This article originally appeared in Total Guitar magazine issue 229. Reproduced by permission. Words: Joe Bennett. Illustration: Andy Watt. Click the image to download a pdf.
There are very few jobs where you promise to give away half your wages before you get to work, but this is what happens when two or more people decide to write a song together. And they do it with good reason; did you know that almost half the number of chart-topping hits in the USA since 1955 were written by more than one person? But if collaboration is clearly an effective way of writing a song, how is it done? How do two brains work together to produce something truly great?
I was interviewed recently for the Danish broadsheet newspaper Weekendavisen, which ran a feature on musical plagiarism, referencing Robin Thicke’s Blurred Lines. The text below is a (partly Google-powered) translation from Danish. For any native Danish speakers reading this, the original will probably make more sense – download here: Weekendavisen article 24 October 2014.
Slørede grænser (Blurred Boundaries)
[translated from Danish. Written by Anders Boas. Reproduced in translation by kind permission of Weekendavisen.]
The same way that a house is made of bricks, wood and nails, a piece of music is build of pitches, harmonies and rhythms. But the same way that very few people see each brick in a house, it is a minority that hear the individual notes when listening to the latest hit.
I walked out of a gig last week. The bands were well-rehearsed and the front of house engineers were doing a good job. The venue was great and I was amongst friends, colleagues and students. But I walked out because I couldn’t stand the physical pain of being an audience member in that room any longer.
The gig in question was a showcase of songwriting talent (of which, say it ourselves, there is quite a lot at the University). For most of the performers, it was the first time these particular songs had been played in public. New lyrics, new melodies, new arrangements and new ideas for an audience to experience – and for the performers to reflect on and refine. Creativity in action. Exciting stuff.
Except that it wasn’t. There was no opportunity to experience the lovingly crafted lyric metaphors, exquisite keyboard melodies, subtle drum grooves and carefully programmed laptop soundscapes that the bands had worked so hard on in their writing and rehearsal sessions. Because a Fender guitar amp was one metre out of place.
ABSTRACT: Although America’s south has long been associated with political conservatism and intolerance (e.g. W. J. Cash’s The Mind of the South, 1941), it was only in the 1960s that country music began overtly to express such ideas, provoked by the counter culture’s stance on the war in Vietnam. The appearance at that time of songs defending the military action and extolling patriotism served to reinforce long-held beliefs that both country music and the southern states from which it emerged were reactionary and chauvinistic, strengthening ideas that the south was a world apart.
¿Dónde está: The Creative Role of Alfred Benge in the Music of Robert Wyatt
ABSTRACT: To many journalists, ‘Alfie’ is simply the woman who picks them up from the station when they come to interview her husband—or, at most, the woman who inspired Sea Song. My paper will aim to document Benge’s multi-faceted role, which may be far more active than mere muse. I will examine her role in the studio (drawing on interviews with Wyatt and Benge themselves, as well as with several other musicians and the engineer Jamie Johnson). This paper will discuss Benge’s pivotal role in securing deals (with Virgin, Rough Trade, Hannibal/Ryko and Domino) as Wyatt’s de facto business manager, and her contribution to the visual presentation of his work (she has designed the cover of every album since 1974’s Rock Bottom). Her creative contribution is evident in the work itself; since 1991’s Dondestan, Benge has written lyrics for a number of the songs that appear under her husband’s name. What is the power dynamic that governs their relationship, both professional and personal? Is the critics’ relative neglect of Benge’s contribution due to sexism, or are there other issues at play? To what extent should her album cover be seen as part of Wyatt’s—or Wyatt and Benge’s—artistic output (Machin, 2010)? Finally, what is the relationship between writing, singing and authorship, particularly in relation to the cover versions Wyatt himself records, and the increasing number of other artists who, in turn, cover his songs (Solis, 2010)?
Collaborative Musical Production and Identity: The Case of Milton Nascimento and the Clube da Esquina
Holly Holmes, University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, USA
The Clube da Esquina [Corner Club] is a collective of popular musicians and lyricists led by Brazilian performer-composer Milton Nascimento that first found success in the early 1970s. Nascimento has released more than 30 albums and continues to tour extensively throughout Brazil and the world, but to hear his music of the 1970s as that of the solidification of an audacious solo career—while perhaps accurate in commercial terms—is a misunderstanding of how the music was created and produced. This work seeks to explore the unique nature of collaboration employed by the members of the Clube da Esquina that led to them being understood as not only a musical collective, but a distinct “sound” or approach to MPB (música popular brasileira, or Brazilian popular music). In exploring the nature of collaboration, this research also explores its limits. Among the group’s groundbreaking achievements was the flexible sharing of performing roles—in which a single musician might perform piano, bass, drums, percussion, lead guitar, or lead vocal depending on the needs of the track—and lyrical duties within the collective. Though the Clube da Esquina is defined by these negotiations of artistic, commercial, and aesthetic production, their trajectory was also profoundly shaped by limits, such as divergent goals and critical reception.
At the root of copyright’s legislative reach, and practical effects, is the matter of ‘copying’ itself – often referring to what may legitimately (morally or legally) be done with an apparently completed piece. Yet making music, and acquiring the skills to do so, is shot through with acts of copying, from straightforwardly learning a basic riff to the network of socially inflected influences in composition and multifarious technological means of manipulation, particularly in popular music, where criteria for entry to the field are relatively lightly codified. Likewise, as well disrupting longstanding distribution methods, digital technology has blurred the relationship between production, consumption and the ‘finished product’.
Musicians are central to an industry rhetoric in support of copyright protection that often relies upon conceptions of discrete works established in a pre-digital era. This paper explores popular musical practices themselves in the face of a rapidly evolving palette of creative possibilities. How do musicians regard digital techniques—like sampling—and their outputs against other long established forms of copying? At what point do they consider the implications of copyright for their practice?
This paper scrutinizes the role of copyright in the commercial decision-making of Popular Music creators. UK copyright law confers an exclusive ‘basket of rights’ on musical creators. Theoretically at least, this privileges creators as the key decision makers in copyright transactions. However, scholars have questioned whether most creators wield meaningful influence in these negotiations. Instead, they have argued that creators find themselves in extremely weak bargaining positions largely due to the ‘take it or leave it’ terms offered by commercial investors.
Perhaps as a consequence of these critiques, the nuance in the ‘lived experience’ of creators’ commercial decisions has been largely overlooked in academic research. Drawing on data gathered from in-depth interviews with contemporary creators and investors, this paper probes the complex interplay between these key stakeholders.
Richard begins with a discussion of a personal experience of seeing Mona Lisa recently at The Louvre, and uses this as a springboard to reflect on the difficulty in separating a work from its mythology. He then discusses the ‘Text’ and the ‘Context’ with reference to Tagg.
Leonard Bernstein’s view of Elvis is cited – he described the latter as ‘the greatest cultural force in the twentieth century’ and reflected on his influence on musical grammar. This leads the paper to a discussion of craft and art, and the relationship between creative constraints and an ideas-driven agenda. Such constraints, Richard suggests, can include technically poor musical skills (Sleaford Mods and Ian Curtis are cited as examples), and with these constraints some songwriters can thrive if they have an ‘ideas-driven agenda’.
Dynamic Popular Music – The First Stages of a New Art Form
Keith Hennigan, Trinity College Dublin
Keith begins with an entertainingly ‘sci-fi’ way of looking at musical creativity – that is, speculating about the opportunity to make different choices at various stages in the composition’s development (and in its playback timeline). Dynamic Music is categorised (after Collins) as ‘Interactive’ (where the music changes in response to the user) and ‘Adaptive’ (where the user interacts with an additional element that in turn affects the music). Keith adds ‘Generative’ to the taxonomy in order to include music that changes due to internal systems [JB note – he comments that he was prevented for tech reasons from doing a live iPhone demo but I infer he was going to show us something like this – http://www.generativemusic.com/].
I’m en route to the UK & Ireland IASPM conference in Cork. I was at the International one in Spain last year – the branch and International IASPM conferences leapfrog each other every other year, so for 2014 we’re back in our respective countries. I’ve submitted an abstract for the 2015 conference in Sao Paulo, Brazil (about chord loops in the Eurovision Song Contest – regular readers will know this is an interest). Waiting to hear if it gets through peer review.
So here’s my abstract for the forthcoming conference. This is part of a panel about similar themes — other presenters are Holly Holmes (Chester), Dan McKinna (BIMM) and Marcus O’Dair (Middlesex).
As always I’ll live-blog from the conference where possible.
Where is creativity? Locating intellectual property in collaborative songwriting and production processes
(Joe Bennett, Bath Spa University)
Songs lie at the centre of popular music’s Intellectual Property framework. They represent the starting point for the industry’s two most important creative products: the live performance or the recorded audio artefact. In the early 20th century, US and European copyright conventions were established whereby two separate objects could be ‘owned’: the song and the sound recording, the latter being a derivative work of the former. This state of affairs, where ‘song’ and ‘track’ are separate copyrights, remains at the industry’s administrative core, and has led to awareness among creators of the economic benefits of ‘keeping a slice of the publishing’.
However, in real-world songwriting and production situations it is not always easy to ascertain who contributed to ‘writing the song’ and who acted as an arranger, performer or producer. Inferring creative contributions from the audio artefact itself is fraught with methodological challenges; from a listener’s point of view, there is no experiential distinction between song and track. Drawing on the theoretical work of Moore, McIntyre and Csikszentmihalyi2, together with interviews with professional songwriters and the author’s own experience as a songwriter and expert witness forensic musicologist, this paper argues that the artificial administrative distinction between ‘song’ and ‘track’ is simultaneously a constraint upon creators and a silent driver of creative practice itself.
2 Allan F Moore, Song Means : Analysing and Interpreting Recorded Popular Song (Ashgate, 2012); Phillip McIntyre, “The Domain of Songwriters: Towards Defining the Term ‘Song,’” Perfect Beat: The Pacific Journal of Research into Contemporary Music and Popular Culture 5, no. 3 (2001): 100–111; Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi, “Society, Culture, and Person: A Systems View of Creativity,” in The Nature of Creativity : Contemporary Psychological Perspectives, ed. Robert Sternberg (Cambridge University Press, 1988), 325– 339.
[this article originally appeared in The Conversation, August 2014. Words: Joe Bennett.]
The top selling music album in the USA is currently Guardians Of The Galaxy: Awesome Mix Volume 1 – and has been for three weeks. Those who have seen the film will know that the track listing is based on a fictional mixtape made by main character Peter Quill’s dying mother, and given to him when he was a boy (shortly before his abduction by cannibal outlaw pirate aliens). Mrs Quill’s music tastes consisted mostly of classic pop from the 1970s, and the songs play an important part in the story.
Back in the real world of 2014 pop music, cross-media promotion clearly gives the album an advantage over other top spot contenders such as Now 51, The Gaslight Anthem and 5 Seconds of Summer. Even so, people won’t buy music unless it’s good; clearly, thousands of 21st century moviegoers have realised that four decades ago a lot of mainstream pop music was, well, awesome.
The “dadrock” era of the late 60s and early 70s casts a very long shadow over popular music’s cultural history, and it’s difficult to deny that some of these recordings have stood the test of time.
In this period rock and pop music listening was, famously, the primary leisure activity (along with sex and drugs) of the postwar baby-boomers. If you were born in the spring of 1955 you would have been 17 when Bowie released The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars. Popular music was the ideal cheap mass-distribution retail recreation product. Unlike movies, where (pre-VHS or DVD) you had to pay every time, a single vinyl purchase would give you an infinite number of listens to your favourite song. So vinyl sales increased.
Because people were buying so much music in the ‘70s, this allowed artists and songwriters to take artistic and commercial risks. Listen to the ridiculous “ooga-chaka” intro and verse in Hooked on a Feeling – 12 bars of completely unaccompanied vocals. Or immerse yourself in the epic back story to Bowie’s “Moonage Daydream” and follow Ziggy Stardust’s ascendancy from quasi-religious alien to rock star. Would either of these be likely contenders for the top ten singles chart of 2014?
But all this creative freedom was constrained by technology. The early 70s saw the transition from 4-track, through 8-track, and eventually up to 16-track recording, so artists could not overdub instruments indefinitely. Synthesisers could only play one note at a time. Digital sampling had not yet been invented, the earliest sequencers could play only a few notes, and drum machines were limited to preset rhythms. So almost every part of the arrangement was played live by humans in real time.
This is important because it shows how different playing music in a band is to editing music on a screen. In a 1970s studio, if a musician made a mistake there were only two options – re-record the part, or leave it in. And studio time was expensive, so everyone had an incentive to get it right. These conditions drove strong musicianship, intensive rehearsal and (thanks to the large industry markup on retail vinyl) big rewards for those songwriters, vocalists, producers and instrumentalists who could produce great sounds within these constraints.
When a human musician is playing an instrumental part, he or she is responding, moment to moment, to the rest of the song arrangement. In the first four bars of The Five Stairsteps’ O-o-h Child, we can hear Dennis Burke’s soulful drum groove react to every note in the trumpet melody, pushing and pulling the timing and dynamics to fit perfectly into the arrangement, as his brother James holds the descending guitar chord in bar four until the exact point when the brass section decays. To listen to this recording is to experience six musicians – independently, simultaneously and together – drawing us into their soundworld for every moment of three minutes and 17 seconds.
These days it’s possible to program this level of detail into a sample-based computer workstation, but the result is usually more perfect, consistent and accurate than humans can manage. We hear the technical inaccuracies of 1970s musicians as performance subtleties, constantly reminding us of the presence of a real person at the other end of the microphone. This communicates the humanity of the band to the listener.
But we shouldn’t be luddites, nor should we rose-tint the 70s. Objectively, pop music sounds better now than ever, in the same way that 2014 movies look better than 1970s movies. We have higher fidelity, more control of the mix, an effectively infinite palette of synthesised and sampled sounds, and more accurate vocals through comping and auto-tune.
Today, 10cc would not need to record 624 voices for three weeks with a 12-foot-long 2-inch tape loop stretched around the studio just to make some ethereal backing chords. And yet here we are in 2014, watching Hollywood’s finest CGI-powered contemporary sci-fi while listening to a 40-year-old vocal recording.
Creativity thrives when given a problem to solve, and the constraints of 70s music technology forced musicians to exercise all their artistic communication skills. As Igor Stravinsky said in 1942, “the more constraints one imposes, the more one frees one’s self of the chains that shackle the spirit”. Technological limitations collided with consumer demand to provide a golden age of creativity in popular music. Mumrock will never die.
I appeared on Voice Of Russia radio this week (the Brendan Cole show), talking about the Stairway to Heaven/Taurus allegations of plagiarism. It was a long and wide-ranging panel discussion, also covering Oasis, Deep Purple, Coldplay, Gershwin and others. The panelists were:
Joe Bennett, dean of the School of Music and the Performing Arts at Bath Spa University and head of the annual UK Songwriting Festival.
Below are some quotations from the full 30-minute discussion. The podcast can be downloaded here (28MB) or press play below to hear it in your browser.
JB: “The whole issue basically hinges around a four-bar piece of music played using a descending minor chord pattern…
“Yes, I believe he [Jimmy Page] copied it. […] It’s a riff he had access to, it’s a riff he heard recently and it’s not the kind of thing that would be terribly similar through coincidence. The issue is whether the thing being copied was in fact owned by Randy California in the first place. Can you copyright a minor descending chromatically in half bars?”
AM: “Actually, I’m not sure that I completely agree with the way Joe has characterised the question here because I think it’s pretty clear that any musical work, any literal work which it’s a fairly low threshold of originality does belong as a matter of copyright to whoever created it. If it is entirely commonplace and standard and gone before then there’s nothing knew and original. But once you hit that low threshold you’re the copyright owner in that work…
“And then the two questions become – one is, was there as a matter of fact copying? From what we know of the evidence in this case is suggestive of the fact that there could have been copying or maybe subconscious copying – a concept that was recognised in the George Harrison ‘My Sweet Lord’ case where it was found that Harrison didn’t know that he was copying but nonetheless he was subconsciously…
“So let’s assume that Randy California gets them on that, and then the question is – is it a substantial copy? And that’s the legal test – is there a substantial reproduction here? And then you start getting into quality questions about what has been taken, what has been saved and what’s been reproduced.
“This is actually a very difficult question… I think the original could well be owned by Randy California notwithstanding that is a descending minor chord pattern because it’s the particular minor chord pattern in which his copyright subsists. Has that substantially been taken by somebody else?”
CF: “With the Led Zeppelin example, to me it sounds way too similar to be regarded as just gaining inspiration. The Randy California version actually sounds like a Led Zeppelin song played wrong and I know it’s Jimmy Page that’s supposed to have copied it – I think the line should be drawn where getting inspiration is a theme or a feeling, but when you actually take the riff of the song I think that should be regarded as plagiarism.”
JS: “The only people that have really been open about it [plagiarism] is someone like Noel Gallagher – he’s always been like ‘oh I like that’, ‘I love that’… And he got nailed for it for a song which was left off their second album, which was very similar to ‘Uptight’ by Stevie Wonder. It was originally included on ‘What’s The Story Morning Glory’ and had to be taken out…”
“…There are not a lot of musicians who do it. It’s incredibly common for musicians to be accused it [plagiarism].
“You look at any Amazon review of an album and someone will say – ‘I can’t believe that they get away with this track, it must be obvious to anyone with ears that this is a complete rip-off!’ Everyone thinks they hear echoes of another track… And a lot of the time musicians hear that.”
“A few years ago Joe Satriani – the rock guitarist, had sued Coldplay because he claimed that they had taken a little snippet of melody from one of his endless self-indulgent guitar noodles. You listen to it and really it was like ‘mate, you’re dreaming.’
“This is a man who like a lot of musicians has a very large ego and believes he doesn’t get the credit he deserves. He sees a band like Coldplay who get a certain amount of critical acclaim, although not everywhere, But Satriani obviously looked at that and thought – ‘I see my influence everywhere, they’re all ripping me off!’ It’s amore in his head that reality.”
“In regards to Led Zeppelin doing this – if hadn’t been Jimmy Page I might have been prepared to say – well yeah, it’s just a minor chord pattern. It’s not an uncommon pattern of chords – the descending pattern of chords, and even the fingerpicking – the sort of 1-2-3-4 is hardly uncommon in the folk tradition. The fact is, Jimmy Page has form – a lot of form, when it comes appropriating other people’s work. Now whether that would count in the court of law is highly debatable, no doubt.”
JB: “Well coincidences can take place and in the case of the Joe Satriani track I think that idea starting on a minor ninth chord with the melody and then over the C chord – that was the melodic fragment he was picking up on. My personal view is that it is not beyond the realm of coincidence that two composers separately could come up with what is a relatively simple harmonic and melodic idea over two phrases.
“The challenge with this kind of issue, and particularly the Randy California issue, is that everybody hears music subjectively.”
“When a listener hears a piece of music they’re listening to quite a lot of information going into their brain, not just the thing musicologists write about typically – melody, harmonic context, i.e. the underlying chords and that which could be notated, but they’re also hearing the production, they’re hearing the instrumentation.
“So for example, had I played you the Randy California track using a brass band arrangement, it would be technically the same composition and the same piece of intellectual property in terms of music publishing, but it would sound completely different because it would be played by a brass band.. So, the reason that a lot of people hear similarities can be influenced by something as simple as instrumentation, and because I’m sitting here with an acoustic guitar and have played both examples on the same acoustic guitar back to back, that rather enhances their similarity as composition in terms of listener perception.”
CF: “The Beatles in particular came up with very-very original songs for their time and had a very unique sound. While they might borrow ideas and get influence from rock and roll and other stuff that was around at that time, they definitely put their own stamp on it. I don’t think that you could regard what they did as plagiarising, but it was taking influence and producing original music.”
JB: “A lot of my academic research is investigating the psychology of the creative process – exactly how do people come up with melodies? There’s a lot of romantic mystery attached to it in the mainstream media and of course songwriters maybe have a bit of a vested interest in mythologizing the process in that way.”
“Every creator of music has heard previous music and is creating new material in that context. So when I interview songwriters they tell me that it happens all the time that they accidently, inadvertently or even deliberately compose fragments for their own song that they’ve taken from other songs… But normally that’s avoidance of plagiarism – a normal part of the creative process. You just go – oh that sounds a bit similar, I’ll tweak it until it doesn’t.”
AM: “The issue that we come across again and again is the dichotomy between an idea and the form of expression of an idea… And you see that in all forms of copyright works, it’s not just music.
“But at what point is what has been taken – the inspiration, as against down at a level where it’s the particular way in which that idea is expressed. It’s a real problem for the courts to grapple with any particular case and therefore it’s a real problem for artists and music companies when they’re looking at issues like this…”
“I think the answer ‘I wasn’t aware’ is probably not a defence… A court can find that you were copying and reproducing and that’s the test – were you as a matter of fact copying without intending to, maybe even without realising?
“The answer seems to be yes you can. You’ve got to have pretty compelling evidence to show that that particular track was around so much and you’d heard it so often that it was somewhere there in the back of your mind that you’d be regurgitating it without even realising…”
JS: “When you combine a musical pattern and also a lyric which quite often Led Zeppelin have done then that’s when you haven’t really got too much of an argument. Again it was something that Noel Gallagher has done several times – the song ‘Whatever’ goes ‘I’m free to do whatever I want’ and Neil Innes of the Bonzo Dog Doo-Dah Band said that he [Neil] basically stole that from ‘I’m free to be an idiot’. As far as I know Neil Innes now has a credit on that one, along with the other ones that Noel Gallagher has given credits away to. If Neil Gallagher was going to steal the melody, he might have gotten away with it, but to actually steal the first two words? Then you’re in trouble.”
CF: “Most times when you come up with a song that you actually want to borrow a part of then you approach their publisher and ask permission to do so. I’ve done that before in bands that I’ve been in – we did a cover of Mr Sandman which is obviously a very old classic song. We approached the publishers and they approached the writers and they gave us permission to use it.”
“…We basically did a cover of the entire song but did it in a very different way to the original. The original is all very happy-clappy and we were doing a darker version of it. So we sent them a recording and they wrote back and said – yeah, you’ve got permission to use it… And they would get a percentage of royalties from it.”
AM: “It’s an expensive thing to do as a claimant and it’s an expensive thing to defend as a defendant. And I hate to say it, being a lawyer, but it is one of the areas where typically the people who really succeed are the lawyers and therefore it lends itself to early resolution.”
JB: “It’s all in the ear of the listener isn’t it? It’s dependent on the way people receive it – to some people things will sound very similar, to other people not.”
Today I’ve been at the University of Bristol with scholars from the Severn Pop Network. We were discussing Carl Wilson’s book Celine Dion’s Let’s Talk About Love: A Journey To The End of Taste. It’s an interesting read, using CD’s work, biography and persona to drive a discussion of what we perceive as ‘good’ and ‘bad’ music and why, and how this contrasts with demographic and literal popularity of a pop product. I personally find Wilson’s lack of musicological comment to be slightly annoying (he makes almost no reference at all to the musical content of the works, or the works of the other artists he uses for contrast – for example, Elliott Smith). Wilson’s own musical prejudices (as he very occasionally admits) are obvious in the book, and he never attempts to quantify his reasons for disliking Dion’s work. He does, however, get into a fascinating discussion of Dion’s Québécois cultural background and the way the French-Canadian music industry’s economic evolution in the last 20-30 years has contributed to its content. I found it to be a very entertaining book, and not terribly academic, apart from the allusions to Bourdieu’s concept of cultural capital in chapter 8. I just get irritated when people talk about music without mentioning the music…
Here’s a playlist of some of the music cited (and implicitly cited) in the book.
Here’s a few relevant citations, and a video from Steve Almond providing his own take on the discussion of taste and fandom.
Bourdieu, Pierre. “Cultural Reproduction and Social Reproduction.” In Knowledge, Education, and Cultural Change: Papers in the Sociology of Education, edited by Richard K. Brown, 71–84. London: Tavistock, 1973.
Frith, Simon. Performing Rites: On the Value of Popular Music, 1996.
Salganik, Matthew J., Peter Sheridan Dodds, and Duncan J. Watts. “Experimental Study of Inequality and Unpredictability in an Artificial Cultural Market.” Science 311, no. 5762 (2006): 854–56.
Washburne, Christopher, and Maiken Derno, eds. Bad Music: The Music We Love to Hate. New York: Routledge, 2004.
[This is a live blog – hit ‘refresh’ in your browser at the end of each song throughout the evening and the most recent one will appear at the top. As in 2013, each song will be scored as we hear it. Geeky musicological commentary will be added wherever possible. As always I’m going to try to pick a winner.]
So, here are my predictions. I am typing this at 22:04 on the night (before voting begins), and will, as in previous years, leave my (inevitably wrong!) top 3 here for posterity, and afterwards will post the actual winners below these. If you’re reading this you can stop hitting refresh now. I got two of the top 3 right in 2012 and all my top 3 were in the top 5 last year, and got the winners right for both years. I’d like to see the UK do well of course but I can’t honestly say we’ve got the best song. For me, it’s between The Bearded Austrian Lady, Swedish Apple-Z Chordsmiths and The Dutch Cowboys, although the Danes’ Bieberisms are in with a chance too. I’m going to play safe and put the Swedes at the top. But #3 could be Austria or Denmark. What to do…? I’m going with Austria – the 007/beard combo swings it.
Sweden – Undo
The Netherlands – Calm After The Storm
Austria – Rise Like a Phoenix
I got the top 3 spot on for the first time!Admittedly mine were in a different order. The actual order was this:
Austria – Rise Like a Phoenix
The Netherlands – Calm After The Storm
Sweden – Undo
26: United Kingdom – Children of the Universe (Molly)
The loop is ii IV | I V | in F# major and the title hook is very well used here. The fact that the melody is constantly descending in each chorus phrase means that, for me, it seems to keep running out of energy at the end of each line, and the singer then needs to belt out the high C# to lift it again. But this is better than many a UK effort and I’m pleased that we’re writing better material this year. Although if it wins I imagine the Swedes will be miffed (Molly wrote it with Anders Hansson).
25: San Marino – Maybe (Forse) (Valentina Monetta)
Here’s me and singer-songwriter Katie Richardson participating in a short interview/discussion about songs that mention real people, as broadcast on BBC Radio’s Good Morning Ulster today. For the full ‘You’re So Vain’ debate see Carly Simon’s website.
I’ve recently discovered the American song-poem. This was a form of vanity publishing songwriting that was most common between the late 1960s and early 1970s. The lyrics were written by amateur poets, who would respond to small ads by music production companies promising to set them to music for a fee. There is an excellent collection of materials and information about the genre at the American Song-Poem Music Archives.
These (mostly awful-sounding!) recordings are useful in my songwriting creativity research, because they demonstrate the relationship between process and product, and also because they are created using a known process constraint (e.g. Bennett 2012). All the songs ostensibly took a lyrics-first approach (in that the poem was sent in to the production company) but in many cases it is obvious that the singer is crowbarring the lyrics into the melodic phrase. This suggests to me either that the songs were done in one take with no rehearsal (unlikely, given the comparative sophistication of some of the arrangements) or, more probably, that the backing tracks were pre-recorded and then re-used many times with different lyrics/clients. The lyric scansion on many of the songs is horrendous, with rushed phrasing to get to the end of the line and some phrases that start or finish at a point in the bar that is obviously ‘wrong’.
But the session singers are competent and the backing tracks well-made, in an easy-listening kind of way. You can sense that the recordings were made in a hurry – there are moments when the keyboard and bass are playing different chords from each other on the downbeat, and the band corrects the mistake in real time – the chords are usually correct by the middle of each bar. These are competent pro session players, probably working to very small fees and tight timescales. The strings are mostly played on a Mellotron by the sound of it (and the low-budget approach suggests this was likely).
I find a strange beauty in the mismatch between obvious doggerel in the lyrics and the cheesy professionalism of the backing tracks. And in some cases the vocalists are clearly trying to work too many syllables into a backing track that can’t hold them all in each phrase. Here’s Rat A Tat Tat, America. Listen at [0:53] where the ‘marshy bog’ line has to be added after the melodic line has finished.
Some of them work quite well, possibly more by accident than design, or at least by some excellent crafting by the session singers. Most of the scansion in ‘I Like Yellow Things’ works pretty well, although the B section is a tougher listen than the lists in the verses.
Aside from the scansion (which I suggest becomes a valid musical gesture of its own after you listen to three or four of these songs back to back) I’ve also become intrigued by the melodies. We know that these songs were recorded to a budget and to a deadline, and that the session singers were probably working to a pre-recorded backing track with a minimum of rehearsal. So they’re going to be looking for melodies that work reliably with the chords, and are less likely to take melodic risks. The melodies have two characteristics that suggest a first-take approach to pitch. They rely heavily on static notes, often the root note of the current chord (as in I Like Yellow Things). And they repeat melodic phrases without the variation that would be needed to maintain interest. For an example of over-using the same melodic phrase take a listen to Do You Know The Difference Between Big Wood and Brush? The melody has a good ascending chromatic line that sings well for the first four notes (the words ‘do you know the…’). My guess is that this phrase was written at the same time as the backing track, and the singer then used this basic framework to (try to) scan the new lyric over it later. But we then get the ugly scansion of the four syllables in the words ‘difference between’ (more crowbarring), and the singer rather apologetically repeats the root note of Bb for the last three of these in order to hit the start of the next ascending phrase over ‘big wood and brush’. The chromatic ascent (in the key of Bb, the notes are D-Eb-E-F) is occasionally abandoned on the fly in favour of a diatonic approach (D-Eb-F) in order to get the lyric phrase to fit.
In some songs the singer appears to abandon the idea of a properly constructed melody, and simply sings up and down the scale until the lyric line comes to an end. In the case of The Moon Men, I get the impression that the band (drums, bass, sax, electric piano) is following the singer. I also note that this track seems to have early 80s production values (that might even be a Dx7 keyboard part?), suggesting that the practice continued beyond its apparent peak in the late 60s and early 70s.
The lyrics are perhaps the least interesting aspect of song-poems to analyse, being mostly written by beginners. It is worth observing one common trait, which is the tendency to write about subjects with no emotional content. I Like Yellow Things is a good example – the title says it all, and the lyric is simply a literal list of yellow things. Here are another couple of examples of the same phenomenon – Green Fingernails (sung with wonderful sincerity by Gene Marshall) and Listen Mister Hat.
And sometimes there was no melody at all – several of the recordings are just poems spoken over music. Run Spook Run (performed by the master of the genre, Rodd Keith) is particularly interesting because it contrasts the beat-poem approach of the verses with a properly arranged titular chorus, complete with Andrews Sisters style backing vocals.
There were times when the session singer was so unrehearsed or rushed that different choruses have different melodies. Compare The Palace Roses at [0:11] and [1:46] – same lyrics, entirely different melody. It’s clear that by the time singer Todd Andrews got to the final chorus he had forgotten his own melody from the first one!
Commercially, Song Poems could be seen as a nasty scam designed to extract money from gullible amateur songwriters. But these recordings show that there are some cases where, within the constraint of terrible lyrics and time-limited studio sessions, the production companies are doing their best to make something that sounds good. Whatever you think of the material (and I think the most we can say is that it has arguable kitsch charm) it’s an interesting insight into the creative process of word-setting and the psychology of vocal improvisation.
It seems apt to end this blog post with Rodd Keith’s strangely prophetic I Died Today, in which he apparently predicts his own death…
Joe Bennett (Bath Spa University): Who Writes the Songs? Creative Practice and Intellectual Property in Popular Music’s Digital Production Chain
In music, two objects can be owned – the composition (sometimes including a lyric as a ‘literary work’), and the sound recording. The separation of song and recording is the basis on which the music industry distributes monies, but equitable IP distribution becomes more difficult when creative individuals’ contributions (of melody, lyric, arrangement, performance or production) overlap or are non-‐linearly created. In the 1960s it became increasingly common for performers to write their own songs; from the 1980s, democratisation of recording technologies gave songwriters and performers the opportunity to self-‐produce; and by the early 21st century most digital home studios had more production power than the world’s leading studios had enjoyed only 30 years earlier. 1 These changes in creative context mean that songwriters no longer need to notate their work as they did in the early 20th century; production, lyric, melodic, arrangement and performance elements can be created, edited and adapted at any stage of the creative process. Non-‐linear creative practice in song production has implications for ownership and copyright that may challenge the historical privileging of melody & lyric in popular music’s legal hierarchy. 2 This paper will provide examples of creative practice, and discuss the legal, musicological and ethical questions that 21st century song production presents for the music industry and for future music creators.
Sam Bennett (Australian National University): Virtual Remixing: Competition, Creative Commons and Copyright
In the last decade, remixing practice has changed from a niche, often concealed, highly specialised skill, into a marketing tool, promotional opportunity and point of focus for online music technology communities. This paper critically analyses examples drawn from 3 identifiable categories of online remix site:
– Creative commons sites such as ‘ccMixter’ offer users unlimited access to royalty free sample sets for remixing;
– Online remix competition hosting sites, such as ‘Indaba music’, host official remix competitions, often with prize incentives; and
– Stem remixing ‘events’ organised by individual commercial recording artists.
Yet such practice presents a dichotomy: on the one hand, remix competitions and creative commons sites allow users access into previously unheard multi track recordings, exposing both the performance and production aspects of composite parts of an original multi track recording. Prior knowledge or remixing ability is not a prerequisite and remixing events are open to anyone, anywhere, with a computer and DAW. On the other hand, commercial recording artists launching remix competitions and ‘events’ ensure full creative and copyright control by: creating instrument and vocal stems with their original effects processing in tact; limiting what the user hears either by song choice or stem formulation; ensuring only professional remix engineers are employed for commercially released remixes; and, retaining copyrights on all adaptations of the original work. Building on research published in The Oxford Handbook on Music & Virtuality, this paper evaluates the benefits and limitations of online stem remixing from the perspective of recording artist, hosting site and online remixer.