundits and the gurus keep spinning theories about “music discovery” (i.e. exposure) as an excuse to avoid paying creative people in many fields, the only clear observation we can make in this instance is that terrestrial radio is just one of several means by which we still listen to music. And the music is the ONLY reason we hear the advertisements that generate all the money in that industry. Surely, there can be no rationale for allowing entities like iHeartRadio, Cumulus, et al to keep paying nothing to the performers on whom they so profoundly depend.

Moreover, Rep. Issa explained that not only does America’s uniqueness in this regard deny royalties to both American and foreign artists in the American radio market, but it also denies royalties from foreign radio stations to American artists due to reciprocity. Because our radio stations don’t pay their artists, their radio stations don’t pay ours, which is rather extraordinary when we consider the amount of music the United States exports worldwide.

The AMFA is narrowly tailored to avoid imposing undue burdens on small, independent, and public radio stations through fixed, statutory rates for entities earning less than $1.5 million. For instance, a station earning $100,000 pays $10/year. Upon adoption of the bill, the larger entities will negotiate royalty arrangements with labels and other artist-representing stakeholders. But probably not without a fight by the broadcasters over passage of the bill itself.

The broadcasters have enjoyed a free ride for a very long time, and perhaps they will once again throw more money than the average musician ever earns at an effort to maintain the status quo. But on the other hand, maybe they’ll see the writing on the wall this time. Because at least when it comes to artists’ rights, many Members of Congress seem to have more finely tuned their bullshit detectors in recent years. And one upside of the of the fact that the broadcasters have successfully squashed the performers’ rights for so many years, is that every argument they can present, has already been made hundreds of times.

… no one would argue with the fact that the promotion which records receive from broadcast exposure boosts record sales and attendance at performers’ concerts. This promotion is more than adequate compensation for the broadcast performance. The undeniable truth is that many recording companies and artists would be forced out of business overnight if broadcasters stopped playing their records over the air.

That was in a letter submitted on behalf of the North Carolina Broadcasters to the Copyright Office in 1978. And what little purchase on reality the argument had then has long since eroded as a foothold in the contemporary market. Time to play fair and give the musicians a little cut of the revenue their work generates. Because without the music, nearly all the radio stations would be forced out of business overnight.


Photo by hurricanehank

Intense Accusations in Schneider Class Action

When one files an allegation of fraud in court, one must present evidence. No, I am not referring to that freak show of litigations about the 2020 election that have been tossed out by over fifty federal courts, including the Supreme Court. I’m talking about YouTube. As discussed in this July post, composer Maria Schneider leads a class action lawsuit against YouTube, alleging that the platform knowingly facilitates copyright infringement of the musical works belonging to the putative class.

At the heart of the Schneider complaint is the fact that YouTube makes its copyright management system Content ID available only to institutional rightsholders with huge catalogs, while leaving independent copyright owners to fend for themselves—i.e. one DMCA notice at a time with no automated detection of infringing files. As noted in that earlier post, Schneider’s complaint presents several arguments whereby YouTube could be found to have voided its DMCA safe harbor, including allegations of “red flag” knowledge of infringement. This suit is also occurring at the same time that Congress has been reviewing the DMCA; and the chronic allegation that platforms like YouTube play fast-and-loose with the knowledge standard will very likely be addressed in any proposed legislative changes.

In September, YouTube filed a counterclaim seeking dismissal on the grounds that Schneider’s co-plaintiff Pirate Monitor LTD used anonymized agents to “fabricate infringement claims by having its own agents upload material from its copyrighted works to YouTube.” The platform alleges that Pirate Monitor engaged in this practice in order “to obtain access to [its] copyright management systems.” In addition to its allegation of fraud, YouTube avers that Pirate Monitor’s actions are an example that justifies its policy of limiting access to Content ID because, it states, some parties cannot be trusted with such tools.

That is one lulu of an accusation, to which Pirate Monitor responded in a brief filed in November that YouTube provides no evidence in its counterclaim of any relationship between the anonymized uploaders of the files in question and Pirate Monitor. The response argues that YouTube’s counterclaims “rest solely on conclusory allegations,” that its assertions of fraud do not meet the evidentiary standard under the rules of civil procedure, and that YouTube lacks the standing to request injunctive relief for the alleged harm caused by the alleged fraud. More broadly, the response accuses YouTube of trying to change the subject, “to spin this case away from being about YouTube’s facilitation and inducement of copyright infringement, and make it instead about who can and cannot be ‘trusted’ to use Content ID.”

I am not about to assert any comments of a factual nature without facts in hand. We’ll see what evidence is, or is not, presented. But I will reiterate that the soul of Maria Schneider’s complaint expresses precisely what hundreds, or thousands, of independent creators contend with on a piracy-rich landscape like YouTube. As noted in the first post, this suit reprises several matters of unfinished business left in limbo after Viacom and YouTube settled their copyright infringement suit in 2014.

At issue then, as it remains today, is evidence suggesting (or even proving) that YouTube’s operators have knowingly attracted and retained highly lucrative market-share by walking the razor’s edge of its responsibilities under the DMCA. In that spirit, YouTube’s preliminary statement in its counterclaim is a cue for a spit-take if nothing else. “Since its founding in 2005,” the brief begins, “YouTube has gone far above and beyond its legal obligations to assist copyright holders in protecting their rights.”

That self-congratulatory assertion hardly squares with the record. When Google acquired YouTube for $1.65 billion, the platform had achieved category-killer status based on a policy of copyright infringement. And although YouTube developed Content ID as a semi-compromise with the corporate rightsholders, it has done nothing for the countless small and independent creators whose works are used and monetized without permission. That story doesn’t even satisfy the industry’s bombast about supporting entrepreneurial creators, let alone anyone’s definition of “going above and beyond.”