There’s lots of other exciting things happening in the field of public interest authorship. Professor Pamela Samuelson and I have a post up on the Authors Alliance blog on the GSU case and there’s a House Judiciary Committee hearing on the topic of education and fair use happening today at noon (Pacific Time). These are important topics, directly on point for this blog’s theme, and I’ll get back to them shortly. But for right now, let’s talk more about the music business.
First, and I think this should be obvious, but music is as related to the public interest as any other kind of art of culture. Musicians can easily be “public interest authors” who prioritize creating a shared culture. So I’d argue the issue of how musicians get paid isn’t entirely off-topic. In any case, this is my blog so I don’t know why I’m trying to justify myself.
The other day I lamented that streaming dollars seem to have a tendency to float to the top, perhaps exacerbating the tendency for the most popular artists to capture the bulk of revenues in the music economy. There have been some extra developments in this space, particularly with Steve Albini giving an address in which he opines that the digital distribution of music has been a tremendously positive thing for musicians and consumers. It’s heartening to see a take on digital distribution that isn’t doom-and-gloom (and I agree with many of the particulars of his points, particularly regarding the orphan works problem.) While I’m inclined to also be thrilled at the sheer availability of music that would be rotting unheard (or unmade!) in the absence of the internet, I don’t think this observation makes the mechanics of streaming royalties irrelevant. Let’s be thrilled with what the internet has made possible for the distribution of knowledge and culture, and let’s also care about the mechanics of how these things work.
Now, it feels to me (more on this forthcoming) that there is a large group of commentators whose critique of the knowledge/culture economy is directed toward the difficulties of making a simple living. I think we can debate whether “the Progress of Science” is better served by windfalls granted to a small handful of apparent lottery winners, or by livable incomes earned by a professional class of creators. But let’s go ahead and do the more human thing and favor the less exploitative option. Let’s assume that steady incomes trump shockingly large windfalls. Let’s also assume that what Taylor Swift considers a pittance (i.e., $500,000–$2,000,000 per streaming service per year) is actually a windfall. Given that the median household income in the United States in 2012 was ~$51,371 (PDF), I think this is fair.
Reading one idea on how streaming royalties could better foster payments to nonsuperstars (i.e., by apportioning royalties according to subscribers rather than to spins), I came up with my own idea.
Decreasing marginal royalty rates.
Sharply increase the royalties for the first however many spins, and let them drop off with increasing numbers.
Aside from my unamerican tendency to be skeptical of windfalls, what’s wrong with this plan?