I just stumbled on a piece from Ted Gioia at the Atlantic, and the news is unsettling for music fans like me. Old songs now represent 70 percent of the U.S. music market, according
to the latest numbers from MRC Data, a music-analytics firm. And the news gets worse: The new-music market is actually
shrinking. All the growth in the market is coming from old songs.
The 200 most popular new tracks now regularly account for less than 5 percent of total streams.
That rate was twice as high just three years ago. The mix of songs
actually purchased by consumers is even more tilted toward older music.
The current list of most-downloaded tracks on iTunes is filled with the
names of bands from the previous century, such as Creedence Clearwater
Revival and The Police.
Never before in history have new tracks attained hit status while
generating so little cultural impact. In fact, the audience seems to be
embracing the hits of decades past instead. Success was always
short-lived in the music business, but now even new songs that become
bona fide hits can pass unnoticed by much of the population.
Some would like to believe that this trend is just a short-term blip, perhaps caused by the pandemic. But a series of unfortunate events are conspiring to marginalize new music.
The
leading area of investment in the music business is old songs.
Investment firms are getting into bidding wars to buy publishing
catalogs from aging rock and pop stars-- the song catalogs in
most demand are by musicians who are in their 70s or 80s (Bob Dylan,
Paul Simon, Bruce Springsteen) or already dead (David Bowie, James
Brown). Even major record labels are participating in the
rush to old music: Universal Music, Sony Music, Warner Music, and others
are buying up publishing catalogs and investing huge sums in old tunes.
In a previous time, that money would have been used to launch new
artists.
The best-selling physical format in music is the vinyl
LP, which is more than 70 years old. I’ve seen no signs that the record
labels are investing in a newer, better alternative—because, here too,
old is viewed as superior to new. In fact, record labels—once a source of innovation in consumer products—don’t spend any
money on research and development to revitalize their business,
although every other industry looks to innovation for growth and
consumer excitement. Record stores are caught up in the same
time warp. In an earlier era, they aggressively marketed new music, but
now they make more money from vinyl reissues and used LPs.
Radio
stations are contributing to the stagnation, putting fewer new songs
into their rotation, or—judging by the offerings on my satellite-radio
lineup—completely ignoring new music in favor of old hits.
When
a new song overcomes these obstacles and actually becomes a hit, the
risk of copyright lawsuits is greater than ever before. The risks have
increased enormously since the “Blurred Lines” jury decision of 2015,
and the result is that additional cash gets transferred from today’s
musicians to old (or deceased) artists. Adding to the
nightmare, dead musicians are now coming back to life in virtual
form—via holograms and “deepfake” music—making it all the harder for
young, living artists to compete in the marketplace.
As record labels lose interest in new music, emerging performers
desperately search for other ways to get exposure. They hope to place
their self-produced tracks on a curated streaming playlist, or license
their songs for use in advertising or the closing credits of a TV show.
Those options might generate some royalty income, but they do little to
build name recognition. Folks might hear a cool song on a commercial or TV show,
but the listener likely won't even know the name of the artist.
Music-industry bigwigs have plenty of excuses for their inability to
discover and adequately promote great new artists. The fear of copyright
lawsuits has made many in the industry deathly afraid of listening to
unsolicited demo recordings. Anyone mailing a demo to a label or producer will likely see it
return unopened.
Radio stations will play only songs that fit the dominant formulas,
which haven’t changed much in decades. The algorithms curating so much
of our new music are even worse. Music algorithms are designed to be feedback loops,
ensuring that the promoted new songs are virtually identical to your
favorite old songs. Anything that genuinely breaks the mold is excluded
from consideration almost as a rule.
Nevertheless, if music fans don’t find something new from a major record label or algorithm-driven
playlist, they will find it somewhere else. Songs can go viral nowadays
without the entertainment industry even noticing until it has already
happened. That will be how this story ends: not with the marginalization
of new music, but with something radical emerging from an unexpected
place.