Earlier this week, Wired featured an article by David Byrne
outlining options for musicians regarding the management of their
intellectual property rights and strategies for distribution.
Traditionally, musicians would almost have to give up the former to
secure the latter. Now, of course, this is not necessary as it is
possible for musicians to self-produce, publicize, and distribute their
work. However, rather than simply offering up another celebration of
this turn of events and dancing on the (soon to be) graves of major
record labels, Byrne takes a more nuanced perspective, outlining the
relative costs and benefits of different strategies for musicians. He
takes particular note of how different approaches may make or more less
sense for different musicians. To put it simply, self-distribution and
letting fans set their own price may work for Radiohead, but probably not for the local garage band still looking to line up their first gig outside of friends' parties.
I think that much of what Byrne advises applies equally well to filmmakers, particularly his "6 distribution models,"
with some adjustment to account for differences in the rights regimes
for film and music (there's no film equivalent of publishing rights,
for example). As this article at The Workbook Project suggests, even his thoughts on touring have relevance for filmmakers.
Aside from the practical advice, what interests me about Byrne's article is his conclusion. At the end he writes:
No single model will work for everyone. There's room for all of us.
Some artists are the Coke and Pepsi of music, while others are the fine
wine ??? or the funky home-brewed moonshine. And that's fine. I like
Rihanna's "Umbrella" and Christina Aguilera's "Ain't No Other Man."
Sometimes a corporate soft drink is what you want ??? just not at the
expense of the other thing. In the recent past, it often seemed like
all or nothing, but maybe now we won't be forced to choose.
Ultimately, all these scenarios have to satisfy the same human
urges: What do we need music to do? How do we visit the land in our
head and the place in our heart that music takes us to? Can I get a
round-trip ticket?
Really, isn't that what we want to buy, sell, trade, or download?
As
the comments to the article indicate, it is possible to pick at the
particulars of Byrne's advice and his modeling of different options,
but to me his conclusion hits on the essential point: what the emerging
digital culture should allow is an expansion of options for artists,
not a contraction. The point shouldn't be to replace one monolithic
model with another, but to have a diversity of ways for artists to
create, distribute, and control their work.
There will always be films that need corporate backing to get made.
And, yes, there probably should be fewer of those films, but before
giving into the temptation to throw out all big budget spectacles, bear
in mind that this category isn't limited to artless dreck like,
apparently, The Golden Compass, but also includes The Lord of The Rings movies. While the two best films I've seen so far this year, Children of Men and The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford,
likely could have been made without major studio backing, they probably
would have suffered for not having the kind of freedom that corporate
money can buy under the right circumstances (and, again, Byrne's advice
to musicians is to think about different kinds of arrangements for
production and distribution depending on your needs and desires and
what will best enable you to connect with an audience).
On the other hand, with the availability of relatively affordable
digital media that enable filmmakers to get their films made and seen
without needing to "break in" to traditional production and
distribution channels, there are emerging categories of films that have
almost no need for major studio backing or involvement. As Francis Ford Coppola's and David Lynch's
recent efforts indicate, such options are not only the province of new
and unknown filmmakers. That established artists may choose
self-production and distribution likely troubles the reigning corporate
masters in both film and music far more than, say, me trying to make
movies on my own. And yet this is what the still emerging digital
culture promises. "Let a hundred flowers bloom," but for real, and without the underlying totalitarianism this time.
(BTW, I articulate similar views in this 2006 essay on PopMatters).
Originally posted on:
Short-Circuit Signs