The following is an email I scored to my address book in April of 2007. Though the thoughts it contains are raw and are from a completely different space than we’re in today, I think it lays a foundation to what Sawce is really all about. Enjoy.
To all on the receiving end of this email. You’re receiving this message for no other reason than the fact that I was too lazy to blog and felt like having an audience. You might find this message irrelevant, you might not. Maybe you’ll hit Reply All, and we’ll carry on a conversation that everyone else can see, or maybe you’ll make it one on one. Maybe you’ll add a few extra names to the list, and they’ll get involved too, maybe you’ll just follow suit with a whole new topic, and maybe you’ll just ignore it completely.
Whatever the case, sorry if you see this as spam.
Its 11:15PM on a Monday night in April. I’m in the dark side of a kitchen lit room with the TV (which would likely look a blinking blue from a distance) on mute in the background: I didn’t want it to interrupt the song I have playing on loop beside me.
Music has always been an important part of my life growing up. I never really spoke much, and when it came to bonding with people that I really didn’t have much in common with, the room usually went stiff. But music softened things. It set moods, it played emotions, and it made things come alive, even if we never said a word at all. It was the vehicle that let my dad teach me all the things that he taught me during those Friday nights we spent laying on the couch. Its what kept me awake during high school physics class as the kids beside me did the homework that I felt I didn’t have to do, and its what kept me up until sunrise all those nights as a teenager, just long enough for me to learn a thing or two about technology, paint brushes, or grammar. Each event, time and place, tuned specifically to the song in key.
And that’s the thing about music. Its not so much about tuning it so that it sounds just right, because when it is right, its really about tuning you. Music transcends culture. It builds experience. And it carries us all together, because even though the song I have on loop means what it does to me, it means something completely different to you, but if we listened to it together, our differences would get set aside, and we’d come together, at least a little bit.
And that’s what its really all about, more or less. Because the bulk of our experiences with music get branded because of who we come across when we hear it. And the more brilliant the situation, the more vivid the experience, and the more beautiful the girl you happen to stumble across a particular song for the first time with, chances are it’ll mean a little bit more to you the next time you hear it. Chances are, it’ll be a little bit more likely to become one of the things that you’d love to join in on if it came around your way by concert one day.
But here’s the thing. Thanks to the Internet, record companies are complaining that they’re losing tons of money on record sales as people download music illegally.
So enter the fight, stage left, to try and save the day with all these crazy solutions to try to make digital music distribution an economically viable reality. They argue that if you can make songs cheap enough, people would rather pay to download “clean tracks” than scavenge for them off all the peer-to-peer networks that are apparently plagued with viruses and fake files.
Maybe they’re right. Maybe the tradeoff that I make each time I download a file does have a tangible cost that can be offset by some sort of more financially, but less, emotionally(?) expensive alternative.
But if I know myself, I don’t have much trouble finding the music I need for free, and never have, and that emotional expense of viruses and fake files is usually offset by enough people sharing real songs that I don’t come across them too frequently (at least when I download the same song in parallel to make sure at least one of them is decent stuff). And with peer-to-peer stuff coming more mainstream, more advanced, and more proliferated, I don’t see other people really having trouble doing the same.
And no matter how cheap the stuff is, chances are I wont buy it anyways, just because I don’t know what I’m getting into when I download a song for the first time. I go by the batch, of often a couple hundred songs at a time, and at that point, its not so cheap anymore. Music is about exploring new things, and new experiences, just as much as it is about bringing together old ones.
So if they’re trying to do cheap, why not just go all out in good faith and do it free. Or at least free enough to make it make sense. They spend lots on making sure the distribution is in place properly, and even more on marketing artists to make sure they go huge. But why not just let the music do all that stuff for you?
Music wants to be discovered. Music wants to be listened to. And Music wants to be free, at least to individuals.
So why not learn a lesson or two from open source. And this is where my official disclaimer sets in. I have no experience in the music industry, and my knowledge of open source is built upon a bunch of assumptions and experiences I’ve had going through licenses on a very informal basis.
Open source projects let people use the stuff for free on an individual basis. They let people modify it on their own, and even contribute to the base on a distributed and statistically sensible way. But when you try to sell it, usually additional clauses come into play, and free suddenly isn’t so free: its a special right reserved for someone on top.
So what’s the benefit? Users get taught to adopt the stuff and get comfortable with the project in question. It gets scrutinized on a global scale with a lot of the costs absorbed into the clouds, and though a little revenue is lost in individual sales, the savings gained in development, marketing and educating, as well as the rights to do special value added stuff on top of it all, makes it an economically viable business proposition.
Take SugarCRM for instance. I’m free to use it on my own servers. I’m free to modify it for my own purposes. And I’m free to get in touch and start contributing to the code base, report bugs, and strengthen security. But if I try to build a service business offering people hosted CRM applications, then it gets a bit more tricky.
So how does music relate? Music wants to be heard, and people use it on their own to build their own experiences. If you let them listen to it for free, they’ll start weaving it into their lives, and if its good, they’ll start telling their friends about it, and it’ll spread like wildfire. Sure, you might lose out on some record sales here or there, but you wont have to push hard to get the stuff out there in the first place. You don’t have to worry about marketing, because if its free, people will find ways to make it explode on their own (and if you can’t see how with all the stuff the Internet does, then go find out), especially because people often listen to music together. You don’t have to worry about distribution, because people will do it themselves. And what you get, as a good artist, is to impact people’s lives in way that’s a little more likely to have them love to join in on you if you came their way by concert one day.
There’s a reason why the Movie industry doesn’t cry quite as hard as the RIAA does when it comes to piracy. They made money long before VHS and DVD even existed, before the whole home movie thing. They always made money with theaters, so even if sales may be dropping a bit with pirated downloads, the industry isn’t in question. Because the box office is just as much about experience (taking a girl out for the first time, getting your first public sexual experience, or just hanging out with your friends) as it is about content, and though you can download content, you can’t download experience, and people will pay for that.
The RIAA, on the other hand, seems to have forgotten about their version of the box office completely, as well as the fact that if you let music do all the A&R and marketing crap for you, and all you do is reserve the right to hold concerts or just license out large scale experiences, the whole financial thing might start to change. This is especially the case if you really start to embrace the fact that its about experience, and that experience doesn’t always require a non-scalable physical artist to be at 10,000 places all at once, as long as you can do 10,000 live video feeds at a distributed concert across the country that can bring people at both ends together for the same track listing.
At least that’s how I’d do it.