Hi! I'm Michael Donaldson, and I write about music on 8sided.blog, license and publish music through 8DSync, and make music as Q-Burns Abstract Message. I think about music all of the time. My guess is you do, too.
This is the sixth episode of Ringo Dreams of Lawn Care, a newsletter loosely about music-making and music-listening and how technology changes the culture around those things.
I thought perhaps I wouldn’t send out a newsletter this weekend. But, inspired by a tweet from Robin Sloan, I poured myself into this episode as a distraction from the news around me. It worked! Hopefully, reading will gift a moment of distraction to you as well. Oh, and each episode of the newsletter has a theme song. This week, that song is “McNugget Curry.” Have a quick listen and then read on …
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Umm … so how was your week? It's hard to believe that last Saturday, the thing at the top of my mind was this newsletter's title: Ringo Dreams of Lawn Care. As you recall, I was wondering about the name's ambiguity and silliness and if it should change. A pressing dilemma, surely.
I received fantastic input from reader-land. A couple of people pointed out that the current title expresses the casual and dot-connecting tone of the newsletter better than Tiny Accidents. First off, I'm thankful that readers are already picking up on an underlying 'tone' for these episodes. I wasn't sure if I had landed on a particular vibe yet, so those comments are encouraging.
There were also votes in favor of Tiny Accidents. Interestingly, most of those votes were from close IRL friends. Their concern is that the newsletter might not be taken seriously in its current guise, hampering its growth. In other words, my friends are looking out for me and want to see this experiment succeed. That's encouraging, too.
And then there was a vote for Ringo Dreams of Tiny Lawn Care Accidents, a compromise that I promised to consider.
In the end, there were a few more votes for the current title than the alternative. But I weighed my reader's thoughts more than the numbers. I think I'm going to keep Ringo Dreams of Lawn Care. For now.
When I work with bands and recording artists, I emphasize that — in 2020 — they can do anything they want. I referred to this in a previous episode as 'the punk rock dream.' The tools are in our hands for following creative urges and gut instincts rather than the status quo and market pressure. Do you want to put out an album this month and then two one-song singles next month under a different band name? Go for it. It's all possible.
I should take the same attitude when it comes to this newsletter. If at some point, I want to change the title, I'll change it. Start over, maybe. End this 'series' and begin again with a new one. As the Minutemen sang, "Tear up your dictionary!" This newsletter is an experiment, after all.
I'm not tired of Ringo Dreams of Lawn Care just yet, and it seems some of you really like the title. So it stays for at least a little while. And when I get that gut instinct, that creative urge, you'll find something different in your inbox.
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In the mid-70s, a music scholar, maybe a professor, definitely someone we'd now call a 'musicologist,' wrote an alarming letter to Rolling Stone magazine. He stated that, by his estimation, within a few years the notes would run out. That is, musicians were about to exhaust all available music notes in every possible timing and context. He warned that soon there would be no more original songs.
Beneath this letter was a response from John and Yoko. They were apparently enlisted by Rolling Stone to address this crisis. Their two-word reaction to song-pocalyspe: "Lighten up."
I should point out that I can't verify this happened. I saw the exchange printed somewhere many years ago, but I can't find evidence online. Regardless, it's no surprise that for decades music intellectuals have raised concerns about a limit on new songs. And that the songwriters have always reacted with a shrug.
The notes are only part of a song. Also critical: instrumentation, dynamics, performance texture, tempo, studio trickery — the list goes on. Those notes don't seem as limited when we take these extra elements into consideration. But it's still reasonable to imagine a few people coming up with similar melodies. And if some of those other elements align, then there might be a raised eyebrow or two. Is it plagiarism?
I'm not saying everyone is innocent of copying notes or lyrics or songs outright. But we're led to believe it intentionally happens a lot less than it does. A dirty little secret is that songwriting isn't all that difficult if you know what you're doing. Having a 'hit' song is tough, but all of those elements I mentioned above — and some additional ones, like charisma and promotional budgets — contribute to making it a hit, too. When you think about all the potential downsides, it's a lot easier to write a song than steal someone else's.
Minneapolis-based 'record selector' Mike 2600 has an amusing YouTube series called Songs That Sound The Same. Using two turntables (and I suspect some pitch manipulation), he goes beyond the 'mash-up,' drawing attention to songs that share an uncanny resemblance. This one's a lot of fun. As is this one and this one.
A lot of Mike 2600's comparisons rest on similarities in chord changes and sequences, a chord being a combination of usually three notes providing a bed for melody. Combinations of chords are a lot more limited than those of individual notes. There are a lot of similarities out there for Mike 2600 to choose from.
Mike 2600 could do one of these videos for "Stairway To Heaven" and Spirit's "Taurus." Maybe he has, but probably not — that resemblance is so well known it's low-hanging fruit. Journalist Michael Skidmore thought he'd reach for that fruit when he filed a plagiarism suit on behalf of the late Spirit frontman Randy Wolfe. The two songs' similarity elicited murmurings since the release of "Stairway To Heaven," but the lawsuit didn't appear until 2014.
Yes, the iconic opening riff of "Stairway To Heaven" is bizarrely similar to "Taurus." But so are a lot of things. The same descending chromatic chords, as noted in defense arguments, are found in the music of JS Bach and Henry Purcell, and also the song "Chim Chim Cher-ee" from Mary Poppins (which puts Led Zeppelin in an unlikely context). There are only so many chords used in so many ways.
Last week, judges agreed and cleared Led Zeppelin of wrong-doing. But the ruling added another twist — the court's dismissal of 'the inverse ratio rule.' What's that, and why is it interesting? Let's dig in.
Understand that plagiarism doesn't have to be intentional to warrant legal punishment. If it's believed that you heard a song anytime and anywhere, then the plaintiff can argue it's possible that plagiarism occurred, whether you meant to do it or not. The more famous a song is the easier it is to make this argument. George Harrison encountered this notion when "My Sweet Lord" was accused of copying The Chiffon's "He's So Fine." The latter was a massive hit in 1963, at the same time The Beatles were making no secret of their admiration for American R&B. So the jury was convinced that Harrison, at the very least, unconsciously copied that song.
This idea of access and sublimation came to its ridiculous conclusion in the recent case of Flame vs. Katy Perry. In my opinion, that case was already absurd, involving two somewhat similar and short melodic phrases representing modern pop's zeitgeist. But Flame's attorney argued that since his client's song had 6 million online plays — spread out among platforms like YouTube and, yes, MySpace — it was undoubtedly, at some point, heard by the writers of Perry's song. The jury ended up agreeing.
Taken further, it seems the internet demolished the limitations of access. It's now presumed that everything is available — how are 6 million streams on YouTube any different than an emerging artist appearing on an obscure but influential Spotify playlist? Arguably the potential for accidental thievery is the same. Almost all music is available by tapping the screen of a smartphone, so the idea of access is passé. The court in Led Zeppelin's case recognized this change in our culture, and the 'inverse ratio rule' is toast.
There are other ways that technology alters our concepts of plagiarism. Let's consider how companies like Splice are affecting musical ownership. Splice is a market-place for sounds, where recording artists can download loops and phrases to use in their own songs. After paying a subscription fee, the user is given these sounds as 'royalty-free' sonic building blocks. That means an artist can use these bits in a commercial recording without royalties or attribution to Splice, and claim the rights to the song as her own. No one owns Splice's sounds — they can be used simultaneously in any number of songs.
Of course, this model reached an inevitable outcome. A melodic loop from Splice was used in a song by — of all people — Justin Bieber. Within 24 hours of that song's release, artist Asher Monroe accused Bieber of ripping off the instrumental hook from his song. But they both got the phrase from Splice. As did many other artists, including Korean hip-hop artist YUMDDA. According to The Verge, that leads to another 21st-century problem:
Because Monroe and YUMDDA's songs have portions with the unaltered sample and nothing else, Shazam gets confused. The app sometimes identifies Monroe's track as YUMDDA's, and vice versa. But it has no trouble identifying Bieber's song, likely because there are other percussive elements always layered on top of the sample.
Damien Riehl — a lawyer, coder, and musician — and Noah Rubin pulled an impressive stunt. They wrote a program to generate every possible melodic combination of notes. The program then stored all 68.7 billion melodies to a hard drive. But rather than using up all the songs, as the Rolling Stone letter-writing musicologist feared, Damien and Noah put the contents of the hard drive in the public domain. All melodies are now free to use, they argued. From here forward, lawsuits for copyrighted note sequences are all frivolous.
Of course, Damien and Noah's effort is mostly a stunt and probably won't change anything. The Led Zeppelin ruling will have more effect on songwriters (as will the appeal-in-progress on the Katy Perry suit). But it makes an interesting point. And it helps highlight the limited nature (and mathematics) of notes, and how subconscious plagiarism could become an outdated concept now that we're subconsciously consuming everything.
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I'll leave you with a few quickies to assist in further distraction on this otherwise lovely weekend:
The most inspiring thing I watched this week was this performance of Philip Glass and Robert Wilson's Einstein on the Beach. A group of friends put on a full-scale production of the play — all three-and-a-half hours of it — in a living room. They call it 'Einstein in the House.' If humanity is getting you down, put this on to witness that people are pretty cool sometimes. [link]
The best thing I read this week was an article by an Indian journalist hoping to learn more about his late father. And the strongest connection to his father's secret past is an old vinyl copy of Kraftwerk's Trans-Europe Express. [link]
This week I was supposed to fly to SXSW, but we all know how that played out. When I go, there are usually one or two bands that I have to see (last time The Comet Is Coming and Mary Lattimore were on my list). This year I was looking forward to checking out the band Corridor. From Montreal, Corridor remind me of those New Zealand bands I loved in the early-90s — The Clean, The Chills, The Bats, etc. — but with French song titles. The music is an uplifting indie-pop with spiraling, repetitive guitar riffs and ripe melodies. Their third album, Junior, is terrific and is out now on Sub Pop. It's this week's aural antidote to all the gloominess. [link]
Also, last week I recommended the lovely experimental ambient album Collage by Swiss composer Marc Méan. I sent Marc a series of questions about his music and he delivered many insightful answers. I compiled these in an article about Collage that I posted on 8sided.blog. [link]
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I hope you enjoyed this episode of Ringo Dreams of Lawn Care and it gave you something a little different to think about in these challenging times. Reach out if you have any comments or something to add to the discussion. I’d love to hear from you. You can learn more about me, what I do, and contact me with your comments here.
As always, if you know anyone who would like this newsletter than please pass it on. And as much as social media gives me the heebie-jeebies, sharing Ringo on your favorite social site is also groovy. There are some cool moves planned so I’m into getting the word out. Your help with that means a lot more than you know.
Thank you so much for reading. Hang in there … things will be fun again soon. To bring it back to George Harrison, all things must pass. And I swear this isn’t a Beatles newsletter. Caio! 🚀
-After listening some Groove Collective album when it launched i remember asking my older brother what will happen when good tunes ran out. i was kinda worried. he just smiled.
-Could not check Mike's youtube video number 9 because it's blocked on my country, copyright issues. I hate those! It happens a lot with videos that DamFunk shares on twitter. Did i mention i hate them.