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Yahoo
7 days ago
- Business
- Yahoo
Crypto for Advisors: Blockchain and the Music Industry
Blockchain is reshaping industries beyond finance. In this Crypto for Advisors newsletter, we shift focus from traditional investments to explore a disruptive blockchain use case in the music industry. Inder Phull, CEO and Co-Founder of Pixelynx and creator of KOR Protocol, explains how on-chain music rights and royalties are transforming ownership and why this matters for artists and investors. Then, Ronald Elliot Yung from RaveDAO answers questions about these changes and how they impact investments in Ask an Expert. – Unknown block type "divider", specify a component for it in the ` option Remix, Rights & Revenue: Why Onchain Music Infrastructure Is the Future A fundamental shift, redefining how music is protected, managed, and monetized. Introduction: A Broken Symphony The digital revolution has empowered musicians with unprecedented tools to create, collaborate, and reach global audiences. Unfortunately, this rapid evolution has come with its own set of challenges. While the Internet has rewritten the rules of creation, distribution, and consumption, the methods we use to protect and monetize creative content, such as copyright laws, licensing models, and royalty structures, have not kept pace. In this environment, artists struggle to maintain control of their work, with inadequate attribution and a lack of fair compensation. For advisors, you may have clients in the music industry or investors seeking to invest in these assets. Understanding the evolution of this industry could be a strategic advantage as assets move on-chain. The systems that governed the industry were originally designed in a pre-Internet era when the concepts of global digital rights and licences were yet to be considered. We now find ourselves in a situation where TikTok hits are often born from unauthorized samples, AI-generated music is flooding streaming platforms, and artists struggle to make a living. Legal pathways to capitalize on emerging opportunities, such as AI or UGC virality, remain locked behind gatekeepers, legacy contracts, and unclear ownership data. Enter onchain rights infrastructure: a shift that could rewire how we protect, manage, and monetize music. The Problem: Rights Are Fragmented, and Creators Lose There is a reason why music on social media has yet to generate a revenue stream for artists, why the 'Metaverse' lacks music, and why AI is perceived as a threat. Existing copyright systems do not adequately address the complex web of ownership and usage rights associated with modern applications of music, such as remixing or user-generated content on social media platforms. The current complexity costs the industry billions, as this system often leaves creators underpaid and legally vulnerable. Creators are shifting to owner-created content, where they can track the usage of their creations and consumption, and get paid regardless of where their assets are consumed. The Future: Onchain Rights Infrastructure Onchain rights infrastructure redefines the backend of the music industry. It provides rightsholders with undisputed, verifiable ownership of their work, with rights transparently programmed into the registration. This transparency and programmability enable music to move effortlessly across platforms, applications, and media, automatically tracking attribution, verifying provenance, and eliminating the friction of traditional licensing processes. Artists receive payment instantly, and their rights are enforced in real-time. Imagine if every track came with a smart contract, one that listed the rights holders, the ownership percentages, and the licensing terms in code. If you wanted to use the song in a remix, a sync, or a sample, the contract would tell you what's allowed and automatically distribute royalties. That's what on-chain rights infrastructure makes possible. On a blockchain, rights can be: Transparent — anyone can see who owns what Programmable — remix terms, splits, and conditions are encoded Traceable — derivatives and remixes are tracked in real time Compositional — rights become building blocks, not walls If the music industry wants to capitalize on emerging technology and cater to tomorrow's digital consumers, it will need a more agile and forward-looking approach to music rights management and licensing. Onchain rights infrastructure is the answer. Understanding the shift to on-chain rights infrastructure is no longer niche; it's a key part of the future. Whether you're advising IP holders navigating their royalty flows or helping investors explore music IP as an emerging asset class, being fluent in how rights and revenue can be transparently encoded onchain is vital. Just as streaming reshaped consumption models, on-chain infrastructure is reshaping the ownership system; those who understand it early will be best positioned to grow in the evolving digital economy. - Unknown block type "divider", specify a component for it in the ` option Ask an Expert Q. In a world of corporate festivals and algorithm-driven playlists, how can decentralized models enable new music scenes, community leadership, and fan ownership? Music has always thrived in pockets: underground clubs, bedroom producers, DIY scenes. Blockchain now offers a chance to bring these microcultures to the world, placing influence in the hands of those who live the culture, not just those who monetize it. For investors, the upside is early access to untapped cultural capital and the energy of self-organizing communities. Most users still crave experiences, not just technology. No protocol can manufacture authenticity, and it's easy for on-chain 'ownership' to become performative if it's disconnected from what's happening on the ground. The winning models will get the 'local-to-global' flywheel right: using technology to empower people, not just platforms, and ensuring new voices and collectives receive the recognition and support they need before being absorbed by the next algorithmic trend. Q. What persistent problems can blockchain and AI fix in live events, and what's still unsolved for the music economy? Blockchain finally addresses ticket fraud, opaque splits, and the lack of fan ownership in events. On-chain tickets are tamper-proof and traceable, making resale and royalty flows transparent. AI is cutting through noise by personalizing experiences, automating support, and making sense of the huge, messy flood of fan data most venues still ignore. However, technology alone won't solve the music industry's most profound issues. Scene-building, trust, and curation remain deeply human challenges. No blockchain replaces the hustle of earning credibility, or the magic of a local scene bubbling up in defiance of the mainstream. Even the best AI can't spot next year's genre-defining artist without a pulse on culture itself. For investors and advisors, the risk is buying into the illusion that data and automation alone can drive engagement and loyalty. The most compelling opportunities will blend digital tools with real-world understanding, creating systems that empower communities rather than just optimize transactions. Q. What are the blind spots in the current 'Web3 x Music' hype cycle, and where should advisors exercise caution? There's no shortage of pitch decks promising to 'revolutionize' music with tokens and NFTs. But hype alone can't replace authentic connection, or build the grassroots energy that makes festivals last. Advisors should look beyond user counts or Discord noise and ask: Are local communities actually thriving? Is community governance a real process or just a buzzword? Can this model attract and retain both serious talent and loyal fans? The winners will be platforms that treat culture as a living ecosystem, not a quick flip, and that balance on-chain innovation with the off-chain work of building trust. - Unknown block type "divider", specify a component for it in the ` option Keep Reading Charles Schwab CEO says crypto trading is coming soon for clients. President Trump signed the first U.S. cryptocurrency bill into law during 'crypto week'. JP Morgan is planning to offer bitcoin-backed loans. Sign in to access your portfolio
Scroll.in
19-07-2025
- Entertainment
- Scroll.in
‘A New World Romance': Schism between mind and soul forms the crux of this modern meditation on love
In 1955, when Barbara Pym wrote, 'the course of true love or academia never did run smooth', she could not have foreseen how aptly her words would describe Susham Bedi's epic novel, Navabhum ki Ras Katha. Bedi's novel, published in 2002, has been rendered into English from Hindi by the artful Astri Ghosh as A New World Romance. As both the title and Pym's quote suggest, the novel is anchored in romance and academia. And like any academic romance, literary or filmy, it has two professors, Ketaki and Aditya, as its protagonists. The novel is 'the story of two people', and this is how the narrator sets the scene for the readers. However, we are not immediately introduced to them. We await their arrival as the omniscient narrator provides a broad sweep of the likeness and the unlikeness between Navabhum, the New World – or Gaurbhum (the Land of the Fair-complexioned), very much a reference to the US – and Purabhum, the Old World. This comparison assumes a vocabulary of colours, its grammar the various shades of negating or affirming distance in and through love. The narrator meanders, though this wandering is deliberate as if to prompt curiosity and shape the readers' expectations. Love is not a universally rooted emotion, and the narrator talks about the differences in its reception in Navabhum and Purabhum. In Navabhum, love seems plausible and is not absolutely predicated on caste, colour, class, shame, and honour as in Purabhum. The soil of Navabhum seeks to mitigate the distance between lovers, unlike the soil of Purabhum. With this stark contrast, the narrator deftly alludes to the long-narrated tales of Laila-Majnu, Sohni-Mahiwal, and Shakuntala-Dushyant to pronounce how her tale is different from the tragedy of these Purabhum lovers. There is no shame about age since the protagonists are quadragenarian, have already been previously married (not to each other) and separated, and are certainly not virgins. Since the protagonists came from Purabhum, the narrator terms her tale a 'hybrid story' – an interesting choice, for it suggests experimentation with both form and content. She identifies herself as Susham Bedi, or nearly does so, towards the end of the prologue and proximates herself with the protagonists by reiterating her own position as a hybrid writer from both Purabhum and Navabhum. She divides the story into four parts – purvarag, or the dawning of love; ayog, or semi-union; sanyog, or union; and viyog, or parting. The parting is succeeded by an epilogue, and is a clever attempt at approximating this work to the classical works of Kalidasa and Jayasi. Measured affections By the time we encounter the protagonists, the two have already shared a fleeting glimpse, their hearts attentive the moment their gaze met. Their meeting is more serendipitously circumstantial than planned. Both have arrived for an academic conference, and in this pre-Internet era – when flights and hotel bookings were arranged over the phone rather than in seconds online – there is nothing that happens instantly; love unfolds at its own pace. Ketaki's reservation at a hotel does not come through, and Aditya suggests that she take up his room for the night. The prospect seems promising, and Ketaki agrees to it. However, things do not go as planned, and since Aditya cannot lodge with his other colleagues, he is forced to spend the night with Ketaki in his formerly booked room. This room provides the ready soil where the germinal seeds of love would flourish – the room is teeming with anxieties, with promises of possibilities, but a haze unsettles love from lust. As readers, we have access to the protagonists' interiority – we know that they have fallen for each other, that a thread is beginning to affect them but they need to tread carefully. Flirting comes easily to them, manifested through the gestures of attending presentations, exchanging notes and feedback, and sending books (the definite promise of love, functioning as a 'mantra; the minute you chant it, you get a chance to contact your lover'). They are witty in their nok-jhok, their banter, but these exchanges are laced with anxieties as well. I recall Ketaki's exchange with Aditya when they were spending some time together on an island. She blurts out her anxiety quite poetically, 'I don't even know the difference between who is mine and who is a stranger any longer.' Very soon, these exchanges acquire a more concrete shape; the thread begins to tug and tighten its grip around them as the distance between them shortens significantly through regular phone calls, faxes, and flying out. Their acquaintanceship graduates to companionship, and the scholarly paraphernalia initially exchanged functions no longer than footnotes. What both Ketaki and Aditya seek is love but how they seek it spells out the cracks in their newly formed relationship. The narrator reminds the readers that Ketaki, a self-professed procrastinator, seems to delay love and postpone her desires while Aditya remains unfazed in his quest. He is certain that he wants Ketaki not for 'her body' but for her 'mind.' Ketaki, on the other hand, yearns for an alignment with the 'soul.' The schism between mann (mind) and atmann (soul) forms the crux of this modern-day meditation on love; the partial impossibility of its unison made evident when Ketaki loses her balance over some pebbles after Aditya requests her to allow him to 'keep loving (you), that's all I ask.' In this ras-katha, love propels the action as well as complicates it. Love becomes the antagonist, and the action rests on the mechanics of this intensely sly emotion. Once the 'honeymoon phase' of romance wanes, Ketaki finds herself unable to 'put all her eggs in one basket' while Aditya is ready to parcel out his entire being to her – he proposes to take up an academic position at her university and vice versa so as to negate the 'tragedy' of 'not living together' (certainly an ideal move for romances and marriages between academics to pan out in contemporary situations!). However, cohabitation does not guarantee the flourishing of love. Ketaki's anxieties are fuelled when Aditya does not hesitate to give in to the joys of picturing a 'domestic romance.' He seems to assert his familiarity onto Ketaki. For all his scholarly attributions, Aditya reveals himself to be just any other man. He is no 'postcolonial hero' that the narrator promises him to be at the onset. Ketaki's worst fears have been uttered. Love is now a task that requires commitment and no playful flirtation. It begins to assume the shade of a domestic chore, and Ketaki is not ready to 'jump into that well' again. Her dilemma is compounded and mapped as she transitions from composing complete poems to incomplete ones for Aditya. Meanwhile, the spectre of exes from Ketaki's past assails Aditya. Unable to separate his professional instincts from his personal life, he reads too much into things and overanalyses gestures and interactions, assuming Ketaki harbours an interest in her colleague, Ajay. His actions are a complete disavowal of his promise that his love would be unencumbered, that his love won't demand surrender from Ketaki, but he turns out to be 'even more suspicious and narrow-minded' than Ketaki's ex-husband. Their pursuit of love transmutes into a pursuit of the self. Their world splits open to reveal the axis where the protagonists place their hopes and desires; there is a clear chasm between Ketaki's realism and Aditya's idealism. Their story, however, does not end in viyog, or parting. The narrator, aware that she has told a story of romance blooming in the New World, speculates and gently nudges readers to choose the ending that best aligns with their sensibilities. We circle back to where we started – the friend who visits the narrator with a 'love-related incident or accident' is revealed to be Ketaki, her story just divulged to us. The epic novel captures the human condition at its finest through the simple premise of two academics in love. Love cannot be reasoned with, and neither Ketaki nor Aditya can penetrate the mystery of this elusive emotion through their various theories, ranging from the Oedipus complex to the Electra complex or the various attitudes ranging from monogamy to polyamory. Perhaps this is also how love is revealed to be a universal emotion, mystifying all. The frustrations of commoners in love are very much the frustrations of the high-browed in love, and most importantly, the story magnetises the gaze on the differences in reception of love by men and women. Love has never been free for women, and this is a thread that runs along the axis of time and space, binding all women across centuries, in the Navabhum as well as the Purabhum, together. Content with form While much has been discussed about the content, I would like to sharpen my focus on the form of the novel. Bedi's ingenuity is revealed through the elegant structuring of this experimental work. Interspersed with poems and layered with intertextual references ranging from Rilke to Bill Clinton, I would not hesitate to call it an 'epic novel.' Love comes undulating to us, embodied, and seamlessly translated, allowing readers to savour the rasas through the characters – a testament to the translator Astri Ghosh's brilliance. The prologue's commentary on the distance and difference between the New World and the Old World may be considered a commentary on the craft of translation – 'Well, maybe it does not matter where they are from. Especially if you are talking about emotions like the flavour of love, which encapsulates all feelings, all you need for that is two hearts that beat. It can happen anywhere on earth in the heavens or even the space between heaven and earth.' Ketaki and Aditya may have been 'so firmly fixed on their axes that it was difficult for either of them to move', but Ghosh traverses to bring lovers of words closer to Bedi's text – her creativity to keep ghazals, the lyrics in the original and then followed by their translation was fascinating. More fascinating was her choice to stick to the good old Hindi names of the flora and fauna – a conundrum that I struggle with. And consider the glimmer of this translated line: 'the comet of misfortune plummets to earth like this.' I was in conversation with the work throughout, existing in the marginalia with Ketaki and Aditya, relating to their timeless story, and layering it with intertextual references from the present. Bedi's story lingers; it is effervescent. It keeps you alive as you feel Ketaki's anger and Aditya's frustration. As readers, you may think that you know the solution to their malady. One feels like reaching out to them, telling them that love is supposed to be self-illuminating – that they should not 'be killing themselves through the death of separation' to keep love alive, that waqt ki qaid mein zindagi hai magar, chand gharriyan yehi hein jo azad hein (perhaps, this is what the narrator has in mind when she envisions three alternative endings, but sadly enough, the onus is on Ketaki). However, time is always out of joint, and the novel tells us that the relation between what we feel and what we know may never be negotiated. Sonakshi Srivastava is a senior writing tutor at Ashoka University, translations editor at Usawa Literary Review, and educational arm assistant at Asymptote. A New World Romance, Susham Bedi, translated from the Hindi by Astri Ghosh, Zubaan Books.
News18
14-07-2025
- Entertainment
- News18
Nagesh Kukunoor Says His Film The Hunt Is ‘Not About Politics'
Last Updated: Nagesh Kukunoor returns with The Hunt, a gripping short series on the 1991 assassination of former PM Rajiv Gandhi. Nagesh Kukunoor makes a compelling return to the screen with The Hunt, a powerful and critically acclaimed short series that revisits one of the darkest chapters in modern Indian history—the assassination of former Prime Minister Rajiv Gandhi. The incident, which unfolded during an election rally in 1991, not only shocked the nation but also marked a pivotal moment in its political landscape. In a candid conversation with Seema Chishti, Editor at The Wire, Kukunoor reflects on what drew him to such a politically charged and emotionally complex narrative at this point in his career. He explained, 'When Samir Nair approached me with this idea, my initial response was I do not want to do anything political or religious… The only kind of politics I'll write about is my fictional show City of Dreams." Despite his initial hesitation, Kukunoor eventually saw potential in the project. 'When I read it, I kind of knew how to structure this show," he shared. Unlike traditional retellings that often get entangled in the emotional or political aftermath, The Hunt focuses squarely on the massive and methodical investigation that followed the assassination. The creators have made a conscious effort to avoid sensationalism and instead shed light on the complex inner workings of the case. The storyline avoids drifting into tangents, even as it acknowledges the larger socio-political and cross-border ramifications of the event. The emphasis remains firmly on how law enforcement and intelligence agencies navigated the investigation in a vastly different technological landscape. Set in the pre-Internet and pre-mobile phone era, the series vividly recreates the tone, mood and texture of the early 1990s India. Through a palette of muted colours and measured pacing, the show brings to life a country on the brink of transformation. It captures the intricacies of the 90 days immediately following the assassination, when digital surveillance was nonexistent, communication channels were limited and investigative tools were rudimentary compared to today's standards. Yet, the probe that unfolded was as thorough and high-stakes as any modern-day operation. Kukunoor acknowledges the unique creative and technical challenges of portraying a pre-digital India in 2025. Reconstructing a time before smartphones and internet footprints meant reimagining everything from the speed of information flow to the way people communicated and investigated crimes. The director notes that this slower, analogue pace required a rethinking of visual storytelling and narrative rhythm. With The Hunt, Kukunoor takes a bold, creative leap. Known for exploring themes such as personal growth, human relationships, and emotional introspection in films like Hyderabad Blues, Iqbal and Dor, he now ventures into true-crime territory—a genre grounded in realism and forensic detail. While he had previously dabbled in thrillers with 8×10 Tasveer, starring Akshay Kumar and Ayesha Takia, The Hunt stands apart in both tone and treatment. It's not just a thriller—it's a meticulous chronicle of actual events, handled with a sharp eye for authenticity and nuance. First Published:
Calgary Herald
03-07-2025
- Entertainment
- Calgary Herald
How Bluesfest became "polyjamorous"
Article content As you may recall, the Sting show was a huge success and a significant turning point. It not only demonstrated that organizers could handle a major international act but also paved the way for a contingent of top-tier acts to appear in subsequent years. Corporate sponsorship increased and attendance grew. Article content Article content Over the years, the stable of superstars booked at the festival expanded to include rapper Kanye West, rockers White Stripes, pop diva Lady Gaga, electro maestro Skrillex, hip-hop mogul Snoop Dogg, hard-rockers KISS and many more. Attendance swelled to 20,000-plus each night. Article content Early in this multi-genre programming approach, festival boss Mark Monahan realized the pop acts sold a level of tickets that helped subsidize the blues content. Article content 'I'm going to do what I have to do to ensure that I can get the blues acts that I want,' Monahan said in a 2003 interview. 'Without the more mainstream, big shows, we would never be at the point where our entertainment budget is at $1.4 million. The big acts make that happen because, realistically, the pure blues audience just isn't big enough to provide that sort of monetary base.' Article content Article content If you ask him now why the organization has kept the Bluesfest name, he will outline the importance of maintaining a widely recognized and highly regarded 31-year-old brand. Article content 'I think we're resigned to the fact that it's 31 years now and and even if it's another 31 years it'll still be a topic of discussion,' Monahan said. 'But yeah, I do think the debate helps promote the festival.' Article content Fair enough, I say. But there are still people like Dalton Holloway, a public servant with a marketing background, who submitted a letter to the editor of the Ottawa Citizen earlier this year, describing the Bluesfest moniker as 'grossly misleading.' Article content 'I think we owe it to the artists, visitors and ourselves to have a moment of honesty,' Holloway wrote. 'It's time to rebrand Ottawa's biggest festival. A name that fully encompasses the diversity of artists and talent that serenades this city.' Article content Article content He didn't have a suggestion, so I dug up a 2024 Reddit thread on the topic in hopes of finding some ideas. The only one I saw was the unimaginative General Music Fest. Yawn. Article content This brings us back to the polyjamorous descriptor. I like it because it reflects how most people listen to music these days. Thanks to the prevalence of streaming services, music fans can check out any style that strikes our fancy at any time. Article content It's a far cry from the pre-Internet age when identities were defined and friendships forged through the type of music one sought out and listened to, whether it was metal or punk or new wave or blues or rock. Friend groups tended to form around specific musical tastes and stick together. (For the record, I was in the blues crowd in high school.)
Ottawa Citizen
03-07-2025
- Entertainment
- Ottawa Citizen
How Bluesfest became "polyjamorous"
Article content As you may recall, the Sting show was a huge success and a significant turning point. It not only demonstrated that organizers could handle a major international act but also paved the way for a contingent of top-tier acts to appear in subsequent years. Corporate sponsorship increased and attendance grew. Article content Over the years, the stable of superstars booked at the festival expanded to include rapper Kanye West, rockers White Stripes, pop diva Lady Gaga, electro maestro Skrillex, hip-hop mogul Snoop Dogg, hard-rockers KISS and many more. Attendance swelled to 20,000-plus each night. Article content Early in this multi-genre programming approach, festival boss Mark Monahan realized the pop acts sold a level of tickets that helped subsidize the blues content. Article content 'I'm going to do what I have to do to ensure that I can get the blues acts that I want,' Monahan said in a 2003 interview. 'Without the more mainstream, big shows, we would never be at the point where our entertainment budget is at $1.4 million. The big acts make that happen because, realistically, the pure blues audience just isn't big enough to provide that sort of monetary base.' Article content Article content If you ask him now why the organization has kept the Bluesfest name, he will outline the importance of maintaining a widely recognized and highly regarded 31-year-old brand. Article content 'I think we're resigned to the fact that it's 31 years now and and even if it's another 31 years it'll still be a topic of discussion,' Monahan said. 'But yeah, I do think the debate helps promote the festival.' Article content Fair enough, I say. But there are still people like Dalton Holloway, a public servant with a marketing background, who submitted a letter to the editor of the Ottawa Citizen earlier this year, describing the Bluesfest moniker as 'grossly misleading.' Article content 'I think we owe it to the artists, visitors and ourselves to have a moment of honesty,' Holloway wrote. 'It's time to rebrand Ottawa's biggest festival. A name that fully encompasses the diversity of artists and talent that serenades this city.' Article content Article content He didn't have a suggestion, so I dug up a 2024 Reddit thread on the topic in hopes of finding some ideas. The only one I saw was the unimaginative General Music Fest. Yawn. Article content This brings us back to the polyjamorous descriptor. I like it because it reflects how most people listen to music these days. Thanks to the prevalence of streaming services, music fans can check out any style that strikes our fancy at any time. Article content It's a far cry from the pre-Internet age when identities were defined and friendships forged through the type of music one sought out and listened to, whether it was metal or punk or new wave or blues or rock. Friend groups tended to form around specific musical tastes and stick together. (For the record, I was in the blues crowd in high school.)
