In April
1967 I was introduced to the music of Nina Simone by a girlfriend who
insisted we buy concert tickets. The venue, Portsmouth’s Guildhall, was large
but sparsely populated despite the fact that Nina was by then well-established
in the USA and working through her third European tour. So, when she appeared
on stage, dressed glamorously as for a big occasion, I squirmed in
embarrassment at the rows of empty seats she had to face. She duly voiced her
disappointment at the turnout but, despite that, made it plain that an audience
is special, no matter its size, and that she was going to give us the best she
had. And so she did.
I was
reminded of this last Monday when I went along to a gig by another act from the
USA, the 4-piece Becca Stevens Band. The venue was much smaller than the
Guildhall but the audience was just as meagre. On this occasion, however, the
artists politely refrained from commenting on the fact and simply set about fulfilling
their side of the deal by delivering their act. The first couple of songs were
intriguing and beautifully performed but I didn’t really warm to the musicians
until they began to communicate with us in between their songs with some witty,
bantering exchanges. They told us stories of their tour, praised us for being
an appreciative audience, said nice things about our city, the venue and the
beer and even apologised for the fact that their gig coincided with a very
important football match. Oh – and they were so thrilled to be doing the next
number because it was a cover of a song by local band, The Smiths. We were all
won over: which, from the artists’ point of view, is quite crucial.
Musicians
like to sell records and live performances are an important part of that
process: they create a personal connection which makes it possible for them to convert
casual listeners into life-long fans. And fans, as the football entertainment
industry has proven, are an enduring source of income. The Becca Stevens Band,
unlike Nina Simone, works at a time when sales of records are hard won in the
face of copying, sharing and downloading so they need every sales technique
they can muster.
Internet
guru Jaron Lanier is currently arguing the case for reversing the general expectation
that everything on the web should be open and freely available. Recipients of
free internet stuff might balk at this idea but those, such as musicians, who
provide that stuff and don’t get paid for it, will probably side with Mr.
Lanier. Google’s business model illustrates the case: it takes the information
about ourselves that we give it and turns it into a saleable commodity. In
return it gives us free searches, calendars, email and so on but, since our
information is obviously of value, should we not be able to sell it to Google
and decide for ourselves what to buy with the proceeds?
I can see a future
for this turn-about in our relationship with the web. It could even be applied
to audiences and musicians. Suppose musicians were to pay us to attend their
gigs: we could then use the payments to buy their recordings (if we so choose)
and they, in return, would reap the benefit of having packed houses full of
well-disposed audiences (free drinks would also help in this respect). Having
paid out their own money they would, of course, be fully incentivised to put on
a good show and to make the most of the opportunity to create fans by building personal
rapport.
So musicians
would have bigger live audiences and the prospect of steady record sales;
audiences would be more likely to experience first-class performances, a bit of
banter and free drinks; and Google would be transformed into an honest business
at last.
You'll need your Wonderman trollies for this one, for I fear you are swimming against a very strong tide!
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