Why Streaming is the Future of DJ'ing

Download sales are in a free-fall as acceptance of music streaming continues to grow. If you’re in the dance music industry, you might feel some immunity (at least for now) as DJs are your primary customers. And DJs have to download, right? They still need the digital files on a USB, or a CD if they’re (ahem) old school. Well ...

Complete Music Update:

Dance music download platform Beatport has acquired Pulselocker, the DJ-centric streaming service that ceased operations late last year.

Pulselocker allowed DJs to access music to include in their sets. It integrated with various DJ software and hardware systems, worked offline, and reported usage back to rights owners. As a result of the deal, Beatport plans to utilise Pulselocker’s patented technology within its own planned streaming service later this year.

Coverage of this acquisition has noted that Beatport previously attempted a streaming service and failed. But it’s easy to see that the plan here is much different. While Beatport’s earlier streaming ambition was to be like a dance music Spotify, the Pulselocker acquisition promises something new: a subscription streaming service for DJs.

I remember once terrifying a DJ friend of mine with the prediction of a ‘Wi-Fi CDJ’ that would access the DJ’s library from the cloud. The result is not that much different than inserting a USB, really — the DJ would be found scrolling through song titles on the CDJ’s screen and queuing selected tracks for play. It made sense for this prediction to be subscription-based, and for the DJ to be able to organize the catalog with folders and tags beforehand using an app. There would also be an offline element in case the network connection got spotty. My friend was worried as this alternate future killed dance music’s market for downloads.

But the last market flying the flag of paid downloads isn’t as healthy as we’d like to believe. DJs are a tribal group, bonding tightly over music and club life. The thought of piracy may not ever enter their minds but sending MP3 copies of a dozen hot tracks to a DJ buddy is an acceptable notion. The dance music world is also rooted in an often desperate promo culture, with labels sending links to free downloads of the latest release to hundreds (sometimes thousands) of tastemakers in one go. Don’t get me wrong — many DJs are still buying downloads, but many others are incentivized not to.

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The streaming DJ set-up is disruptive and offers an alternative. The convenience of instantly adding to one’s library transforms copying and sharing amongst DJs into recommending. And I can also see promo services doing deals with Beatport or other streaming-for-DJ services, allowing private ‘lockers’ of pre-release music accessible only through invitation.

There is an issue of bandwidth and audio quality. Discerning DJs prefer the uncompromised quality of a WAV or AIFF audio format, which means large file sizes. But bandwidth and speed are always getting better, and I can imagine these futuristic CDJs utilizing a cellular network in addition to Wi-Fi internet, or can be reliably wired in by ethernet or other systems. There’s also the offline option, and I guess that libraries would be downloaded ahead of time into temporary onboard memory – or transferred to a USB for backup – in case of network failure. If this all works as planned then why even play MP3s? The DJ has the preferable WAV or AIFF option at her fingertips (or, likely, a future lossless format devised for streaming DJs) so why settle for inferior sonics? The overall sound of clubland improves.

For labels and self-releasing artists, the available data will be mind-blowing. Theoretically one could check stats on a Monday morning to see how many times a track got played over the weekend, in what cities, and maybe even — if these future CDJs are geo-located — what clubs. There’s also a payment to labels per play which might mirror Spotify’s subscription model (though I hope Beatport considers adopting a subscriber share model). At first, this may seem a severe downgrade from download income, but when one considers the decline in shared MP3s and the potential monetization of promos (not to mention the improved potential for discovery), then things get a little rosier.

Another factor making a difference is the conceivable ease of reporting venue play for performance royalty collection. Ideally, I’d like to see the streaming service or even the CDJ itself automatically report the set list to performance rights organizations. If that doesn’t happen, then the DJ or venue can easily output a list of the songs played during a set for online submission. This innovation, coupled with the advent of audio fingerprint technology in play identification (already being tested in a handful of countries such as Germany and the UK), helps solve the longstanding problem of inaccurate distribution of venue-related performance royalty. Historically, a nightclub’s yearly license payment to a performing rights organization (such as BMI and ASCAP) goes to an assumed pool of top-tier artists, no matter the music policy of the club. These technological solutions would radically change the landscape, and non-mainstream clubs could finally see their mandatory licensing fees going to underground artists. So, in the near future, a dance music producer could find direct income from DJ play via streaming subscriptions and venue performance royalty.

It’s inevitable that DJs will use streaming or cloud-based services as their ‘record crates’ (well, save for the vinyl hold-outs — like me). DJs are not strangers to disruption, having transitioned from 12”s to CDs to USB sticks to laptops in just over thirty years. But this is the big one, changing how we select, promo, discover, collect, play, and monetize. The art of DJ’ing responds to the technology, so it will be be interesting to see how this next step affects the DJs, their ingenuity, and the sounds they play.

Musical Memories from Imaginary Places

I came across this wonderful article in The New Yorker about a YouTube-posted version of Toto’s “Africa” made to sound like it’s playing in a shopping mall:

In my 3 a.m. mood, the YouTube edit, uploaded by a user named Cecil Robert, was almost too affecting to bear; it sounded like longing and consolation together, extended into emptiness, a shot of warmth coming out of a void.

Oddly, listening to Toto’s “Africa” in a mall seems to trigger some fundamental human emotion … hearing a song you love when it’s playing from elsewhere is a reassuring, isolating experience: you feel solitary and cared for at the same time.

Recall that Brian Eno conceived of what he termed ‘ambient music’ after being forced to listen to a harp recording at low volume, accompanied by the natural sound of rain outside his window. Eno probably never heard a harp mixed with outdoor rainfall before, so there wasn’t a past emotional reference that affected him. It was the context of where the music existed in his mind, inspired by factors like environment, volume, reverb (natural or otherwise), and sonic quality (the frequencies that were accented or muffled). Just the same, I’m not sure if the author of the New Yorker article experienced “Africa” at a shopping mall in her childhood. But the combination of imagined context (a shopping mall, where she spent time in her youth) and a beloved song from the era triggered an emotion from a memory that probably never happened.

The YouTube clip shows a photo of a shopping mall interior, located in Everytown, USA, and the parenthetical subtitle “playing in an empty shopping centre.” This description in itself is odd, as the poster’s US origin makes me expect “center.” Perhaps he’s fittingly an anglophilic victim of the ‘80s British Invasion? But I digress – my point is that the recording would not have the same effect without the photo of the mall or the subtitle planting the seed in our heads. Instead, the picture could be of an aircraft hanger, subtitled “playing in an empty aircraft hanger.” Would retired airplane mechanics suddenly get all swoony?

Probably not. The shopping mall is powerful for contextualizing as we’ve all heard music blaring through similar retail compounds. It’s doubtful an airplane mechanic regularly heard music blasting through a hanger. The potency is in connecting two parts of the brain that agree on a possible spatial and temporal environment for a song. This song sounds different — that's because we've been told it's playing in a shopping mall. Our experience allows an understanding of this context, and now we’re feeling twice as nostalgic.

This experiment is insightful. I’ve always felt that, as a music producer, creating make-believe settings for songs can accentuate the song’s ability to connect with listeners. By constructing a world that the song takes place in – whether a particular room, or a landscape, and/or a different time – and allowing this to influence production decisions like reverb, stereo placement, equalization, and extraneous sounds, the song has the potential to open the listener’s imagination. However, there’s no reason to state that you’ve set the song in a shopping mall or any other imagined territory. By following through on intention and delivering context, the song becomes more of a living thing and cinematic, with the listener encouraged to create his or her story.

This idea isn't original. There are a number of songs and albums inspired by fictional places. But, if you haven’t considered this creative game, then I recommend it. And I’m asking you to fabricate the whole story, look, and feel of the place. Is it rocky or is it soft? Is it high up or underground? Are you there alone or are people, plants, or animals with you? Does this place have a name?

Early in my recording career I met producer Howie B., and he gave me this advice: “Invent a mental movie scene and record the soundtrack.” Howie meant this in terms of an imaginary film dictating the builds and turns of a song, but the movie’s setting would naturally influence the sonic characteristics. Even without action, a scene set in outer space gets scored differently than one occurring on the Amalfi Coast. And, to emphasize this point, no one has to know the location or plot of your mind-movie. Keep it your secret – that will encourage you to stretch, go to places that you might be embarrassed to reveal, places from your memory, or even appropriated scenes from movies that exist in the real world.

I’m simply proposing a creative exercise to give your muse some extra juice. Unless you’re making music that Eno would define as ‘ambient’ — that is, background music meant to be listened to alongside its environment – you shouldn’t use a fantastic imaginary setting to compensate for a half-written song. And subtlety is key. Overdoing your ‘sailing through the Grand Canyon’ tune with heaps of reverb and bird noises will probably be more distracting than affecting. But contextualizing music, as an occasional practice, might guide the producer toward fascinating discovery and, like Toto in a shopping mall, give the listener an unexpected jolt of emotion and haunting familiarity.

Awkwardly Blissing Out: A Ghostly Occurrence

Listening to F ingers is a ghostly occurrence, not of the floating sheets kind but that of an occupied space, occupants unknown. Just as stylized cinematography or purposefully scratchy film grain can feel like an additional character in a movie, F ingers’ lo-fi, mumbling production imagines a confined architecture and a smokey mist seeping through door cracks. I’m cautious but entranced.

Comprised of Australians Carla Dal Forno, Tarquin Manek, and Samuel Karmel, F ingers reveals (to me) Awkwardly Blissing Out, their second effort for the deservedly hip Blackest Ever Black label. There are only six tracks, but there’s much to digest here. The album recalls the experimental DIY production renaissance of the cassette crazy late ’80s/early ‘90s, including work by a few forgotten New Zealand sonic scientists (for hemispheric relevance). These influences have layers, and I’m driven to find pieces of Brian Eno’s “In Dark Trees” within “All Rolled Up” and the DNA of Cabaret Voltaire’s Red Mecca wrapped around the album’s title track. But it’s the deliberate aural claustrophobia that’s striking, relieved momentarily by Dal Forno’s lovely, sing-songy – and somewhat disembodied – vocals. The compositions exhibit a restrained improvisation, seemingly deliberate when listened from top-to-bottom, but there’s frequent evidence of the ‘happy accident.’ For example, that relatively catchy synth motif in “Your Confused” isn’t improvised in the notes played, but in the playful tweaks of processing and timbre.

There’s perhaps this movement away from the pristine and the technical in music production. The surprise is the evocative nature of the imperfect, whether a wistful mood inferred from a ruined tintype photograph or a chill-on-the-spine delivered via a crumbling homestead. Awkwardly Blissing Out masterfully transports the listener in this way. It’s a nice and spooky place to visit, though you probably wouldn’t want to live there.

Holger Czukay's Secret Code

My friend Tom was years older than me, and he let me regularly visit his house to listen to records. I was a weirdo growing up isolated in Central Louisiana, and friends like Tom were invaluable. His record collection was immense and consistently opened my mind to amazing sounds. Tom introduced me to Krautrock, a music genre that was startling to a Louisiana teenager in the mid-'80s. I think Faust came first and I paid homage to the discovery many years later. But the wildest lightning strike occurred when Tom put the needle on CAN's Monster Movie and a song called "You Doo Right":

A lot is going on in that 20+ minute song, recorded the year I was born. The pounding drum line, a spiraling guitar, and Malcolm Mooney's yowling vocal churn together like rotating machinery. The mesmerizing hook, though, is provided by Holger Czukay's trampoline of a bass line. If repetition is a form of change then Czukay nails the concept. As Czukay once said, “The bass player’s like a king in chess. He doesn’t move much, but when he does, he changes everything.”

NPR Music:

It feels somehow inapt to simply identify Czukay as "CAN's bassist." Holger Czukay was the band's co-founder, its center, its de facto leader, its producer and engineer, its tape editor, its bassist, its radio knob turner, and, effectively, its light and its shade. In its early-'70s prime, Can was dedicated to collective improvisation — as Czukay put it last year to Mojo, "We were not thinking. When you make music together, you have to reach a common accident." At its best, the group sounded like a single organism. But one man, Czukay, collectively tuned them.

Holger Czukay was also a prolific solo artist and collaborator, working with the likes of Brian Eno, Jah Wobble, and David Sylvian. Pitchfork has published a solid sampling of Czukay's efforts which is worth checking out.

Holger Czukay, 79, passed on this week, found dead in his home which doubled as the old Inner Space studio in Weilerswist, Germany. CAN drummer Jaki Liebezeit passed last January.

There's little denying the influence of either, and theirs is an influence that's obscured like a secret code. It runs covertly through so much music and so many genres. Some of us are indebted a lot, and others just a little, but we're all indebted.

The Digital Dispute Over Mechanical Royalty

Lots of confused, angry, and wide-eyed rumblings due to Spotify's latest legal pronouncement. The Hollywood Reporter explains:

What {Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons member Bob} Gaudio's lawsuit alleges — as did the prior class action — is Spotify is violating the reproduction rights of publishers and songwriters. Those making a mechanical reproduction of a musical composition can obtain a compulsory license and bypass having to negotiate terms with publishers. However, those doing so have to follow certain protocol like sending out notices and making payments. The lawsuit claims that Spotify hasn't done an adequate job of doing this.

In the past, Spotify has pointed to the difficulty of locating the co-authors of each of the tens of millions of copyrighted musical works it streams. It fought the class action mainly on jurisdictional grounds as well as challenging whether the lawsuits were ripe for class treatment. But Spotify seems prepared to go another step and set off a legal firestorm by now challenging what rights are truly implicated by streaming.

"Plaintiffs allege that Spotify 'reproduce[s]' and 'distribute[s]' Plaintiffs’ works, thereby facilely checking the boxes to plead an infringement of the reproduction and distribution rights," states a Spotify motion for a more definitive statement from the plaintiffs. "But Plaintiffs leave Spotify guessing as to what activity Plaintiffs actually believe entails 'reproduction' or 'distribution.' The only activity of Spotify’s that Plaintiffs identify as infringing is its 'streaming' of sound recordings embodying Plaintiffs’ copyrighted musical compositions."

Spotify is implying that digital streaming doesn't entail reproduction; thus the service never owed mechanical royalties in the first place. If you're confused (and that's understandable), Complete Music Update gives a solid explainer:

In music, and especially music publishing, a distinction is commonly made between the reproduction and distribution controls – often referred to as the ‘mechanical rights’ – and the performance, communication and making available controls – commonly referred to as the ‘performing rights’.

When you press a CD you exploit the mechanical rights but not the performing rights. When you play a song on the radio you exploit the performing rights but not the mechanical rights. But what about digital?

Copyright law doesn’t usually state which controls the digital transfer of a song or recording exploits, though generally the music industry has treated a digital delivery as both a reproduction and a communication (or a reproduction and a making available) at the same time. A download only exploited the mechanical rights, while a personalised radio service like Pandora or iHeartRadio only exploited the performing rights. However, with on-demand streaming of the Spotify variety, it has generally been accepted that both the mechanical and performing rights are being exploited.

(The full CMU explainer is worth a read.)

I admit, applying mechanical royalty to digital streaming seems a stretch at first. But what's important to remember is mechanical royalty is not meant to be tied to purchase or the consumer acquiring the duplicated composition. For example, if a label manufactures 1000 CDs then mechanical royalty must be paid for all 1000 copies, even if only 50 sell.

Technically, streaming does require a download, though that download is immediately deleted from the device's RAM. So, even though the listener isn't purchasing or acquiring the song, there is a duplication taking place.

This does get tricky when one examines the separation of radio-style services (such as Pandora's traditional streaming 'stations' and iHeartRadio) and on-demand streamers (Spotify, Apple Music). I don't know the technical specifics, but doesn't a Pandora 'station' download the file to a device's RAM as well? Almost every other country in the world seems to think so, as the US is an outlier in excluding digital radio-style services from mechanical royalty payment.

If the issue of mechanical royalty and streaming goes to court, it will be watched very carefully as the precedent set either way would be monumental.

Spotify has already paid out tens of millions in settlements over unpaid mechanicals which is likely to be seen as an admission of guilt, hurting the chances of the 'we should be exempt' argument. So the money is on the status quo. Regardless, songwriters have a right to be concerned. The line taken by Spotify's lawyers reveals that the company believes writers should be paid even less than they presently are.

The Patronage Economy and Fan Accessibility

Here's an enthusiastic TED Talk from Jack Conte, co-founder of Patreon and one-half of Pomplamoose:

Conte: What gets me super excited to be a creator right now, to be alive today, to be a creative person right now, is realizing that we’re only ten years into figuring out this new machine, to figuring out the next hundred years of infrastructure for our creators. And you can tell we’re only ten years in as there’s a lot of trial and error. There’s some really good ideas and there’s a lot of experimentation.We’re figuring out what works and what doesn’t.

More from The Verge on Patreon's promise:

Patreon isn’t simply a replacement for record labels or TV networks, though. Instead it’s the ideal incubator for niche internet subcultures, where a small but dedicated group of fans can directly support work they care about. That includes traditional arts and entertainment, but also YouTube celebrities, cultural figures, or even political actions — some inspiring, some troubling. The Patreon model encourages people to see themselves not as consumers, but as members of a private club, free from the constraints of mainstream gatekeepers or mass-market appeal. And in the process, it’s blurred the lines between art, artist, and audience in an unprecedented way.

I admit two things here: I share Conte's optimism and enthusiasm for being a creative person in this current era. I also quite like the idea of Patreon. It's been tough for me to warm up to crowdfunders like Kickstarter and PledgeMusic as I can't get over the perception of having to plead with one's fans.

Then there's the 'breaking the fourth wall' aspect. "Pledge $500 and the band will cook you dinner." I know this works for some artists and fits in their M.O., but is this the future for all creators? Maybe I'm old fashioned in that I enjoy an air of mystery from the musical acts I enjoy. I'd rather not have them cook me dinner or call me on the phone in return for some cash.

On the outside, Patreon seems different. The 'patron' is joining the fan club and getting perks. For musicians using Patreon, these perks could be advance peeks at songs, limited merch or physical releases, and glimpses into the creative process. But there's also the phone calls, the live chats, the guitar lessons. Again, that's fine if this intimacy with fans comes naturally, but the worry is it becoming an expectation from those who aren't comfortable. You know, like most artistic types.

From The Verge again:

Unlike their predecessors, internet celebrities thrive on a radical accessibility. {Musician Peter} Hollens, for example, has built his current a cappella career on subverting the rock star mystique. He’s got an easy answer for why there are so few fellow musicians topping Patreon’s charts: “Musicians are a product. We have a difficult time conveying to the audience that we’re people,” he says. “I’m a person first and a musician second, because that’s the best angle to take to succeed in the future as a musician. It’s very difficult to have that come across when you have, like, a slick produced audio and visual thing.” His music videos are complex and stylish, but he ends each one by earnestly addressing the camera, breaking the fourth wall between him and his audience.

In this system, it’s almost impossible to separate a work of art from its creator — or, at least, its creator’s public persona. Is there a future for someone who wants to be a musician, but not a personality? “No. I don’t think so,” Hollens says. “I don’t think the reclusive thing is going to happen anymore. That’s not the world we live in. Like, the Brad Pitts of the world” — distant celebrities who are loved from afar — “are losing value.”

I still think there's room for the aloof artist. With accessibility becoming the norm I'm entertaining the idea that aloofness might now be a marketable 'angle.' I'd love to see a mysterious artist use and exploit Patreon, or something like it, and subvert the platform's preference for approachability. Is there anyone out there presently attempting this?

The Zen of Consistently Recording Songs, Not Albums

Author James Clear recently published an enlightening post about goals vs. systems. He proposes that one can find effectiveness in a project by focusing on systems and jettisoning goals.

The general idea is this: a goal to complete a novel in three months is intimidating, and this looming target often triggers anxiety and procrastination. Regardless, you should have a system planned out to reach that objective, such as 'write five hundred words each day.' Clear argues that you may find yourself more productive by not having the goal, but maintaining the system. Just simply write five hundred words a day without the pressure of an end goal. Soon enough you'll have that novel.

As Clear explains:

But we do this to ourselves all the time. We place unnecessary stress on ourselves to lose weight or to succeed in business or to write a best-selling novel. Instead, you can keep things simple and reduce stress by focusing on the daily process and sticking to your schedule, rather than worrying about the big, life-changing goals. When you focus on the practice instead of the performance, you can enjoy the present moment and improve at the same time.

These sentiments echo the advice that I give to music producers who are stressed about 'not enough time in a day' to finish an album project. Take it from me, writing and recording an album is nerve-racking, especially when you've put the process in the context of resulting in an album statement.

A simple way to remove the stress and put the fun back into recording is to forget the album. Just record songs. Those songs may show up on an album, but don't think about that now. Just make a point to write and record every day. Stay consistent, and keep up the practice, and you'll end up with a bunch of songs. Whether you want to release them individually, as EPs, or as an album will be your choice, rather than a 'goal' choosing for you. As a bonus, this will become a habit. You'll continue to write and record every day even after the 'album' is finished.

Not enough time in the day? Forgo watching Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt tonight and instead spend thirty minutes in your DAW. Not inspired? Play around with sounds and loops. Delve into that new soft synth you purchased last week. Waiting for inspiration is for producers who don't deliver. Chances are once you start messing around inspiration will magically appear.

There's also the Seinfeld method, which is another great tool for consistency and output. Jerry Seinfeld uses this to make sure he sits down to write every day. Via Lifehacker:

It's more commonly known as "Don't Break the Chain," and the concept is simple: spend some amount of time doing a desired activity every day and, when you do, cross off that day on a calendar. This creates a chain of Xs showing your progress. If you don't do your specified task on one day, you don't get an X and that chain is broken. It seems almost too simple to work, but it's allowed me to accomplish so much more than I ever thought possible.

I think a trick here is to get a big, bold calendar and hang it where you can't miss it. Use a thick marker – maybe even bright neon ink – to X out the days. Working on music thirty minutes a day is a good starting point, and let the calendar's visibility remind you of the task at hand.

Not every day has to be successful or produce the beginning of the next big hit song. The point is to be working at it consistently, and the long term result (or goal, if you'd like) is that you'll be so much better at what you do with a large body of work to show. And I'm certain there will be a potential hit in there somewhere.

Dubset's Major Move


Spotify and Apple Music could soon get the legal grey area of music like remixes and DJ sets that today live unofficially on SoundCloud. Sony Music Entertainment today became the first major record label to allow its music to be monetized through unofficial mixes thanks to a deal with rights clearance startup Dubset. That means Sony’s master recordings will be indexed by Dubset, and rights holders will be compensated even if just a tiny one-second snippet of their song is used in a DJ set or remix.

A source tells TechCrunch that Dubset is getting closer to securing deals with the other two major labels Warner and Universal.

If it can lock down all three, remixes and DJ sets featuring almost any music could be legally hosted on the top streaming services instead of being barred or removed for copyright infringement. That might eliminate the differentiation that’s kept struggling SoundCloud afloat. Illegal music uploaded there has sometimes flown under the radar since SoundCloud is protected by Safe Harbor law regarding user generated content. But if it’s legally available on Spotify, Apple Music, and elsewhere, listeners wouldn’t have to go to SoundCloud.

Could we be stepping closer to a mainstream acceptance of remix culture? A future where derivative works are not only allowed but encouraged is a divergent music future, indeed. As previously stated on this blog, if you can clear unauthorized remixes using Dubset, then why not clear samples eventually? We might be entering an era where most music is fair game for creative mutation, and the original artists get paid. How will that work with songs already released, especially the ones that sneakily didn't clear drum loops or other samples? Should clearance lawyers start looking at new career options?

As far as Apple Music and Spotify go, I really can't see them opening up their services to user-uploaded content a la SoundCloud. I'm ready to be surprised, but I do think those predictions are off the mark. The Verge gives a clue to where this might be headed for the two big streamers:

DJ mixes have historically proved to be especially difficult for monetized distribution. “The average mix is 62 minutes long and has 22 different songs in it, and those 22 different songs are represented by over 100 different rights holders,” {Dubset CEO Stephen} White tells The Verge. Using Dubset’s technology, a 60-minute mix can be processed in just 15 minutes.

During that 60-minute mix, White says, MixSCAN will fingerprint every three seconds of audio. “We’re using a combination of audio fingerprinting technologies and fairly advanced algorithmic approaches to identify the underlying masters that are being used in a mix or a remix,” he says. Although MixBANK asks DJs themselves to identify the masters, White says this is just to help validate MixSCAN’s results.

Apple's Beats 1 Radio regularly broadcasts sets by newsworthy artists and celebrities, but the Beats 1 platform still fails to make the news. These DJ events need exposure outside of the ephemeral original broadcast. Wouldn't it be nice if the sets were recorded and archived, and then available to play on demand via Apple Music? I think that's what's happening here. A different sort of license is required to make these DJ sets available on demand, and every song (and, yes, unofficial remix) must be cleared for this type of usage. Theoretically, Dubset's technology would not only clear the songs in the mix, but it would be able to do so in 15 minutes. A Beats 1 set could be available to stream on Apple Music within thirty minutes of its broadcast. Voilà. And I'd wager Spotify has similar ambitions.

Previously and Previously and Previously

The Gated Reverb Conundrum

Do I know someone over at Vox? Perhaps there's some psychic mind-link? I ask because the music topics the site covers in its ongoing video series are coming from my unbeknownst internal wishlist.

I mean, here's an eight-and-a-half minute video on gated reverb. Holy cats.

Okay, so we've got to talk a little bit about music production trends. These trends represent sounds, styles, and motifs that, at best, enhance a song and, at worst, shackle the recording with the baggage of its era. This is a prison where the Yamaha DX-7 electric piano serves jail time with the drum n' bass time-stretch. The gated reverb drum part is in a curious place as past uses of this technique do often sound dated, but also curiously contemporary in some examples.

I think that Peter Gabriel's use of the technique still holds up (listen to "I Have The Touch"). This may be due to the artist's objective. I always believed Gabriel embraced the gated sound not for trendiness but because it evoked the big tribal drums that shaped his rhythmic fascinations. In this way, the huge drum parts create an uncanny overlay to his songs. This reminds me of Jon Hassell's definition of fourth world music: "unified primitive/futuristic sound combining features of world ethnic styles with advanced electronic techniques."

Notwithstanding a period's technological limitations, if an artist makes production choices that are evocative and intentional, as opposed to 'on trend,' there's a better chance for the music to have persistence. In the case of the gated drum, Gabriel and his cronies helped set the trend, but you get the picture.

On the other hand, you get the preponderance of heavily gated kits (kick drums included, yikes) that overtook some strains of '80s electronic music and a couple of Cocteau Twins albums. Of course, much of this is enjoyable, and there's nothing necessarily wrong with being anchored to a particular era of music production. But the key is to be mindful. I'm not convinced Cocteau Twins would have gated the kick drum if they were making those records now, but I'm sure Phil Collins would still add the reverb to the drums of today's "In The Air Tonight."

Vox notes gated reverb is being rediscovered by modern producers and is trendy again. I can't say I would have noticed at first as these productions are so processed overall. And I think there's a distinct difference to those using the technique to fill out the aesthetic vision of the song and those looking to evoke 'that '80s sound.' Both processes are intentional, but the passing years will tell if they are timeless (or, unstuck in time, as the case may be).

I ran across the blog Songs From So Deep which provides some closing thoughts on the subject:

This is the thing. Production fashions are an arms race. This is how it happened last time gated reverb was the thing. One artist does something, the next one repeats it but takes it further, everyone piles in until a point is reached where someone says, OK, enough, and sets their own trend.

When I was a teenager in the mid-1990s, listening to contemporary rock music and forming my own tastes and preferences, nothing could have sounded older, more tasteless or garish to me than a big, gated-reverb drum sound. It was the preserve of poodle-haired corporate metal bands. Later on when I’d grown up a bit, I had to train myself to put those objections aside, to listen past the obvious signifiers and give the music a fair hearing. But nevertheless, my tastes were formed in the era they were formed in, and despite this being the sound of the popular music of my childhood, it’s not my sound. Perhaps the folks making these records are too young to have these hang-ups.

Side Note: Susan Rogers is interviewed for the Vox video. That gives me an opportunity to highly recommend this interview with Rogers over at Tape Op. It's one of the best production-related behind-the-scenes interviews I've ever read. A must for Prince fans, too.

Destroying the Perfect

On the Building New Law podcast, Seth Godin had this to say:

We always destroy the perfect before we enable the impossible. For example, sonically CDs are not as good as vinyl, and MP3s are not as good as CDs. But this degradation is necessary to get to the technological point of 'every song in your pocket,' and audio quality will someday catch up.

And we've seen it before. The eight-track tape: sounded like crap but you could play it in your car. Then came the cassette, also crappy but you could go for a run with a Walkman at your hip. Compact discs eventually improved the quality and kept the mobility. But there's another level of convenience that no one anticipated, which is the convenience of library and access. This facet was the promise of "every song in your pocket," and that means it was a step back to move forward, courtesy of relatively lo-fi MP3s.


Are we now at the technological point of 'catch up' Godin mentions? For many of us, the bandwidth is now there, and bandwidth has been the primary constraint. Is it time to seriously upgrade our stereo systems for streaming? From BBC News:

Qobuz, along with rivals Tidal and Deezer Elite, offers streaming of "lossless audio" that throws nothing away.

"Is MP3 as interesting as it was ten years ago? Not really, because bandwidth has improved," says Malcolm Ouzeri, head of marketing at French streaming and download provider Qobuz, founded in 2007. "Now the industry is going towards more quality."

The highest quality MP3 has a bit-rate of 320kbps, while a hi-res file can go as high as 9,216kbps. Music CDs are transferred at 1,411kbps.

There is also talk of Spotify launching a lossless audio option. Some users report seeing this option in limited test cases. And then there's the adoption of the LUFS standard by Spotify and other streamers, showing a renewed attention to sound quality. But many of these services make hi-res an add-on option. The rumor is that Spotify's hi-res audio will be available as part of a more expensive monthly plan, as Tidal currently offers. A Qobuz 'highest quality' subscription is presently £349.99 a year.

I'm not sure if hi-res audio will make an impact as long as it's seen as an add-on for those with extra change to spare. Even the option titles – such as Deezer Elite – make hi-res seem elitist. I don't know what the additional costs are to the providers, but it will be wonderful to finally enter a world where hi-res audio is a sole and affordable option as bandwidth grows and accelerates. Once we've arrived, the only ticket for entry will be our choice of speakers.

Decoding a Pocket Symphony

Posted by the Polyphonic YouTube channel, this video essay illustrates all the remarkable things that happen in the three minutes and thirty-nine seconds that comprise The Beach Boys' "Good Vibrations." It is remarkable when the details get laid out: the convention-defying sections of the song, the ingenious chord combinations, the metamorphosing moods and transitions, even how the deceptively simple lyrics reveal a deeper meaning. "Good Vibrations" is indeed a "pocket symphony."


The making of "Good Vibrations" was unprecedented for any kind of recording, with a total production cost estimated between $50,000 and $75,000 (equivalent to $370,000 and $550,000 in 2016). Building upon the multi-layered approach he had formulated with Pet Sounds, Wilson recorded the song in different sections at four Hollywood studios from February to September 1966, resulting in a cut-up mosaic of several musical episodes marked by disjunctive key and modal shifts. It contained previously untried mixes of instruments, including jaw harp and Electro-Theremin, and it was the first pop hit to have a cello playing juddering rhythms.

Its title derived from Wilson's fascination with cosmic vibrations, after his mother once told him as a child that dogs sometimes bark at people in response to their "bad vibrations". He used the concept to suggest extrasensory perception, while Love's lyrics were inspired by the Flower Power movement that was then burgeoning in Southern California.

The instrument that steals the show in "Good Vibrations" is more often than not mistakenly referred to as a theremin. Kudos to Polyphonic for initially calling the instrument on the recording by its actual name: the Electro-Theremin. He gets it wrong the second time around, though.

From an article about this instrument via NPR:

… in the 1950s, trombonist Paul Tanner and an amateur inventor named Bob Whitsell made an instrument that made sounds similar to Leon Theremin's creation, but made it a lot simpler for non-experts to hit specific notes and control the volume.

Tanner's instrument — like the theremin — was used in science fiction films and a very popular television show from the early 1960s called My Favorite Martian. Tanner featured it on his 1958 album, Music for Heavenly Bodies. The few people who bought The Beach Boys' Pet Sounds when it came out in May of 1966 would have heard Tanner's instrument on the song "I Just Wasn't Made For These Times." But in the autumn of that year, every American teenager heard that weird sci-fi sound on every AM pop radio station, when Paul Tanner performed his Electro-Theremin with The Beach Boys on "Good Vibrations."

One more observation: near the end of the video I found myself thinking, "Wow, Brian Wilson did look exactly like Paul Dano." Then I realized that was Paul Dano. Sneaky.

My Every Day Album Discovery Routine

I was recently asked, "what are you listening to these days?" I explained that I listen to a lot, and it's because every day I aim to listen to an album I've never heard before.

A couple of years ago I was writing a 'best of' list and came up short for my top ten favorite albums of that year. I realized I didn't listen to a lot of new music and that made me feel stale. Of all people, especially in my line of work, I should be on top of what's new. And one of my most enjoyed pastimes is discovering new music.

I made a pact to listen to an album a day, and one I had not heard before. It doesn't have to be a 'new' album, just new to me. Bonus points if I'm not familiar with the album artist, too. I keep track of my progress by posting the day's album on my Twitter feed and my personal Facebook page. I'll often add short commentary and post a link to an informative review or article about the work.

Digital streaming powers this process. Spotify is my personal choice, and the freedom I have to check out and discover new albums is exhilarating. It's also addictive. And I know your next question: how do I find a new album a day?

I get my money's worth out of my Spotify subscription fee as I'm using the service almost non-stop. Because of this, Spotify knows my taste well, and its suggestions are usually spot-on. My Discover Weekly playlist is fascinating every time it refreshes. You know the algorithm is doing its job when a song I loved a decade ago but haven't thought of since pops up. And the Discover tab under Browse yields terrific album choices regularly.

However, I like getting outside of my comfort zone. Spotify's choices reflect my taste as the algorithm sees it, and that's cool. But I sometimes want to get outside of my perceived taste and find entirely new (to me) artists and sounds.

So, I pluck titles from the review pages of a few music web sites. The ones I regularly visit:

  • The Quietus - I love that the music The Quietus reviews is all over the place. I never know what I'm going to hear.
  • Resident Advisor - Almost always in the electronic spectrum, RA's album reviews are diverse and filled with treasures, and aren't as dance floor focused as you might think.
  • Pitchfork - I know I'm not supposed to go here, but this is where I find what's new in the broader sense. Relatively mainstream albums rub shoulders with underground gems, and I'm willing to sample it all.

I do have a few rules. I grab an album from the bottom of whichever review list I visit. The ones at the top might not be out yet, thus not available for digital streaming. I'll give any album a chance for two or three songs. If an album doesn't float my boat, I'm not going to listen to the whole thing. I move on and select a new album when a selection doesn't satisfy or pique my interest. When I find an album that I'm into enough to finish, I'll read the review to learn more about it. I'll also do a quick search for the artist and album to see if there's anything else I can glean. Then I'll post it on my pages.

Know that when I post an album on Twitter or Facebook, it's mainly for my benefit. I'm keeping a running tab on what I've been checking out, and I like to look back to see what made a lasting impression on me. I'll listen to those again someday, but only after I've digested something new. If you, the casual onlooker, consider my postings as recommendations and listen along then I'm flattered.

That's the process. An album a day. I've missed days – in fact, I've missed a lot of days lately – as life and travel get in the way. But this has proven to be an enriching practice that I'd like to make into a daily routine. If you also love discovering music, then I'd recommend giving this schtick a try.

Side note: Here I am on Spotify. I don't make my listening private, so you are welcome to see what I'm checking out in real time. I'm also proud of the playlists I put together and would love for you to give them a go.

Songwriters Getting Paid as the Robots Listen

There are a few options for businesses to legally play music on premises, whether that business is, say, a nightclub, restaurant, or hair salon. An in-store music service like Mood Media (formerly Muzak) can supply channels of pre-cleared tunes for a subscription fee. These services are like radio in most cases, as the business won't be able to choose any particular song that's played. The business could also just play music by friends and enter into a direct licensing agreement with each songwriter. That would be a huge hassle and dramatically limit the available catalog.

The most popular option is to pay for the compulsory licenses offered by the performance rights organizations – PROs like ASCAP, BMI, and SESAC. These licenses allow the business to play songs represented by each PRO. A few factors determine the fee, such as venue capacity, and the business usually obtains a license from all the PROs. For one thing, it's a lot of work to determine which PRO represents a song the venue wants to play, and the music customers would like to hear are distributed amongst all the rights organizations. Paying fees to all creates full coverage and the freedom to play whatever you'd like.

A venue's requirement to get a compulsory license is one of the most misunderstood aspects of music publishing. The venues themselves especially misunderstand this requirement. I've spoken to many business owners who don't understand why they have to pay for such a license. The phrase "it's nothing but a shakedown" is used on more than one occasion. But the simple fact is this: if your business is profiting off of someone else's music – and playing music to enhance your business qualifies – then the songwriters should get a cut of some sort.

There is another argument made by business owners that I find harder to dispute. Nightclub owners often argue that the fees they pay to the PROs aren't going to the songwriters whose songs they are playing. This statement is often true. Presently, the PROs have no way to track the songs played in their licensed venues. The businesses could submit a list of all the songs played in a day, but no one is going to do that. Instead, the PROs pool the collected fees and distribute the royalty to songwriters they assume are the ones getting played the most. In other words, popular songwriters, for the most popular songs.

I can empathize, as I DJ'ed hundreds of times exclusively at underground clubs and very few of the songwriters I played (if any) ever saw a penny. I've heard tales of clubs in some territories tackling the problem by having the DJs write down all the songs from their sets. I guess it's the thought that counts, but this is obviously an unreliable and haphazard solution.

There's a change coming, though. Advances in audio recognition are making song tracking in venues possible. Using technology popularized by the likes of Shazam, songs get identified and, in turn, the appropriate songwriters paid. From a story in Complete Music Update:

Collecting societies PPL and PRS For Music have confirmed that they are expanding a pilot project to test the use of music recognition technology in clubs, pubs, bars and hotels to monitor what music is being played in those spaces.

Peter Marks {CEO of UK clubbing chain The Deltic Group} has welcomed the pilot, saying: “Music is the very heartbeat of our business and it’s in our interest to see that talented artists are rewarded for their creations. With online streaming and other digital technology, it’s increasingly difficult for songwriters and musicians to make a living from their creations, so anything we can do to help and attract and support the latest local talent has to be a good thing”.

I believe GEMA in Germany has also been testing this out.

The ramifications are enormous and welcome; accurate tracking in venues (and eventually across other outlets such as radio and sporting events) will create a great benefit for non-mainstream songwriters.

It remains to be seen if US PROs might look to adopt this technology. The fact that there are multiple PROs in this country may prove to be a stumbling block. A device that listens, identifies songs, and sends data to the PROs would have to be installed in every participating venue. It would be a hassle if each PRO had its own device for every business to install. Could they agree on one shared device? Part of me thinks it unlikely as the US PROs are fiercely competitive. That said, the recent news of ASCAP and BMI collbaorating on a musical works database gives us a glimmer of hope.

The US is often the country left behind when it comes to advances in rights management. Let's hope our industry is proactive in embracing this technology solution to a longstanding problem.

The Upside of Music Piracy

For a legacy act, taking a nuanced stance on the effects of music piracy is surprising and somewhat brave. But that's what Def Leppard guitarist Vivian Campbell is doing in a recent interview with Ultimate Classic Rock:

“The way the band works is quite extraordinary. In recent years, we’ve been really fortunate that we’ve seen this new surge in our popularity. For the most part, that’s fueled by younger people coming to the shows,” Campbell said. “We’ve been seeing it for the last 10, 12 or 15 years, you’d notice younger kids in the audience, but especially in the last couple of years, it’s grown exponentially. I really do believe that this is the upside of music piracy.”

Techdirt has some thoughts:

This is the part of music obtained freely that never gets mentioned: the multiplier effect it has on a bands relevance and longevity. This isn't to say that such a model works for every band in every instance, but it's refreshing to see an artist step back and try to get the full picture of what's really going on here. It would be quite easy for someone like Campbell to see the young faces in his audience and never give a second thought to how those younger fans got to a Def Leppard concert. By taking an intelligent look at that question, however, Campbell has reached a place where he's found a friend where he might have seen an enemy.

It is extraordinary how attitudes are changing across the board as larger artists begin to find advantage in the new music paradigm. (When it comes to topics like this, I wonder how much influence Bob Lefsetz is having on classic rockers.) The only question I might have: is music piracy still a concern when it comes to younger audiences? Are teenagers and fans in their 20s still downloading files? As statistics show streaming gaining traction at an accelerating rate, one might assume Daniel Ek's mission to eliminate piracy might be paying off.

Another side of the coin: Def Leppard are active on YouTube and engage on social media, regularly posting new content, which is also rare for a legacy band. Though Campbell's perspective is refreshing, he may be off-base about the reality of what is mostly driving young fans to his band's concerts.

Update: Music 3.0 blog also asks Does Music Piracy Still Exist In The Age Of Streaming?

'Ways of Hearing' Explores Listening in the Digital Age

I'm excited about this new Radiotopia podcast named Showcase. Mostly because the first season consists of the six part series Ways Of Hearing, hosted by Damon Krukowski who you may know as the drummer for Galaxie 500 and a member of Damon & Naomi.

Apparently inspired and culled from Damon's recent book The New Analog, Ways Of Hearing explores how listening has changed as audio delivery moves from analog to digital. It looks to go much deeper than that, touching on subjects like modern changes in the sharing of information and how audio affects our sense of time. So far the podcast doesn't go down the tired analog vs. digital rabbit hole, and I don't expect that it will. Listen to the first episode HERE.

On a side note: certain bands or songs send waves of melancholy down the spine. For me, Galaxie 500 is one of those bands. When "Tugboat" starts playing in the first episode of this podcast I'm overcome with tingles. The song evokes a time and a place, an overwhelming nostalgia, a part of my life (my early 20s) filled with loneliness and sadness. I recorded a Galaxie 500 copycat song, complete with my imitation of Dean Wareham's first album wail, and played it for a girl I liked. She asked me why I was so sad and then I never heard from her again.

And if you'd like to read the harrowing tale of a great band dissolving then you should check out this oral history of Galaxie 500 on Pitchfork.

Update: If you're having trouble listening from the player on the show's site then try this player on PRX's page.

The Rhythmic Surprise of Syncopation

Treat yourself to this ten minute explanation of syncopation, using the deceivingly complex rhythmic basis of Radiohead's "Videotape" as its example. "Videotape" is my favorite of the Radiohead 'dirge' songs but what I didn't realize is that it actually grooves at a very un-dirge-like 155 BPM.

Vox has been on fire with their videos for a while now. I watch them all. Check more of their output HERE.

If You Are Losing the Game, Best to Change the Rules

Ben Thompson for Stratechery:

The long-rumored competitor to Amazon Echo and Google Home was, fascinatingly, framed as anything but. {Tim} Cook began the unveiling by referencing Apple’s longtime focus on music, and indeed, the first several minutes of the HomePod were entirely about its quality as a speaker. It was, in my estimation, an incredibly smart approach: if you are losing the game, as Siri is to Alexa and Google, best to change the rules, and having heard the HomePod, its sound quality is significantly better than the Amazon Echo (and, one can safely assume, Google Home). Moreover, the ability to link multiple HomePods together is bad news for Sonos in particular (the HomePod sounded significantly better than the Sonos Play 3 as well).

Of course, superior sound quality is what you would expect from a significantly more expensive speaker: the HomePod costs $350, while the Sonos Play 3 is $300, and the Amazon Echo is $150. From Apple’s perspective, though, a high price is a feature, not a bug: remember, the company has a hardware-based business model, which means there needs to be room for a meaningful margin.

The result is a product that, beyond being massively late to market, is inferior to the competition on two of three possible vectors: the HomePod is significantly more expensive than an Echo or Google Home, it has an inferior voice assistant, but it has a better speaker. That is not as bad as it sounds: after all, the iPhone is significantly more expensive than most other smartphones, it has inferior built-in services, but it has a superior user experience otherwise. The difference — and this is why the iPhone is so much more dominant than any other Apple product — is that everyone already needs a phone; the only question is which one. It remains to be seen how many people need a truly impressive speaker.

Coming from a music industry POV, an emphasis on sound quality as a feature – as it applies to music playback – is a great move and may even raise the bar for competitors' forthcoming hardware. I look forward to personally assessing just how good this HomePod speaker sounds, and find it fascinating that the HomePod has been successfully positioned so that the sound quality is what I'm mostly curious about.

Hitting the Links: Music's Technological History, Repetitive Pop Lyrics, and Peter Saville

Technology In Music: A Chronological Playlist Through History:

Let’s start from from the beginning, in 1937: a timeless feel – eerie and alienating at times, permeates ‘Oraison’ by French composer Olivier Messiaen. The song was originally written for an ensemble of early electronic musical keyboards called Ondes Martenot. The Ondes Martenot is a very expressive instrument, meeting Messiaen’s avant-garde composition techniques. If you’re expecting beat drops you may want to keep in mind the release date.

Peter Saville On His Album Cover Artwork:

{Saville on New Order’s Technique cover:} It was a garden ornament and we rented it for the shoot. It’s a very bacchanalian image, which fitted the moment just before the last financial crash and the new drug-fuelled hedonism involved in the music scene. It’s also my first ironic work: all the previous sleeves were in some way idealistic and utopian. I’d had this idea that art and design could make the world a better place. That even bus stops could be better.

Are Pop Lyrics Getting More Repetitive?:

In 1977, the great computer scientist Donald Knuth published a paper called The Complexity of Songs, which is basically one long joke about the repetitive lyrics of newfangled music (example quote: "the advent of modern drugs has led to demands for still less memory, and the ultimate improvement of Theorem 1 has consequently just been announced”). I'm going to try to test this hypothesis with data. I'll be analyzing the repetitiveness of a dataset of 15,000 songs that charted on the Billboard Hot 100 between 1958 and 2017.

Forgotten Tributes: 25 Monumental Relics of Yugoslavia:

If you were to travel today through the area that was once Yugoslavia, you would come across some incredible massive objects that allow an unexpected look directly into the area’s past. Before dissolving into several smaller countries in the 1990s, Yugoslavia became home to a number of large-scale futuristic monuments.

Gary Vaynerchuk on Impact Theory (Podcast):

I think that Steve Jobs came along {and} became an icon, but the sad part of that narrative was he did not treat his employees well. He became an icon and the narrative became he got the most out of people by being a jerk, and that became romanticized. And a lot of people in Silicon Valley today run companies where they're mean because they think that's the right thing to do because they put Steve Jobs on a pedestal. I want to become that big {but} what I want to come from that is that kids that aren't even born today think that they can build a five billion dollar company and {still} be a great guy or a great gal. I want to build the biggest building in town ever by just building the biggest building in town, while I think most people try to tear down everyone else's building.

Cranking the Wheel


"Spotify playlists, and Spotify charts, and Spotify plays, have become the number one tool that labels and artists and managers are using in order to break artists and measure success," said industry analyst Mark Mulligan, speaking to Wired earlier this year. "If you get things working on Spotify, that's going to crank the wheel." Anyone who's opened Spotify and found themselves clicking on their Daily Mix playlist, or fired up the app's Discovery Weekly playlist already knows this. The app, and the impact of its playlist placements, are now an almost unspoken reality of the industry's digital growth.

And so we come to this week's news, of Spotify playing coy about what determines the song of the summer. In a blogpost published on Wednesday, the streaming service's US team announced a – you guessed it – playlist of the tracks that they "predict" will soundtrack your BBQs, house parties and whatever other photogenic events you'll be attending in the sunshine. "To create this year's Songs of Summer predictions," they wrote, "Spotify tapped the insights of its genre and trend experts, analysed its streaming data and considered factors such as a song's performance on the charts, on key Spotify playlists and how it's performing over time. The team also factored in buzz on social media to create a list of songs perfect for essential summer moments."

At a glance you'd look at this and think, 'oh cool, Spotify are predicting the future. That's fun! They're fun!' But when you take a closer look, a couple of issues become clear. First, that you walk right into a chicken-and-egg situation. Do songs chart well because it's been playlisted dominantly, and thus listened to by lots of people on Spotify? Or does it make that Spotify playlist position because it's performing well on the charts? We don't know about those inner workings within Spotify. But it's bizarre for the company to both aggressively use reams of data to thrust certain songs under our noses, then act as though it doesn't consequently set the agenda for what casual music listeners grow to like.

Music as Data, and the Wisdom of the Crowd

The Conversation:

The Musical Genome, the algorithm behind Pandora, sifts through 450 pieces of information about the sound of a recording. For example, a song might feature the drums as being one of the loudest components of the sound, compared to other features of the recording. That measurement is a piece of data that can be incorporated into the larger model. Pandora uses these data to help listeners find music that is similar in sound to what they have enjoyed in the past.

This approach upends the 20th-century assumptions of genre. For example, a genre such as classic rock can become monolithic and exclusionary. Subjective decisions about what is and isn’t “rock” have historically been sexist and racist.

With Pandora, the sound of a recording becomes much more influential. Genre is only one of 450 pieces of information that’s being used to classify a song, so if it sounds like 75 percent of rock songs, then it likely counts as rock.

Meanwhile, Shazam began as an idea that turned sound into data. The smartphone app takes an acoustic fingerprint of song’s sound to reveal the artist, song title and album title of the recording. When a user holds his phone toward a speaker playing a recording, he quickly learns what he is hearing.

The listening habits of Shazam’s 120 million active users can be viewed in real time, by geographic location. The music industry now can learn how many people, when they heard a particular song, wanted to know the name of the singer and artist. It gives real-time data that can shape decisions about how – and to whom – songs are marketed, using the preferences of the listeners. Derek Thompson, a journalist who has examined data’s affects on the music industry, has suggested that Shazam has shifted the power of deciding hits from the industry to the wisdom of a crowd.