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Time Magazine
5 days ago
- Entertainment
- Time Magazine
The History of Music Copyright—Before (Taylor's Version)
Taylor Swift wrote a letter to her fans announcing that she had finally secured ownership of the original master recordings for her entire catalog. It's the culmination of her efforts to gain full control of the copyright in her work. Rights to her catalog—including hugely successful albums like Fearless, Red, and 1989 —were purchased by a music industry mogul without her consent in June 2019. Although her legal team was unable to stop the sale, Swift won the high ground in the court of public opinion by arguing that such an action was morally wrong. In the process, she has achieved something unique in the history of American popular music. The pop star's efforts to control her master recordings has been an element of her ongoing advocacy for artist rights. The intricacies of publishing, licensing, and rights ownership in the modern music industry are quite complex. Though copyright may be law in one sense, public perception and popular opinion effect how the law is enforced in practice. The history of American popular music shows that the degree of agency an unsigned artist has to negotiate terms with industry representation can be profoundly affected by their class, race, and gender. Very few artists will ever reach the level of popularity and profitability that Swift enjoys, but by raising public discourse about music copyright she has helped to reinvigorate conversations about the value of music. Copyright protection for 'Authors and Inventors' is enshrined in the U.S. Constitution, which highlights the importance the framers placed upon encouraging creativity and innovation. Congress passed the first copyright act in 1790 protecting any 'map, chart, book, or books,' which allowed authors the sole right to profit from the sale of their work for a limited time after which it would enter the public domain. Congress expanded copyright in 1802 to account for new advances in print technology and visual mediums. Interestingly, sheet music, which had existed for centuries, was not added to the list of protectable mediums until 1831. In truth, there was relatively little music generating revenue for copyright to protect in early America. That began to change when a 20-year-old Stephen Foster composed 'Oh! Susanna' in the late 1840s. The song was an unprecedented hit, selling well over 100,000 copies in multiple editions. Foster failed to properly register and protect his interests and made next to nothing off the song. Despite enjoying numerous fair and favorable contracts throughout his career. Foster never learned how to capitalize financially on the public success of his songs and he died penniless in 1864. The popularity of Foster's songs demonstrated that there was money to be made in American music, and publishing houses observed how songwriters could be easily taken advantage of in the process. Beginning with Tin Pan Alley at the turn of the 20th century, the music industry professionalized rapidly. Composers and songwriters, despite creating the product that generated income, became increasingly separated from the business of music. Record label executives, music publishers, lawyers, agents, and other professionals handled the paperwork and managed the money. While some songwriters like Irving Berlin also learned the business side of music, such cases were the exception, not the rule. Consider the career of Berlin's contemporary Woody Guthrie. Guthrie did not have access to the kinds of industry support more mainstream artists had, but he did have access to his local library. In 1937, he researched the copyright registration process on his own, sent in the required documentation along with a one-dollar fee to register 'California!,' and even asked the Copyright Office to send guidance about registration best practices. The Copyright Office responded promptly with an official registration certificate for 'California!,' several blank application cards, and instructions for how to optimize future registrations. This process was time consuming, however. Guthrie's transient lifestyle and prolific output meant that much of his catalog was not registered or managed properly. The copyright claim in Guthrie's most famous song, ' This Land is Your Land,' has been contested by artists and content creators looking to use the song in new ways. Rather than to maximize profitability, Guthrie's heirs have used copyright primarily to keep the song from being appropriated by commercial and political interests that are in direct opposition to his worldview. The key ethical question of copyright, like so many areas of the law, is not just about what rights are granted. It is about how the power granted by those rights gets wielded in practice. Over the course of the 20th century, many popular musicians like Chuck Berry and John Fogerty signed away their rights early in their careers, missing the full financial rewards when they later made it big. For many, accepting unfavorable terms had been their only option to break into the industry. Fogerty was famously sued by his former label and bandmates for sounding too much like himself when he went solo in 1972. Fogerty recently announced that, at the age of 80, he will be recording a (John's Version) album of his Greatest Hits, in a nod to Swift's success with the strategy. Before Swift's triumph, Prince is probably the artist who most skillfully used cultural influence to leverage their rights. When his label claimed a trademark in the rights to his name and all music marketed under it, he changed his name to an unpronounceable symbol until his contract with them expired in 2000. Similarly, much of Swift's success has come from relying more on public relations than litigation to assert her ownership. Inspired by a viral social media post from Kelly Clarkson, Swift began the process of rerecording her early work in November 2020. But that strategy only worked because she was also able to motivate her fans to choose (Taylor's Version) albums on streaming platforms and even to repurchase her rerecorded work on CD, cassette, and vinyl. Including bonus material and other incentives was certainly part of the strategy, but the level of fan involvement in policing the (Taylor's Version) transition has reached levels that are difficult to explain by marketing tactics alone. Swift's efforts to take legal control of her songwriting catalog have significantly raised the level of discourse about copyright law in popular culture. They have also provided a high-profile challenge to the trope of the struggling artist that has creative abilities but lacks savvy business skills. Swift's management of her career has been touted as a model to reduce the structural inefficiencies in music licensing and broadcasting, to promote equity sharing with record labels, and to give artists in general more control over their creative work. After her rerecording venture was so successful, some major labels have sought to add language to future contracts preventing that outcome. But to do so, they will have to navigate the fact that artists are more aware of the value that they bring in the post-(Taylor's Version) Era. Jason Lee Guthrie is an Associate Professor of Communication and Media Studies at Clayton State University in Morrow, GA. His research explores the intersections of creativity and economics, with a focus on copyright in the creative industries.
The Irish Sun
17-05-2025
- Entertainment
- The Irish Sun
Eurovision winner looks like he hasn't aged a day 16 years after winning show
THIS Eurovision champ looks like he hasn't aged a day - 16 years after winning the show. The final for the 6 This Eurovision star won the show for Norway Credit: Instagram / @rybakofficial 6 The star is known for playing the violin Credit: Instagram / @rybakofficial 6 Alexander Rybak looks like he hasn't aged a day - seen here when he won Eurovision 2009 Credit: Getty 6 The star looks exactly the same 16 years on - seen here in 2025 Credit: Instagram / @rybakofficial The singer, who's act also sees him playing the violin, was just 23 when he scooped the Song Contest crown. He stole the show with his hugely popular song Fairytale, which saw him sweep the scoreboard. Alexander broke all previous records with his score of 387 points. Read more on Eurovision The track topped the charts once he won, and his album Fairytales was released in 25 countries. Speaking about the song that helped him win, Alexander told the 'It's essentially an old-fashioned oom-pah tune with Tin Pan Alley chords, but people called it a 'modern tune' because I believed in it in the here and now. "I will be forever grateful for the people who stream it and show it to their friends, so that it may live on and be discovered by new generations.' Most read in Celebrity health Alexander has returned to Eurovision several times over the years. He has appeared on several interval medleys and even appeared as himself in the Netflix comedy Eurovision Song Contest: The Story Of Fire Saga. Rylan makes VERY awkward gaffe during first live Eurovision semi-final Alexander also competed again 2018, with the song That's How You Write a Song. This time he placed 15th with 144 points. HOST PULLS OUT Meanwhile, yesterday it was revealed how the BBC were forced to find a replacement after one of the UK's The Beeb shared a statement that said 6 Ncuti Gatwa pulled out of Eurovision at the last minute Credit: Getty The much-loved star is instead being replaced by The BBC said: "Due to unforeseen circumstances, unfortunately "However, we are delighted to confirm that BBC Radio 2's very own Friday night Kitchen Disco Diva A thrilled Sophie said: 'I love Eurovision and it's a privilege to be part of 2025's Grand Final. 6 Sophie Ellis-Bextor will replace him on the show Credit: Instagram/BBC Press office "What an honour it is to announce the UK's jury score on such a special show which always puts music front and centre. "I am very much looking forward to delivering the iconic douze points from the United Kingdom !' GRAHAM RETURNS Fans will be pleased to know that Graham Norton returns to provide his witty commentary for tonight. The national treasure took over from the late Eurovision will kick off this evening at in Basel, Switzerland at 8pm on BBC One. Everything you need to know about Eurovision Here's your complete guide to all things Eurovision: Who was How to host a How many times has How much is Graham Norton paid and what's his When has Eurovision
The Guardian
26-01-2025
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
Alex Kapranos: ‘It took me a few years to realise that I didn't have to drink everything on the rider'
Alex Kapranos has been a regular at Le Pantruche since he made Paris his most regular home two or three years ago, following his marriage to French singer-songwriter Clara Luciani. The bistro is a 1930s fantasy of a neighbourhood restaurant in Pigalle, set among the guitar shops of the city's equivalent of Tin Pan Alley or Denmark Street: a dozen tables and a well-stocked bar crowded into a tiny shopfront room; today's wines by the glass chalked on a board (nothing over €10); a menu that changes according to what seasonal flavours chef Franck Baranger is excited about cooking; casually stylish regulars who all seem to know Martin, waiter and maitre d', by name. Kapranos was introduced to the restaurant by the producer of Franz Ferdinand's new album, who has a studio round the corner. He loves it here for many reasons, he says, but specifically for the everyday miracle of its Grand Marnier souffle. Before he was a rock star, Kapranos was a chef himself, most notably at Glasgow's outpost of London's Groucho Club, Saint Judes, so he knows what's involved. 'At Saint Judes, we used to do this thing called an inside-out chocolate pudding,' he says. 'When it was perfectly executed, you had this wonderful light crust a bit like a cannoli. And then you would just tap it gently, and the whole thing would collapse in on itself and this gooey, delicious chocolate would ooze out. But to get it right was literally a margin of about 10 seconds of cooking. And if you fucked it up, that meant you had to start again. We didn't even try souffles – but when they do them perfectly each time here, I'm still just awestruck.' When they weren't making chocolate puddings, Kapranos and eventual Franz Ferdinand bass player Bob Hardy, who did shifts alongside him in the kitchen at Saint Judes, would talk about their plans for the band, which was always as much a kind of conceptual art project – Hardy was also an artist – as a pop group. Twenty-four years later, happily, they are still having those same conversations, Kapranos says. Food and music have been inseparable pleasures in his life. For a year or two when Franz Ferdinand first threatened to become the number-one indie band in the world (after their eponymous debut album won the Mercury prize and a Grammy nomination) Kapranos wrote a fabulous food diary in the Guardian, detailing the band's search for a decent dinner while on tour in Osaka or Buenos Aires or Austin, Texas. He hasn't given up that quest. The band have just returned from Mexico where they have been playing gigs alongside the Killers, who are old mates. Kapranos took the advantage of days off to spend time in local food markets, sampling 50 different types of chilli – 'regional Mexican food is just as complex as French or Italian cooking'. In Mexico the band's set included tracks from their new album, The Human Fear. As with Franz Ferdinand's previous five albums, it has their trademark sharp guitar edges and lyrical surprise, but is also full of adventurous musical experiment. One such excursion is the song Black Eyelashes, which is Kapranos's homage to the Greek roots of his paternal family – 'I finally get to play bouzouki on a record'. In some ways, that song represents a return to first principles: in the early days of the band, Kapranos shared his passion for rebetiko – the traditional Greek street music of the urban poor – with Nick McCarthy, the band's former guitarist. One scheme had been to create a rebetiko band that ran in parallel with Franz Ferdinand. 'Just before the pandemic,' Kapranos says, 'I'd come out of a very long relationship, had a bit of time on my own, and went over to Greece just to kind of find my Greekness. I was going record shopping and just walking the streets and eating in the restaurants and talking to people, and that song, Black Eyelashes – a rebetiko motif – came from that.' The song toys with the idea of identity, with the questions Kapranos gets asked – 'you're not really Greek' – when trying to explain his inheritance of his Geordie mother's blond hair. 'It's that experience a lot of children of immigrants have when they return to the place their grandparents live,' he says, 'of never truly belonging anywhere.' He sent the song to a friend who is a rebetiko expert for her opinion. 'She liked it,' he says, with a laugh, 'but said it didn't sound Greek at all – which I guess articulated exactly what the song was about.' He had brief qualms – 'Oh, fuck am I being like Ed Sheeran doing that Irish song' – but reminded himself that purist authenticity, when it comes to music – or food, or life – is overrated. 'I remember when I was a kid in Edinburgh,' he says, 'one of my best friend's big brothers was a mod, and was always giving me these big lectures on what made a real mod, and criticising you for wearing the wrong type of Sta Prest trousers, or whatever.' Franz Ferdinand took influences from everywhere – Britpop, 1980s post-punk, Russian constructivism, Talking Heads, Raymond Carver, Kapranos's dad's history of playing Buddy Holly tunes in South Shields working men's clubs, his uncle's bouzouki playing. He still loves the mystery of songwriting that mines that subconscious jukebox. Watching Paul McCartney find the chords to Get Back in Peter Jackson's Beatles documentary was a perfect demonstration of that, he says. 'Writing a song reminds me of, like, how I imagine a mole navigates underground. You can't see anything, but you're poking your nose in different places till you find, OK, that's a direction it can go. So much of it is accidental. You think about it for ages and suddenly a bassline you wrote in 1996 pops into your head: 'Yeah, I can use that thing there.'' Because he came to fame quite late – he was 30 before Franz Ferdinand released a single – I'm guessing Kapranos was a bit more level-headed about the craziness that came their way than he might have been – and can cope with it better now? 'Probably. I think if that kind of fame happens to you when you're young, it's very tempting to just presume that you were always somehow special and chosen. Whereas if, like me, you had spent the previous 10 years working as a chef, a dishwasher, a welder, delivery driver, barman, then you kind of know how fragile all that shit is.' He laughs. 'But that's not to say I didn't try to drink everything that was suddenly available to me. It really is very much in the Glasgow psyche. It took me quite a few years to realise that I didn't actually have to drink everything on the rider before anyone else could.' He's been reminded of those wilder nights on the road in the last sleepless year, since his son was born. He and Luciani had been moving between Scotland and London, but now they are based pretty much full-time here – trying to get some kip. When he is not escaping for a few hours to the studio, Kapranos can often be found in the kitchen. Is he an ambitious cook? 'Occasionally I'll get it into my head that I need to master a particular thing,' he says. 'One year, we were having Christmas in Paris, and Clara liked the idea of a beef wellington. I read everything I could online trying to understand what the principle of the perfect beef wellington is, and then thought maybe what I would add to it. I practised two or three times. And then on Christmas, they kind of go, wow. But once I feel I can do something like that well, I never really want to do it again.' The exceptions, he says, are the foods he had when he visited family in Piraeus as a child. Meals there were very loud, very communal and very unlike what you had in the UK. 'My grandfather used to make amazing gemista, stuffed peppers, or kofte lamb meatballs. In Greek cooking, they use a lot of cinnamon and mint and lemon, flavours you can spend a lifetime getting right.' What about Paris – he must love its markets? 'Absolutely,' he says. 'And there are other things. As someone who didn't grow up in London, I'm always fascinated by the way that people will never make eye contact on the tube. In Paris, it's the opposite. You walk on to the metro and everyone looks you up and down immediately. You can see people thinking, 'Oh yeah, that's a good pair of shoes,' or 'Fuck, I wouldn't wear a jacket like that.' I love that kind of stuff.' And then, of course, there is also the souffle … 'Yes!' he says, 'will you just look at that!' Franz Ferdinand's The Human Fear is out now (Domino)
