haunting scene from Tony Scott’s 1995 film Crimson Tide, Navy officer Denzel Washington and his commander Gene
Hackman are holding an intense discussion on the work of Prussian general and military
theorist Carl von Clausewitz. Through his magnus opus Vom Kriege, Clausewitz is credited with popularising the roundabout
warfare approach, a strategic framework for military campaigns emphasising
weakening an opponent through sustained peripheral victories and limited losses
over an extended period of time rather than attempting a swift resolution by attacking
an enemy directly. Clausewitz’s ideas would prove influential, both in Europe
and beyond, although the strategy has a historical precedent stretching further
back to the far more well-known The Art
of War by Sun-Tzu (more than likely the only book on ancient Chinese
military strategy read by your company’s CEO). In the claustrophobic
surroundings of a military submarine, Denzel’s character cryptically opines
that the era of mutually assured destruction and nuclear weapons means that ‘the true enemy of war is war itself’.
Cue dramatic pause. Like Gene Hackman’s character (minus the
cigar), I sat back and contemplated that quote’s applicability in other areas
of business, particularly a music industry still in the throes of a streaming-led
renaissance. The question then came forth that analogously, in the competitive
world of music streaming, has music itself begun to get in the way of music
Before the digital pitchforks come out, I should clarify: MIDiA
has intensely pushed the idea that, given the rise of the attention economy in
modern media, as a music service you are no longer simply competing with other
artists or services for listenership but rather the entire media ecosystem.
Netflix CEO Reed Hastings once told analysts on a quarterly earnings call that
sleep was his company’s greatest competitor; he recently changed his mind to Fortnite.
Why does this shift particularly impact the recorded music industry?
Because, as we have outlined in previous reports around
music’s role in the YouTube economy, the present music format does not lend
itself especially well from a monetisation perspective to the present digital
economy. YouTube plays ads every 15 minutes of watch-time in a viewing session
– meaning content that keeps users watching for longer is rewarded. This has
been posited as one of the reasons why gaming content gained an early advantage
in the early days of YouTube and why gamers such as PewDiePie became so
successful. Gamers could upload half-hour walk throughs several times a week. A
musician meanwhile was accustomed to around 12 songs every few years; YouTube’s
economics do not favour this.
It is not feasible nor even possible that every artist would
be able to make this switch. However, it does have a few significant
ramifications for rightsholders. With direct uploads, Spotify is about to
become a lot more like YouTube and, in an attention economy, is music getting
in the way? Spotify has already pivoted towards being an audio company, and
their acquisitions have leaned more towards the podcast side of the business in
recent months. With its new Stations proposition, on top of the already-popular
playlist listening, it is transitioning from merely a search-and-stream tool to
a soundscape developer.
This is what makes major label partnership and investment in
soundscapes a notable area of discussion when it comes to music finance. Soundscapes
are typically an hour, longer than the average album, and with the format
seemingly in perpetual decline on a listenership basis, soundscape collages are
a format that people will have playing for an extended period of time and plays
into the recent trends for participants in Yoga and general wellness.
Music has always had some functional use case. Sound has
been as much a communal experience as it has been a weapon. The embryonic music
industry of the 1950s was replete with various compilations credited with
creating a certain mood. By the 1970s, the emergence of ambient music through
artists such as Brian Eno would revitalise this functionalist idea of music. Such
records would prove influential on the nascent rave scene and in turn the 90s
chillout trend. Music to a degree has therefore almost always been used for its
utility; perhaps the emergence of streaming through the nature of its UX has
only now put a blatant label on it.
Many will bemoan the very concept of music being background noise,
pining for the years of its unchallenged centre-stage place in youth culture as
the focal point of fashion and politics. Music’s emotional power means this
will not drop away; those who think music fandom has diminished in an era of
games and social media have clearly not been paying attention to the Billie
Eilish phenomenon. Perhaps the best framework in which to view this space is
that extended soundscapes may be to the streaming era what the best-of compilation
was to the physical era: a place to make high-margin, less-volatile returns
while investing these returns in the high-stakes creative work underpinning artists
and repertoire. Given the hits-based distribution of streaming, which is still riding
on its celebratory narrative, this is one battle the labels will not want to
lose. Was easy listening ever meant to be this difficult?
The post The Battleground for the Background: Why Music Companies Are Investing in Soundscape Start-Ups appeared first on MIDiA Research.