"If you want to make it in show business, get the hell out of Oregon."
Advice from Sophie Tucker (a Russian-born American singer, comedian, actress, and radio personality, 1884-1966) to a young Johnnie Ray
The Frustrated CFO's comment: Thank God, he paid attention to her.
Not quite Doctor Who just yet (it's not easy to compete with one of the top five grossing broadcasts in BBC's history), Downton Abbey is, nevertheless, an undeniable international success. NBC Universal estimates that in the past three years the show has been viewed by as many as 120 million people worldwide. Despite being a somewhat traditional British period melodrama, the hit series became popular in Scandinavia, Russia, South Asia, and the Middle East. Over 8.5 million American households tuned in to their local PBS stations to watch the Season Three finale. In January, an article in the New York Times told the story of Jim Carter's cycling trip to Cambodia: while wandering among the temples of Angkor Wat, he was surrounded by a crowd of Asian tourists, excitedly calling to him, "Mr. Carson! Mr. Carson!" This is what I call making TV history!
Of course, the casting is superb. But there is no denying that, first and foremost, the show owes its popularity to the excellent storytelling skills of Julian Fellowes. The writer/creator made his characters alive with a realistic mix of "good and evil" traits in each and every one of them. He also managed to construct a multifaceted entertainment device, which reveals different aspects of the tale, depending on a particular viewer's interests. There is plenty of romance, nearly operatic dramatics, suspenseful intrigues, social tension, snappy one-liners reserved for Maggie Smith's deadpan delivery, and spellbinding details of the times when craftsmen still cared about beauty and quality, not just immediate functionality.
There is also a fundamental atmosphere of dignity surrounding the leading characters, regardless of their social origin. The audience is subconsciously attracted to the possibility of people treating each other with respect and making sacrifices. It's an escape from the reality of contemporary human behavior: Individuals of power caring about their charges? It's something no employee experiences nowadays. Servants not spitting into their patrons' dishes? Well, let's not even go there…
So, the show provides viewers with a lot of engaging material. To the point that most people don't even realize that one of Downton Abbey's most remarkable aspects is that its stories are painted on a solid factual canvas of the early 20th century. But, the geeks of history and socio-economics, who also love the show, are very anxious about the future of the Crawleys and their glorious home. They don't brush away the tidbits about possible sell-off, lost castles, shortage of funds, and estate management – they soak it all up.
Because, you see, these were not easy times for the British gentry and their large country estates. No siree! In fact, by the time we meet them in this BBC series, they've already suffered several serious economic blows.
The majority of families with hereditary titles were not industrialists, bankers, or international traders. They were (and many still are) landowners: centuries ago their royal sovereigns granted them counties and shires to rule; the fancy names came with the properties. For many generations, it wasn't befitting of any European aristocrat, not just a British one, to make income-earning efforts. The only careers acceptable for men were political or military: some of them contrived imperial plans and the others led people to death trying to fulfill them. (As you recall, Matthew Crawley's solicitor practice was considered problematic as recently as the dawn of the last century.) Of course, the only acceptable activities for women were bringing in a rich dowry (like Lady Cora did), making "society" connections, bearing the offspring, playing a hostess, hunting, and gardening.
The only source of most squires' income was that rural land they owned. Up until the last quarter of the 19th century, they played a significant part in the agricultural sector of the economy by letting out large parcels to farmers. And this was enough to keep the estates and their upstairs and downstairs occupants in good shape.
Believe it or not, the first shift for the worse was caused by a stock market crash – the 1873 collapse of the Vienna Stock Exchange (yeah, the "investors" could've learned their lessons back then, but they never do!). This is not the right occasion for going into the genesis and the consequences of the Panic of 1873. Let me just register my belief that this was the first link in the chain of economic events that led to revolutions, both World Wars, and the Great Depression. Hell, our current reality may be affected by it! However, the most relevant aftermath of the event, to this post's subject, was the Pan-European poverty which led to the contraction of market demand and agricultural depression. Most of the British Country Estates experienced severe deterioration of their income.
Unfortunately the disappearance of revenues coincided with an escalation of standards (and costs) of comfortable living. The Industrial Revolution offered possibilities for new luxiries to the estates' owners: innovative plumbing, electricity, central heating, phones, etc. It would be silly for lords and ladies to stick to the retrogressive ways of existing, in an Amish sort of way, for the sake of frugality. But can you imagine the capital investment required to outfit a stately home such as Downton Abbey with all the modern amenities? And how about those utility bills covering 100+ rooms?
As it always happens, when the national economy goes sour, the governments use taxation instruments to cover their own holes. While the Death Duty was first introduced in Great Britain in 1796, through the multitudes of loopholes, it remained a nuisance until the late 19th century. But starting with the 1890's all bequeathed property became subject to the "probate duty" with the persistently increasing taxation rates (they peaked to 65% in 1940, becoming one of the major sources of funding the UK's World War II efforts). Truth be told, economically speaking, the best thing that could happen to the Downton's inhabitants is for Lord Grantham t0 stay alive all the way to the end of the show – this will spare the audience from witnessing not just the loss of the character, but also the most significant financial blow.
Further tightening of the taxation screws came on the wings of social justice as it was interpreted by the 1909 People's Budget, conceived by two future Prime Ministers: David Lloyd George, then a Chancellor of the Exchequer, and Winston Churchill, then President of the Board of Trade. This fiscal Act was essentially a first attempt in British history to redistribute wealth. It resulted in the increase of income taxes and a mandatory revaluation of land every time it changed hands with 20% taxes imposed on the value increase. The likes of the Crawleys nicknamed the political duo behind it the "Terrible Twins."
Of course, World War I dealt a terrible blow to all Europeans, including the British landed gentry. Always a great source of life-changing drama, the war becomes the predominant backdrop of Downton's second season. In a very tactful way, while focusing on the inhuman horrors of combat with numerous lives lost and deformed, the show still managed to pinpoint the specific effect this terrible turmoil had on the economy as a whole and the estate itself. The withdrawal of working-age men from civilian life devastated both the remaining income-generating opportunities and the property's service.
So far, the series creators have been kind to the viewers who became emotionally attached to the beautiful property: they only mention a possibility of a sale. But the sad truth is that, by that time, there were only a handful of people who could buy these grand houses.
Some of them became regional museums, schools, prisons, etc. A few others opened large portions of the living quarters for public viewing. Most of the art displayed to the paying visitors in these mansions and castles doesn't belong to the titled heirs anymore. One part of the People's Budget was a provision for Acceptance in Lieu, which allowed for inheritance tax debts to be written off in exchange for donation of national treasures. While the legal ownership got transferred to such esteemed institutions as the Victoria & Albert Museum or the National Gallery, the art objects are allowed to retain their familiar positions as long as they can be viewed by the public for at least 100 days a year.
However, the rest of Great Britain's large country estates were simply demolished. Since 1900, over 1,600 important houses had been destroyed in England, Scotland, and Ireland; many of them architectural gems and the seats of historical figures. Some of the demolition spoils – fireplaces, library panelings, balustrades were sold for next to nothing; many ended up in America.
From the point of view of economic history, Julian Fellowes already wrote a sequel to Downton Abbey in his screenplay for Gosford Park (2001), based on an idea by Robert Altman, who also directed. The movie takes place in 1932 and Sir William McCordle (played by pre-Dumbledore Michael Gambon) resides comfortably in his Victorian estate, because he had cast aside gentlemanly ideals a long time ago. He is a World War I profiteer, a ruthless manufacturer exploiting the labour of women and children in his factories.
By the end of Downton's third season, the key decision-makers seem to be in agreement that Matthew's insistence on turning the estates into a big-scale industrialized agricultural enterprise is the only way to keep the place attached to the name. It remains to be seen how far Julian Fellowes will push the historical realism into the melodramatic mosaic of the show, while preserving its high ratings.
Like many other people exposed to human congestion and the environmental deterioration of big cities, I got hit by a terrible flu. So, for quite some time I could only summon enough strength to drag my ass to work (THAT show, of course, must always go on). Hence, as reactions to the Golden Globes broadcast go, this post is definitely outdated. On the other hand, my sentiments are unlikely to change, so it’s just as well…
Nearly every time I go abroad, I am exposed to various degrees of anti-American attitudes. Last time I was entering London’s National Gallery, I had to watch American flags being set on fire on Trafalgar Square. In most European countries, economic and social difficulties are openly blamed on the US by both official and popular opinion-makers. People shamelessly gloat every time we have a natural disaster and entertain themselves with predictions of our imminent economic and moral destruction. Even in Amsterdam’s coffeeshops (aka hash bars), where the consumption of various cannabis products is supposed to make customers laid-back and agreeable, the hostility flares up at the sound of an American accent. I’m not going to venture into the anti-US mood swings of many Asian, African, and Latin American Nations – it would require a separate series of posts.
Individuals and nations alike have a need to absolve themselves and blame someone else for their troubles. The wealthiest country in the world full of fucked up crap (as a true patriot I never deny problems) makes for an easy target. But why don’t they first stop going to McDonalds, watching our movies, googling, and tabulating in Excel? And, please, stop blaming us for Justin Bieber! He is Canadian, for crying out loud!
The truth is that there is only a small contingent of people in the world who are capable of forming their own opinions even about matters close to their own homes, leave alone those far removed. The majority, like a flock of sheep, rely on judgments presented by someone else through various media outlets. Make no mistake: foreigners are just as susceptible to the brainwashing powers of newspapers, magazines, and TV as our domestic masses.
Prominent journalists and commentators have a tremendous influence on the attitudes of their nations, especially in smaller countries. Moreover, it’s a reciprocal relationship: as reading and viewing audiences become more receptive to particular sentiments, the media purveyors cater to their likings in order to retain their own popularity.
Enter Foreign Press… In general terms, any journalist who lives in the United States (the definition applies to any country, actually), but works for a public medium abroad, reporting on our domestic events, is a foreign correspondent. These journalists, most of them expatriates, impact the way people in other countries view America.
They usually conglomerate in major news hubs: New York City, Washington DC, Los Angeles, etc. In fact, I believe that New York Foreign Press Association, formed in 1918, is one of the oldest of such organizations. Yet, not too many people know about it.
However, many people around the world know about Hollywood Foreign Press Association (HFPA), even though it counts as its members only 93 journalists. Or, at the very least, people know about the awards they have been granting since 1944 for achievements in film and television – the Golden Globes. These reporters write on the subject that is most likely to attract the largest audiences – the United States entertainment industry. They represent 55 countries in Europe, Asia, Australia, and Central and South America. Wikipedia estimates their combined readership around 250 million (!). And, boy, do they have an agenda!
I can probably write another dissertation breaking down the clever and camouflaged ways they perpetuate their purposes: why Argo and not Zero Dark Thirty; why Les Miserables and not Silver Lignings Playbook, or Moonrise Kingdom; why Homeland (even though 100% deserving, but also perfectly fitting in their scheme) and not Boardwalk Empire; why Episodes and Smash and not Curb Your Enthusiasm and VEEP. Why on Earth did they completely ignore a 2012 movie that not only celebrated the resilience of human spirit, but also raised a bar of creative filmmaking, while breaking the walls of the Hollywood bastion – Beasts of the Southern Wild?
Of course, I am not planning on writing a thesis. I just want to dwell a little on one question: Why the fuck did HFPA shove two Golden Globes into the grabby hands of Lena Dunham? Obviously, they had their reasons.
If one tries to think logically about this, it seems doubtful that the middle-aged-to-quite-old journalists from Egypt, Philippines, Japan, China, Russia, and Brazil would pay any attention to a tiny show about a group of youngish hipsters, especially the one with ratings too low and viewership too small even by cable standards. But our own self-absorbed hipster-driven domestic media, in their unforgivable ignorance and blind confusion of values, served up Dunham as an overbuzzed gift. A handful of people with similar backgrounds proclaimed her to be the “voice of the generation” they really know nothing about. And that’s a very dangerous claim.
HPFA took notice; rejoiced; said, “Much obliged!” and started parading this embarrassment to the whole world. Look, they say to their 250 million readers in various countries, these characters are what all young Americans are like: navel-gazing, purposeless, severely limited in their abilities and skills, obnoxiously bad-mannered, insincere, unaware, incapable of squeezing out of themselves one true emotion or an original thought. This is the American Future.
By allowing them this opportunity, Dunham did a great service to the foreign entertainment journalists. Therefore, she has totally deserved her two Golden Globes. By letting her climb on stage at the Beverly Hilton Hotel twice, they exposed her as a “new American entertainment and media darling.” Look, they say, this is the person hailed as a breakthrough by culture commentators and “intellectuals” (God, forgive me, for calling them that!), talk show hosts, Hollywood producers, the art community and whatnot. They adore her, while in reality she is:
A “creator” without an ability to imagine characters, situations, or plots. She can only transfer to paper and/or screen her own personal existence or the lives of the poor exploited mother-fuckers who got caught into her sticky cobweb. If there is a need to invent something genuine, it’s Jenni Konner (the actual coiner of “the voice of a generation” label) or Sarah Heyward to the rescue. On a few occasions Dunham ventures out of her comfort zone of the first-hand experiences, she steps right into the fuzzy cloud of her girly fantasies with an explosion of silliness. I swear, the only time Dunham made me laugh out loud was during the 5th episode of the 2nd season – what buffoonery! Honestly, in comparison, the wetly dreaming Dunham makes Stephenie Meyer look like a real creator.
A ” writer,” whose first published work will be a self-help book. What? No secret collection of innocent and fragile early poetry? Every respected author has it somewhere in their most private drawer. Of course, it probably wouldn’t garner a $3.6 million advance. The real literature never does (see Arts and Entertainment by the Numbers – Books).
An “actress,” who couldn’t memorize her acceptance speech lines – the only winner of a Golden Globe with a piece of paper in her hand.
A “comedienne,” who tries to be funny by reminding her fellow nominees how much younger she is and telling them that they helped her through middle school. Even though, I have to be honest – I cannot complain too much about that, because it gave Tina Fey a chance to write the funniest line of her career to date: “Amy, I know you since you were pregnant with Lena Dunham.”
A “director” incapable of overcoming her personal feelings and give some screen time to her other “lead” characters, cutting out their best tidbits (which are just a few to begin with). You are right, Howard Stern, “she hogs the screen,” and I have no idea what kind of strings she pulled to make you recant your true opinion of her.
A chameleon, who changes her attitudes depending on her PR management’s recommendations. First, her characters were “reflections.” Obviously, she was told that they were not very sympathetic. Now she says that the “girls” were exposed as being self-absorbed on purpose. The show gets criticized for being too white. Instead of admitting that she really has no people of color in her life, she throws Donald Glover into her hodgepodge… only to cast him away after two episodes. The PR whispers into her ear that she comes off as too sure of herself in all her interviews and talk-show appearances, and she starts screaming about her “confidence issues” every time she gets a chance. Seriously? I know quite a bit about self-doubt. You don’t fool me.
A “nice girl” (as proclaimed by all), who in her conversation with the former It Girl, Miranda July, for Interview magazine openly admitted that she was a complete asshole as a school girl and a college student, and that now she adapted an equally “sweet” disposition towards everyone without any discrimination. Apparently, some people get confused assuming she is their friend.
A conniving manipulator, who undercuts all reasonable critics by calling them haters or qualifying them as shallow: “I’m a real person with a real body and that’s why you don’t like me.”
What can I say? Even if the foreign press was a dark-magic cabal, they couldn’t conjure a better poster girl for their purpose of showing the American future in the worst possible way.
Now, let’s see. Do Girls’ characters actually represent any portion of the 43 million Americans ages 20-29? Yes, they do – 800,000 hipsters residing in the big cities on the East and West Coast, who faithfully watch the show (the other 3 millions of viewers consist of the hipsters’ parents, the media, and the cultural pundits). That’s less than 2%!
Does Lena Dunham, who takes her voice (plus, face and body) of the generation role very seriously, actually represent anybody at all? Yes, she does – a handful of privileged kids, who were empowered by their well-connected parents to do whatever they wanted and were handed undeserving opportunities by the mafia of Nepotism.
And the saddest part is that dear Lena is not going anywhere. Nowadays, award-winning shows scattered all over the place: broadcast networks, FX, Showtime, etc. To keep the statuettes’ numbers up, HBO will continue pouring money into products that attract foreign and domestic media attention, whatever the reason. They just picked up Dunham’s new show idea for development. In return, she will keep upholding her family tradition by shoving her crap into everyone’s face.
Look at that photo! This is what she does: like a fucking hamster on stilts she wobbles on the red carpets and in the back rooms, trying to imprint herself on as many “players” as she can, making the foreign press and their readers very happy.
IV. Music
Music must be the oldest form of human artistic expression. After all, it can be created without any special implements or media - our own physical beings are natural instruments: we have voices for melodies as well as hands and feet for rhythm. And that's pretty much all you need. I'm sure, way before any rudimentary communications among our prehistoric ancestors have begun, they could not resist the temptation to imitate the beautiful sounds of nature around them.
Music is also the most democratic and universal of the arts. One doesn't need to go to school and learn how to listen to music (unless, of course, you elect to do so). Even if you don't understand the technical intricacies of composition and harmony, or ideas behind the sound passages, or even the lyrics, you can still get knocked out by the angelic beauty of Puccini's Nessun Dorma, or the power of Beastie Boys' Sabotage.
This is why the same piece of music can become instantaneously famous all over the Globe and renown musicians go on the world-wide tours, selling out opera houses and arenas. This explains why people of various nationalities and social classes will do exactly the same thing in their respective countries - camp out overnight to get tickets to see Plasido Domingo or Thom Yorke.
In 2005, I was able to see The Mars Volta (at the paragon of their creative development then) multiple times on their Frances the Mute tour: Milan, Philadelphia, New York, Boston, Montreal, Toronto, Los Angeles. I've never seen a rock-band with so much innovative courage and inspiration – during that period, everyone of their performances was a unique experience, every song was taken to another level of perfection. It was the desire to witness their ingenuity over and over again that sent me to those different locations. But inadvertently it also became a social experiment in the universality of music. In every city, in front of every venue, the hardcore Volta fans with general admission tickets would come 6-7 hours ahead of the door-opening time to form a line, vying for the spots in front, right by the stage, so that they could be as close as possible to the source of the power that stripped their nerves raw.
Nothing matches the magnitude of musical stardom. It's only natural that the word "rockstar" lost it's original connotation and became a synonym with a special sort of fame, the one that comes with instant name recognition and expectations of panache. The kind of fame that made Michael Jackson's death into a world-wide era-ending affair. There is a video on YouTube called World's Reaction to Michael Jackson's Death. It is a slideshow of photos from all over the world; it's nearly 6 minutes long and it's staggering.
I honestly believe that the reason for such special relationship with music lies in our genetic code. We, humans, are simply predisposed to experience strong emotional impacts when exposed to various musical sequences. The effects could be different and the tastes vary widely, but something reverberates inside us one way or another. Just think about it: tribal people drummed themselves to a complete catharsis. Drums and bells announced wars, victories, and celebrations. Moreover, this musical messages were universally understood.
For many people music is an integral part of existence (and I'm not talking about professional musicians). I know a couple of remarkable individuals who were held away from the brink of the real darkness by the music alone. And look around yourself in any public place – how many people do you see with earphones? How many people do you know, who don't own at least one type of a music-reproducing device? Hell, we even have music for elevators.
And what about me? This is the fourth installment in the series after Books, Theater, and Cinema. Those three are my great loves and life would be emptier and sadder without them. Yet, it still would be My Life. But I simply cannot imagine what it would be like without Albioni's Adagio in G-minor, Mozart's Lacrimosa, Rodrigo's Concierto de Aranjuez, The Beatles' You Never Give Me Your Money, Led Zeppelin's Since I've Been Loving You, Leonard Cohen's Hallelujah, or Nirvana's Come As You Are (the list can go on forever). It would be a very-very different type of existence, not a Life at all…
Well, all that is wonderfully emotional for listeners, but at the end of the day, whether it's classical or club-thumping, music is a business (or whatever left of it at this point). As such, it's structured along the lines of the segregation of professional duties, just like all other performance arts and crafts: creators (music and lyrics writers), performers (vocalists and instrumentalists), techies, managers, agents, promoters, record companies with their own executives and staff, publishers, copyrights and licensing specialists, venue owners, videographers, etc.
As with everything, merging several roles within one entity (let's say a rock group) results in combination of incomes otherwise distributed over different contributors. The performers who write their music/lyrics, deal with their own production and recording (at the current state of digital technology this all can be done in the confines of one's living room), and handle their own publishing and promotion, avoid a lot of expenses within the industry's multilevel cost structure.
Otherwise, every component costs money. For example, the Swedish pop-hit manufacturer Max Martin, responsible for a long list of songs made famous by Backstreet Boys, Britney Spears, Celine Dion, Pink, Avril Levigne, Katy Perry, and Christina Aguilera, charges around $100,000 per track. So, if you want another "…Baby One More Time," that's your price tag.
On the other hand, there is such a thing as free music, even if you don't write it yourself. Dead classics cost nothing. Anything beyond 95 years from publication or 120 years from creation, whichever is shorter, is out of the copyright protection. Cole Porter's major hits from the 1930s will become public property in some 15-20 years. The Metropolitan Opera's supporters should keep that in mind, because their money ends up paying Philip Glass for the commissioned opus The Voyage (an unbearable dissonant cacophony based on the life of Christopher Columbus), while Mozart's priceless The Marriage of Figaro is available for free.
In music industry, the driving force behind the revenues are the performers – they deliver the product to the paying listeners and, therefore, the cash flow depends on their tune, name, and face recognition. Whether performed by an opera diva or a hip-hop star, the music income is derived from the same typical sources: live performances, physical and digital distribution of recordings, media royalties (radio, TV, and the Internet), licensing (two types – for usage of musical product itself and for the specific performances), merchandising, and endorsements.
Before the musicians can get their hands on a single penny, everyone else involved takes a cut. Managers receive 15% of gross revenues derived from all sources for making sure that the eccentric artists don't do stupid shit and fuck up their future in one way or another. Agents get 10% for bringing the revenue-generating opportunities to the table. Recording companies (aka "labels"), mp3 distributors (iTunes, Amazon, etc.), radio stations and such, work in the same manner as publishing houses for books, i.e. they first cover their own expenses and pay royalties as a percentage of net profits.
Further business expenses (just like in any other enterprise) include the cost of performance venues (opera houses and concert halls for some, arenas and dive bars for others), equipment capital expenditures, service fees (PR firms, lawyers, accountants, financial advisers), salaries (engineers, techies, roadies, stage hands, backup, and so on), travel (beat-up vans and motels for some, private planes and penthouse suites for others), meals & entertainment (this frequently includes drugs and "personal" attenders – hey, you've got to tame that performance anxiety somehow), etc.
So what kind of pay-rates are artists capable to generate from different resources in order to channel sustenance through this food chain?
The live performances follow the principle of all theatrical events, i.e. revenue depends on the number of seats (or the size of the standing venue) a musician can fill and the price per ticket that can be demanded for the privilege of witnessing the music magic. Opera singers may receive anywhere from $300 per performance of a secondary part in a small regional production to $25,000 per singing a lead at the Met (3800 seats at $35-$450 per seat) or Covent Garden (2256 seats at $60-$500 per seat). One has to remember, however, that classical singers must preserve their instruments and limit the number of stage appearances, yielding reported totals of $10 thousand to $1 million a year.
The disparity of earnings generated by touring pop and rock artists is even greater: from $50 per night (to be further distributed over the group's members) to $600,000 per a sold-out arena show of a Madison Square Garden (20,000 seats) caliber. Most of the merchandise usually sells at the live venues. Therefore, this part of income depends on the attendance as well. If a band's profit is $10 per a T-shirt and 10% of a 100-people audience buys one, the musicians get to split $100. On the other hand, a superstar can sell up to $300,000 worth of merch during a single show.
Nowadays, the selling price and the manufacturing cost of CDs are pretty much the same whether you are Lady Gaga or The Idaho Gagals. The net is about $8 per CD. In fact, the no-label DIY Gagals can keep all of it for themselves, while the artists with names will be lucky to get $2 per CD after everyone else takes a piece (see above). It's the number of units that makes a difference.
Speaking of units… Do I need to say it? The digital distribution of music has already overtaken the physical one. Artists' gross per iTunes or any other paid-for download (out of $0.99 to $1.29 you are charged) is $0.65. Internet-driven streaming services such as Spotify pay 0.5 cent per a stream.
The more famous the musicians get, the more money-making opportunities open up for them. A catchy popular single (let's say E.T. performed by Katy Perry ft. Kanye West) can generate around $500,000 in radio royalties alone.
The licensing rates for using music in film ($1,000 – $50,000), TV ($5,000 – $50,000), and commercial advertising ($50,000 – $500,000) vary depending on the power of the tune's recognition or the popularity of the performers.
A hipster indie filmmaker with an encyclopedic knowledge of music will go out of her way to obtain a license from a narrowly-known small-label band for a song that suits a crucial moment in her movie, spending $4,000 of her already tight budget. While it may well serve it's intended purpose, it's possible that no one in the inevitably small audience will recognize the melody. On the other hand, a few bars of Radiohead's Everything In It's Right Place in the very beginning of Cameron Crowe's Vanilla Sky slyly created an ambiance of familiarity and intimacy for the majority of the viewers. And I sure as hell hope that Paramount has spent at least $100,000 out of the $68 million budget for that license, because that was the best part of the movie.
The differentiation between the two types of music licenses (one based on the rights to the music itself, also known as "publishing" rights, and another for the right to reproduce a specific performance) is particularly evident in commercials. We frequently hear well-known melodies performed in unfamiliar ways.
I know some otherwise peaceful people, who turn very hostile, when they hear The Beatles' melodies in TV ads (the songs come from the 259-titles catalogue, relinquished to Sony by the late Michael Jackson back in 2008 as a part of his debt-restructuring and presently valued at $1 billion of potential licensing revenue). Besides the association of the divine creations with some household products, what really offends these fans are the terrible covers. However, Sony owns only publishing rights for the music itself and that's all they can sell to advertisers like Proctor & Gamble ( "All you need is Luvs," really?). The latter might've spent $1 million for the tune and then hired somebody for a $1,000 to record the blasphemy. But, if you hear the song performed in its original version, know that double fees were paid by the user to obtain both the publishing and the reproduction licenses.
Finally, you really need to be a household name to receive a major endorsement contract. And here it's not the music, but the celebrity per se, who becomes the representative (aka spokesperson) of the product. The bigger the name, the larger the brand and, accordingly, the fees, which can be anywhere between $1 – $25 million per contract, depending on the product's magnitude. Beyonce just signed a deal with Pepsi – that's huge (yes, bigger than her previous engagements with American Express and Cover Girl).
During preparation for this installment, while I was breaking my head trying to figure out where the hell I am going to get reliable information on current CD sales, download units, number of shows, etc., New York Magazine obliged with an article by Nitsuh Abebe on whether rock stardom is a way to make a living today.
According to this source, a barely known DIY band will sell about 500 CDs, 200 downloads, and 200 streams per each self-released album. That's it. Now, if you multiply these numbers by the per-unit rates provided above, you'll get an idea of the size of the loot. Add to that about 45 shows on the tour of rural bars and college cafeterias. Since nobody knows them, licensing requests occur only in the musicians' dreams. Even if the five members of the group can pop an album every year, the per-person earnings are around $2,700.
A well-respected indie rock band signed to a small label (let's say Arcade Fire – only because I am related to a genius with an unbeatable music intuition, who foretold their prominence back in 2004) may sell over a million records worldwide ("Funeral" went gold both in US and Canada), but the averages run around 125,000 CDs, approximately the same number of downloads, plus 20,000 streams. They can sell out 2000-tickets venues at $25-$45 per tickets on a 30-shows tour. These bands usually have a contingent of hard-core followers, who will be honored to obtain a T-shirt with tour dates proving their presence at the live performance. And while it's not easy to find them on the radio (hence, no royalties), the licensing revenue is a definite possibility (all those TV series!), at the rates that correspond to their acclaim. Let's say the band clears $1 million per album (after paying everyone else). The thing is, though, quality musicians cannot pop out 12 new songs a year. Arcade Fire releases one album every three years. There are 7 members. Annual compensation – $47,619.04 per person (my assistant makes more).
Of course, there are superstars propelled by major music labels into multi-platinum record sales and sold-out stadium shows. I'll say, Adele's 21 certifying 128 times platinum worldwide (over $50 million NET earnings from CDs and downloads alone) is an extraordinary fluke, but Pink and Beyonce usually sell 4 million disks and 5 million downloads per each new album, generating at least $10 million after all expenses are deducted. And while they save themselves and limit their tours to about 20 shows, the sizes of the venues they fill make it worth their while – we are talking anywhere between $10 to $20 million of net revenue per tour.
These are also the people, whose singles we hear every time we turn on not just the radio, but, as one old and wise woman said, even the hair dryer – a few more millions in royalties, licensing fees, and endorsements. It's safe to estimate an average compensation of $30 million per record. Keep in mind that these are the record labels' cash cows (obviously, the executives are much richer than the artists, since they collect their dues from multiple acts – think Russell Simmons with his solid gold toilets), so they are under the constant pressure for repeat performances. The companies will send them into the studios and on the road at least every other year. They will hire a roomful of songwriters and producers to make that happen.
The aforementioned New York Magazine's article paints a picture of a deteriorating industry, where Rihanna, Katy Perry, Adele, and Lady Gaga monopolize the No. 1 position on the charts, and nobody buys new music. My first reaction was like: hell yeah, of course the industry is dying – millions of people steal music in various digital formats nowadays. Software developers shamelessly sell their tools for converting even YouTube videos into MP3s!
This is not the core reason, though. After all, people steal ALL music: the more popular a song, the more it gets ripped. The true problem lies with the general public's tastes (and it's true for all branches of arts and entertainment) – what appeals to people now is a low-brow, unsophisticated, easily digestible crap.
"Back in the day," as some people like to say, musical revolutionaries were among the best-selling artists: The Beatles, The Who, Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin, Queen. In 1991, the top 6 albums were (drumroll, please): Nirvana's Nevermind (US diamond certification = 10 million copies in that first year, plus 30 times platinum the rest of the world), Metallica's Metallica, U2's Achtung Baby, REM's Out of Time, Guns n'Roses Use Your Illusion II, and Pearl Jam's Ten. Only six years later, in 1997, one of Radiohead's best albums (my personal opinion) OK Computer has barely reached double-platinum in the US and triple-platinum in Europe. You know, which album had top sales that year? Spice Girls' Spice - 19.5 million copies worldwide, including 7.4 million in US alone.
The reality is that it's only going to get worse (this is becoming my signature phrase). According to the economic laws, the higher is the demand for the mediocre music, the more of it will be produced. And the real musicians? If they cannot support themselves by doing what they love, they will disappear from the business, writing music just for themselves.
Oh, Peter Pan, the “boy who wouldn’t grow up,” he is so endearing in his never-ending boyishness. He doesn’t care about the adult world problems. His disregard for the laws of physical and emotional gravity allows him to fly without wings and fight pirates with an uncommon valor; but it also propels him out of the windows of the heart-broken girls: Wendy, and her mother Mary Darling before her, and who knows how many more. Really, he belongs in his Neverland.
Yet, Peter Pans live among us. You meet them every day: in your office, on your business trips, in stores and public transportation; you pass them on the street; they may be related to you and you see them across the dinner table. They don’t soar in the air or prance with swords (well, maybe some of them do). Nevertheless, their true nature is that of unabashedly cocky young boys ready for adventures.
Permit me to clarify. We are not talking about physical appearance here. People who look 10-15 years yonger than their age, whether because of their genetic make up or because they treat their bodies right, can be very grown up. I am not talking about those who take part in what society perceives to be “young” activities either. I actually think that people who never stop going to rock concerts and enjoy parasailing in their eighties are on a higher plane of sophistication. No, the subject matter here is the psychological immaturity; the inability to accept the reality of the adult world.
The Peter Pan Syndrome is not officially recognized by the Diagnostic Manual of Mental Disorders. It’s considered to be a “pop-psychology” term. In other words, it’s okay to use it in cultural and social context, but no doctor will get reimbursement by insurance for treating this affliction – there is no code for it. I frequently wonder whether it is a ploy of the closeted Peter Pans of psychology.
Peter Pan of J.M. Barrie‘s story can be recognized right away. The book illustrators even gave him pointy ears, hinting that he is not quite a regular human. But in every-day life they are hidden inside people who appear to be all grown up. Yet, there are certain telltale signs one can pick up right away. It could be a sports car too small for the owner’s body, or a tan in the middle of winter, or a jacket a size too small for a middle-aged banker, a hipster watch on a wrist of a 60-year-old lawyer, a second wife 25 years younger, a newborn child at 57. I’m sure you know what I am talking about.
However, at the end of the day, it’s the personality traits that betray the Peter Pan’s tendencies – the propensity for undisciplined, uncontrolled, irrational, irresponsible, disorderly, intoxicated behavior. But, like with all archetypes, the negative trends coexist with positive potential that manifests itself as a free spirit, unbound instinct, potential for growth, hope for the future, untamed forward drive.
It’s one thing to handle Peter Pans socially and even privately. It’s a completely different matter when you are confronted with men-boys in the work place, especially if one of them is your boss. You have to be very careful: bosses like that think that they are invincible; they believe that they will come out on top in any situation. They take big risks and trust they can get away with anything. If they are lucky, their endeavors may lead the company to brilliant successes. But many of them get smacked against the cruel wall of reality, crash and burn.
One of the most prominent symptoms of the Peter Pan complex is absolute inability to take No for an answer. Many private-business CFOs deal with the childish behavior of their bosses and can fill in the blanks in this conversation:
CEO: I want to…
CFO: We cannot do this…
CEO: Why not? (like a 10-year-old)
CFO: We don’t have… And it’s against… We will jeopardize…
CEO: I want to do it anyway… (like a 5-year-old)
It’s very difficult to find the right way of dealing with an intelligent and talented person, who looks like an adult, but frequently falls into the pits of the child-like stubbornness. The only thing you can do is to be constantly aware of the reality of the syndrome. Hope for the best, but prepare for the worst.
Let me leave you with this popular culture example. Mark
Zuckerberg, a student at Harvard University, threw a tantrum like a
3-year-old boy in a sandbox, when his girlfriend dumped him – he called
her mean names and told her secrets to the entire nursery school. Then he ran out and slammed the door behind him as hard as he could.
The result of it was the creation of a network that pervaded the lives of
hundreds of millions of people all around the world and made him the
youngest billionaire. Now, he will never grow up – he never got a
chance to face the real world. He went from childhood into a fantasy
land. He boasts that he wears the same thing every day. So, does Peter
Pan – the protective uniform of a boy who will never grow up.
The Frustrated CFO 