Tag Archives: #Content in Context

Vinyl on the brain

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In planning to write a blog on vinyl records, I was responding to recent personal experiences and insights on this topic. Then events somewhat overtook me, as I learned of the death this past weekend of Philip Jeck (more on him later). So this post has taken on a slightly different tone.

Image sourced from Vintage Everyday

The initial trigger for this blog came from the realisation that I’ve been spending more time on Twitter engaging with fellow vinyl enthusiasts – and of course, this interest has been amplified by social media algorithms and their “preferences” and “recommendations”. In my experience, most people who post content about music in general (and vinyl in particular) tend to be much nicer than those who indulge in the didactic venom and unfiltered hate speech that passes for “social commentary” these days. But this just goes to prove that you find your audience (and your confirmation bias?) where you choose to seek them.

Part of this on-line engagement is prompted by a passion for collecting, and a love of sharing. Yes, it could merely relate to showing off one’s vinyl stash, and may reveal fetishistic tendencies – but frankly, there are far worse vices. A lot of the commentary details successful crate-digging, charity shop bargains, and re-discovered hidden gems. In fact, the prospect of finding an over-looked classic, unearthing a valuable rarity, or simply completing a gap in your collection often drives this obsession. So much so, that recently I found myself dreaming of records which I know don’t exist, but in so much detail that part of me thinks these artefacts must be out there somewhere!

Like many music enthusiasts, I was first exposed to vinyl records via my parents’ and then my sisters’ collections. For a time in the late ’60s, my dad used to visit EMI on business, and would sometimes come home on a Friday having picked up a new release or two, most memorably the first few singles on the Beatles’ Apple label. I probably got the collecting bug more than my siblings, and still recall the key albums I bought with my own money: “Tubular Bells” by Mike Oldfield, “Autobahn” by Kraftwerk, and “A Clockwork Orange” by Wendy Carlos – which probably confirms my personal bias for instrumental, electronic and soundtrack music.

Then, I started playing in bands with mates from school, an interest that was further fueled by the arrival of punk rock, and the realisation that there was more to music than the Top 40 and old hippies singing into their patchouli-drenched afghan overcoats. One group I was in, Greenfield Leisure, received an airing on John Peel’s BBC Radio 1 programme (the Holy Grail for aspiring musicians at the time), but mostly these bands existed on home-made demo tapes, and were only ever heard (and rarely appreciated…) by our long-suffering families. Later, I worked in a chain of infamous second-hand record stores in London, which, if nothing else, revealed some of the weirder ends of the vinyl-collecting public. It also helped expand my musical knowledge, but at the cost of a fair chunk of my paltry shop wages.

Vinyl is not necessarily the most convenient format of music – it’s not as portable as digital, and not as robust as CD. Records get scratched, they warp, the grooves fill up with dust, and the sleeves get battered and torn. So, despite advances in technology, and the huge market for digital music and streaming services, why have vinyl records endured?

The continued and renewed interest in music on vinyl cannot be explained by a single factor – this phenomenon is as multi-faceted as the genres of music people listen to.

First, whether or not driven by events like Record Store Day, limited edition releases, box set retrospectives or physical copies being shipped with download coupons, vinyl sales are steadily on the up. But as a proportion of how people listen to music each week, purchased music (physical and download formats) comprises less than 10%, while streaming formats account for two-thirds of our listening.

Second, the tactile nature of vinyl records, plus the opportunity they present for creativity in their use of artwork, design and packaging, can generate a more engaging and long-lasting experience. As someone said recently on Twitter, you probably don’t remember the first music you downloaded or streamed, but it’s very likely you remember the first record you bought.

Third, quite apart from the vast amount of artist and label back catalogue being reissued on vinyl, more and more new and contemporary music is being released on vinyl as well as digital – sometimes, there’s not even a CD edition.

Fourth, swathes of back-catalogue can only be accessed via original vinyl editions, having never been re-issued during the hey-day of CDs in the 1990s and early 2000s. In fact, even where current and past releases have been released for streaming and/or download, the vagaries of geo-blocking can mean that this digital content is not available in all territories.

Finally, the economics of streaming (and to a lesser extent, downloads) have revealed that artists receive just a tiny proportion of the subscription revenue generated by Spotify, Apple and others, which can make vinyl purchases more attractive to music fans. This dynamic has also made direct-to-buyer platforms like Bandcamp more appealing to artists and fans alike.

Back to Philip Jeck, a sound artist who transformed piles of dusty old records into a musical experience. Using techniques he gleaned from watching hip-hop DJs and post-modern turntablists, he curated (rather than composed) sound collages built up from layers of seemingly forgotten and anonymous recordings, turning them into live art. I was fortunate enough to see him perform twice. The first was in 1993, when he presented his magnum opus “Vinyl Requiem” at the Union Chapel in North London. The second was in 2008, for a much more intimate solo performance at The Toff in Town, Melbourne. In both cases, the use of streaming could not have resulted in such a strong creative process or delivered such immersive listening.

Next week: Music with literary leanings

Ask an expert…

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I’m often approached for advice about the work I do. Many of these enquiries come via LinkedIn connection requests, but generally they are thinly-veiled attempts to sell me something, or to gain access to my network, or to get free consulting. So I have developed a number of techniques to flush out the bona fide from the free-loaders.

In principle, I like to pay it forward when I can, where I believe I can add value, without any immediate expectation of material reward. But there are only so many hours in a day, and there’s only so many connection requests I can handle.

On the positive side, recently I’ve been receiving more genuine approaches, where specific expertise is being sought, rather than someone wanting to “connect” or “buy me a coffee”.

A great example is the call I received from a prospective client through my work at Brave New Coin. Dr Michael Kollo is the CEO of Clanz, a new on-line community for crypto traders. Following this initial chat, Michael invited me to be a guest on his podcast, to discuss my personal journey into crypto over the past 6 years with Brave New Coin and Techemy.

The result was a very enjoyable (but hopefully informative) conversation about my views on the crypto industry, based on my particular perspective in market data and indexing. I hope you enjoy it too:

https://blog.clanz.com/crypto-cappuccino-s01e01-rory-manchee-brave-new-coin

Next week: Vinyl on the brain

Public Indifference?

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A few weeks ago, two connected but unrelated news items caught my attention. The first concerned the death of an elderly man, who froze to death in plain sight on a busy city street. The second, published barely 10 days later, reported that the mummified body of an elderly woman was only found two years after she died. Much of the commentary surrounding both stories talked about public indifference (even callousness) and lack of concern for our neighbours, especially those who live alone.

I suspect that two years of pandemic, lock-downs and isolation have only amplified preexisting conditions. Depending on our perspective, we may choose not to do or say anything in these situations because: we don’t want to get involved, we don’t want to interfere, we don’t want to risk infection, we don’t feel adequately trained to deal with these situations, or we simply don’t have the time.

Scenarios like these can often make us think about how we might react in similar circumstances – the thing is, we won’t know until it happens. But equally, acquiring some basic skills or adopting some common protocols might help prevent future individual tragedies.

In my inner city suburb, during the pandemic, there has been a sense of “looking out” for your neighbours – some enterprising folk even organised local soup deliveries, and unwanted home produce was left by front gates. It was all totally spontaneous, but largely driven by existing relationships. If we want to do this properly, by fully respecting older neighbours’ independence whilst not interfering in their daily lives, we need some different community models.

One positive example came from the ABC’s inspirational documentary series, “Old People’s Home For 4 Year Olds”. Although a large part of the outcome was to help older people in building up their physical and cognitive skills, by also framing it about boosting pre-schoolers’ social development, it underlined the longer-term community benefits of such initiatives. It also showed that in raising mutual awareness of the need for social interaction, and by creating a level of co- and inter-dependency, communities can find practical solutions and achievable outcomes, often using existing and available resources more creatively.

Next week: Ask an expert…

 

Literary legacies

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As more classic works of literature come out of copyright protection, and enter the public domain, publishers and booksellers can look forward to sales of re-packaged titles, for which they won’t have to pay royalties. With the right combination of content and marketing, it’s as good as free money.

Under the Berne Convention, copyright in published works is the life of the author plus 50 years, although many territories have extend this to life plus 70 years (100 in Mexico!). These periods may be subject to extensions if the executors of literary estates are able to renew the existing copyright (under previous copyright regimes) or by issuing revised editions of existing works which are sufficiently different to the original so as to constitute an entirely separate publication – but these are exceptions.

By allowing copyright to lapse, this should mean key works will always be in print, and even more obscure titles can be revived with little to no production cost. For nearly 20 years, Google Books has been scanning works out of copyright and putting them online. But even this process can run into copyright limitations, and questions of provenance (as illustrated by the treatment of George Orwell’s “1984”). But this has also encouraged some enterprising individuals to sell “reprints” of facsimile copies of scanned titles, when the buyer thought they were purchasing an authentic copy, or a contemporary edition (i.e., newly typeset and printed).

Intellectual property law may be complex, and in need of reform to reflect modern technology and contemporary society. But as copyright works pass into the public domain, there remains the issue of moral rights. These give writers the right to be identified as the author of a work (“attribution”), and to protect their work against inappropriate use (“derogatory treatment”). Moral rights also protect writers against “false attribution” – i.e., a publisher can’t claim a work was written by an author who didn’t actually write it.

Moral rights vary from country to country (e.g., Germany, UK, USA, Australia), but generally do not survive when copyright expires. Which can mean that unscrupulous publishers may feel emboldened to “modify” original texts at will, given some recent examples of key 20th century novels. Surely not what authors and their legacies should be subject to?

Next week: Public Indifference?