Another Tuesday, another paper. I write about what outgoing General Manager Burr Beard did for WTJU; Jon Kiefer dissects the double meaning of Conviction; Cris Edwards visits UVA Drama’s production of the Glass Menagerie, and more.
The talk of the music world seems to be an article in the Sunday New York Times that describes how "lifestyle brands are becoming the new record labels." Corporations can easily write off as advertising expenses the losses they would’ve incurred if they were generous patrons of music. It seems to me that the important question that underpins the matter is a consideration that generations of music fans have harped on: When does that relationship between businesses and bands go so far that the band has "sold out"? And why don’t people seem to care anymore?
Of course, “selling out” can mean a lot of things. You can sell your song to be played in a car commercial. You can lend your likeness to a product. You can change your music so that it appeals to a broader audience in the hopes that you’ll make more money. Early on, Sam Cooke started singing R&B. Later, Sonic Youth signed to Geffen. All of Weezer’s output since the Green Album might be construed as some misguided attempt to sell out.
The article goes on to discuss a recording studio that Converse (the sneaker company) is building in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, where bands will be allowed to record for free, and how Kid Cudi, and members of the bands Best Coast and Vampire Weekend recorded a jingle for Converse sneakers.
While once these moves called into question a band’s credibility, no one these days seems to care. The Times quotes Chris Kaskie, the President of Pitchfork. “Young bands are growing up in a culture where there’s less off that discussion happening, less of those underlying issues being addressed,” he said. When Nike—which around the time of No Logo was still corporate enemy number one—releases a mixtape, nobody cries foul; they push download and enjoy the free music.
In our community, a couple of bands have "sold out" in a very conventional sense—that is, they engaged in a business relationship with a business other than a record label. We Are Star Children cut the cost of producing its recent EP by soliciting sponsorships from local businesses whose labels appear on the packaging. The Invisible Hand recorded a theme song that they didn’t write for a Bravo TV show.
In some of these instances it’s hard to hold it against bands that engage in working relationships with businesses so that they can support themselves while providing better, cheaper music for their audiences. But in others, it feels like these relationships go too far.
What do you think?
