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Reluctantly,
I've just had to turn down the chance to appear on the BBC 10 O'Clock
News
tonight* to discuss the thorny problem of music copyright, brought to
the fore
of the headlines again by the redoubtable Sir Cliff Richard. In the
absence of
a national television audience, I thought I’d bung my thoughts on the
matter up
here, should anyone want to know what I think.
Cliff believes that it’s terribly
unfair that copyright in
sound recordings should expire after 50 years. He believes he should
have the
right to receive payment for his recordings in perpetuity. Funnily
enough, as a
fellow creative toiler, I semi-agree. I’d hate to think of the Peter
Pan of Pop
having to sell his last tennis racket to make ends meet, but the fact
is that
extending the copyright period past the current 50 years would be
injurious to
artists less fortunate than Sir Cliff.
Pick
a record, any record. Look at the
small print on the label. Chances are that somewhere it will say
“© Original
sound recording is owned by [insert flatulent money-grabbing corporate
monolith
here]”. Not “© Original sound recording is owned by the poor
bugger who wrote
and recorded it”. Only successful artists with persuasive managers
retain the
copyright in their own recordings, leasing them to the record companies
for a
set period, after which the deal is renegotiated. Most artists still
sign
direct to a record company, which then owns every chord they strum or
note they
warble during the period of that contract, for 50 years after its
release.
That’s
50 years in which the record
companies can re-issue and re-package the music, making it available to
a
grateful listening public. Or it’s 50 years in which the record
companies can
let the music sit deleted and unloved in an archive, whining about
downloaders while fail ing to realise their assets fully, as would be
good business practice anywhere else. The re-issue market is booming,
and it’s a market that will seemingly withstand any amount of product.
Moreover, the technology now exists to make available material that
would not
turn a profit on even the most modest CD pressing run.
Disenfranchised from their work, most
artists have no control over its exploitation and destiny. Records that
sell
for silly prices second-hand, and are ripe for re-issue, sit gathering
dust.
One option is for the artist or a reissue label to license the
recordings from the record company. However, they
usually demand an extortionate up-front payment, which, in the case of
most
niche recordings, is enough to discourage all but those with a
Brewster’s
Millions complex from bothering.
To
Cliff, the expiry of copyright
means a few quid fewer in his capacious bank account. To a less
financially-successful artist, it means potential emancipation. When a
recording passes into the public domain, that means that anyone can
release it,
as long as they pay the composer any royalties accruing from the sale.
What’s
that? The 50-year term only applies to a recorded performance of a
piece of
work. Copyright will exist in the composition for 70 years after the
composer’s
death. Perhaps if Cliff’s worried where the next few quid are coming
from, he
should have written a few more songs instead of leaving it to Hank,
Bruce and
Brian. So, the expiry of a recording’s copyright actually allows an
artist to
regain a degree of control over their work.
Why
has this become an issue now? The
50-year period for sound recordings was set by the Copyright Act of
1911 and
remained unmolested through that Act’s many revisions ever since. If it
really
was a long-term threat, any efficient, well-run industry would have
dealt with
it years ago. However, the words ‘efficient’ and ‘record company’ go
together
like ‘Jew-friendly’ and ‘Nazi’. Until now, recordings over 50 years old
have
tended to be of limited interest to the mass record-buying public.
Nonetheless,
while there is a healthy market for such nostalgic recordings, it
wasn’t enough
to wake the major record companies from their slumbers. However, with
the
earliest Elvis recordings having passed out of copyright last year and
the
Beatles, Bob Dylan, the Who, etc due to go public domain in the next
decade,
alarm bells have rung. These have been the major labels’ cash cows for
years,
and the thought of having to discover new artists of equal stature to
replenish
the coffers is too much. Extend copyright and we can all go back to
sleep
again.
To
extend the copyright period in
sound recordings would make an already complacent industry even more
unbearably
smug, and give a clear signal that they can get exactly what they want
if they
whine loud enough. The losers will be the artists who continue to have
their back
catalogue sat on by the fat corporate arse of the record companies, the
small
record companies who have made available numerous archive recordings
that have
passed into the public domain (which would almost certainly not be made
available any other way), and, of course, the general record-buying
public.
I’m a
reasonable man. Here’s a counter
proposal: Record companies can have copyright for as long as they want,
as long
as they make their entire archives commercially available in some shape
or
form at a reasonable price. If a title goes out of catalogue, the
rights revert immediately to the artist. Until then, no sale.
* Tuesday 18 April 2006, let the record
show - if it means I've turned down the chance to be in the same room
as Fiona Bruce, I think I'll cry.
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