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Blogger Book Club III: Everyone in the Pool, it’s an e-Swim!

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By Alex Shapiro

This has been a fun week of whuffie for us all. Our lively discussions about Tara Hunt’s book have been picked up and tossed around by a number of other bloggers and sites this week, thus enacting the very concepts of social capital and relationship-building we’ve been typing about. Full circle! If any of us makes a new professional (and remunerative!) contact that came from someone clicking on the link in our by-line here, well, fess up and let folks know. It’s pretty exciting to see positive whuffie in action. The proof is in the posting. Thanks for giving us all a space to hang, Molly. You are the consummate e-host.

For those of us who create, or re-create music, it’s clear that the way we work isn’t either/or, it’s both/and. Traditional methods of building professional relationships that involve physical acts of phone calling, concert going, wine glass holding and… uh… the need to get out of those pajamas and take a shower, will always be important. Pheromones rock! There is no substitute. But all our swirling biochemicals of attraction cannot reach anyone online anywhere in the world at any time of the day or night. Social media gives us the ability to do business 24/7 and open the floodgates of opportunity even as we sleep, while a new client in New Delhi surfs the net and discovers us. Because we put ourselves and our music where it can be discovered. Gertrude Stein’s famous quote about Los Angeles, “there is no there, there” can now be smartly countered by Ram Dass’s “be here now.” The Whuffie Factor reminds us that now, there is here, everywhere.

Molly adds:

As we make towards the door on another book club gathering and say so long, I also wanted to add my thanks to everyone for a really fun week. Appropriately, this was a whuffie-rich experience on the participant level, as well as beyond: people visited often and then spread the word by blog post, by email, by Twitter. They analyzed our analysis and added theirs to the pot.

And as always, if you have comments, complaints, or suggestions related to book club, Mind the Gap, or life in general, or know what book we should read next, please let me know!

Blogger Book Club III: Selling Everything, 2.0–The Jig Goes Public

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This week at the suggestion of composer Alex Shapiro, the Blogger Book Club takes on The Whuffie Factor: Using the Power of Social Networks to Build Your Business by Tara Hunt. Thanks, Alex! I hope it will really open up the chance to think and talk about how music and the related industries we each have contact with are embracing technology and social networking for better and worse. Every time Hunt wrote “business” I mentally substituted “cultural institution” and, whether I agreed with her or not, the ideas popped off the page. Now, here’s Alex to get us started…

By Alex Shapiro

computersuccess.jpg

Those of us who are musicians and composers might think that we’re in the music-making business, but we’re actually in the relationship-making business. In this regard, we’re no different than anyone in any business you can think of which relies on others to use or purchase one’s wares. Each of us is selling all sorts of things that have little or nothing to do with the actual product we are touting, whether what we’re offering is a piece of music, a piece of furniture, a piece of real estate, peace of mind, or even a piece of ass. No, I’m not equating composing with the oldest profession in the world, although I suspect that more than a few of my colleagues have occasionally felt that to be a generous description. But the two do have something significant in common: an attempt to connect with a willing, paying audience.

As artists, we may think that we are selling the product that we create. But in this day and age of what I term “the published life,” in which many of us have a ubiquitous online presence that shares information about everything from our latest opus on our website to our latest ham sandwich on Facebook or Twitter, the truth is this: we are the product as much as our art is the product. The creator and the public perception of him or her, have become an undeniable part of what’s being sold. Even those artists who spurn the enpixelated self-promo world remain subject to its effects, since potential fans interested in their work immediately head to Google to embark on a little due diligence. The jig is up: in the 21st century, whether we choose to don our pajamas, hide in our garrets, and ignore it all, or don our pajamas, hide in our garrets, and participate, the perception of who we are–or at least who we appear to be–is as important as the essence of what we create. Sometimes, even more important.

Enter “whuffie.” Thanks to Cory Doctorow, a number of e-geeks have begun to use the word, which refers to the currency of one’s professional reputation. Author Tara Hunt took it upon herself to delve right in and explore the phenomenon in her thorough book, The Whuffie Factor. In many ways, whuffie is nothing new at all: since the beginning of time, relationships, the perception of people, and their reputations have been what have driven human interaction. There are now two new components: the technology at hand that we use to accomplish this, and the global reach of that technology. Instead of one little village in a cozy Kyrgyzstanian corner knowing about Alex’s Fabulous New Piece due to word of mouth, now Alex and her nifty piece have the potential to be known to millions with one click of a cheap plastic button on a computer keyboard. I’d call that progress, for any artist looking for a fan base, and hoping to get paid in more than just a barter of one donkey and a bushel of potatoes.

I speak publicly about this new way for artists to get their work out into the world to anyone who will listen. My cats know the spiel well. I’m fortunate to have platforms, live and in print, on which to throw down my soap box and shout about the joys of a happy, moat-less castle of art-making that is less dependent on surly gatekeepers than ever before. Living on a remote island that few have even heard of, I’ve become an odd, if functional, poster child for all this newfound e-joy. And yet, I am deeply aware that it takes a significant perception shift for some artists to embrace these concepts.

Adherence to tradition has much to do with some creators’ resistance to change, as emerging artists coming from academic institutions often have professors who tout degrees and grants as the foremost approach to creating a music career, and are taught virtually nothing about publishing, copyright, web presence management, and other staples related to an ability to generate income from their art. Nothing is wrong with this if the artist is not intending to support themselves to a notable degree from their music. But if they would like to make music their professional career, a sense of entitlement will probably be less useful than an understanding of enterprise. Obtaining degrees and grant funding hinges on external efforts and requests. Building whuffie is generated from within, and becomes the currency of a self-administered “grant” program that pays us back throughout our lives.

Artists have every right to be skeptical as they view the the tricky balance between the quality of their creation and its perceived worth. The latter can be judged on aesthetics and content, or solely on a rumor. The arbitrary and sometimes unfair nature of these judgments can make us cringe, because we’ve worked hard to develop our talents to a point where we believe they should be appreciated on their own terms for their intrinsic worth. Yet in a world where people are far more likely to glean the buzz about someone’s work before they actually, or ever, hear the work itself, it may be naïve for an artist seeking paying fans to compartmentalize the creation of the art from the hype about it. In a fully interconnected world, it is nearly impossible to separate the two parts of the process. And this is where Tara Hunt’s The Whuffie Factor kicks in.

One of the limitations of the new music world is its self-referential nature, whereby accepted norms are…accepted norms, and fewer participants think outside of the taco shell. I find myself most stimulated and inspired by the observations of those who are not part of the arts scene, who see the larger trends in society and in the way people communicate. Right now, a working knowledge of the gestalt of the internet and a sense of abundance and global scope when thinking of who might listen to our Nifty New Pieces, may be the best antidote to the scarcity and tribulations of grant monies. Tara Hunt offers what I think is a very solid overview of the huge concept of what it is in this moment, with the tools we have, to build relationships that will build a career. That she is not specifically discussing the small niche of new music but rather the broad world of business, is a boon to artists who want to understand who our listeners are and how we might reach them. Our paying audience is not only each other: it is people from everywhere in the world, many of whom until now would never have been able to find out about us and all our musical niftiness. Whuffie rules.

The Cat Ate My Blackberry

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Summertime is flying by, no? Next week will mark round three of Blogger Book Club, during which the ladies and gents will be gathering to type about The Whuffie Factor: Using the Power of Social Networks to Build Your Business by Tara Hunt. Quick, somebody Twitter about it!

But seriously, I’m expecting this to be a pretty fantastic down and dirty on the subject. We’ve been watching the performing arts community adopt (and in some cases heedlessly lunge and in others scream and kick) their way into social media/web 2.0 technologies. This book seems like a solid way to branch into a discussion of the wondrous potential and the scary, scary sinkholes we’re navigating.

I would like to admit going in that I harbor some skepticism about the “time waste vs potential” here, but I also have to acknowledge that while I’m still on the the early side of 30, I’m came late to blogging and haven’t waded into this pool much deeper than that, so I’m also a very inexperienced judge. A de.licio.us account here, a test run in Friendster back in the day, but really, I’m pretty innocent. Composer Alex Shapiro, however, has wrapped her arms around these applications and discovered all kinds of opportunities and successes, so I’m going to get off my jaded pony and follow her lead next week. I have a feeling my mind is about to get blown.

Related on both the music and social networking sides, the NYTimes reports on Mass Animation’s recently completed short “Live Music,” set to hit theaters in November. The 5-minute animated tale of love between an electric guitar and a violin is headline-making because it was built “using the Wikipedia model, with animators from around the world contributing shots, and Facebook users voting on their favorites,” reports the Times. And talk about crowdsourcing: Michael Lynton, chairman and chief executive of Sony’s entertainment division, tells the paper that he hopes to produce a feature-length film the same way. I don’t know how pro animators feel about this, but the people who contributed to “Live Music,” 51 in all, earned $500 per scene and a film credit.

So the real money line in the Times report is probably this one: “The marketplace — advertising, gaming and, of course, Hollywood — is hungry for content, animated in particular, that is done in a faster, cheaper way. “Live Music” was made for about $1 million and took about six months to complete. Intel, hoping to peddle its new Core i7 processor to animation geeks, was the principal backer.”

The Brave New World of creative commerce, indeed.

Blogger Book Club: Bangers and Mash-ups

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By Alex Shapiro

Marc Weidenbaum’s post below, “Bach to the Future,” reminds us that
floating among the myriad of issues Lawrence Lessig raises in Remix,
from copyright concerns to aesthetic ones, there is also the topic of
psychology, and the resistance many have to to embracing any new,
paradigm-altering technology.

Often when a new technology arrives, people immediately become fearful
that it will replace all that came before it, rather than simply seeing it
as one additional tool in an ever-expanding toolbox.

It’s been exactly thirty years since the invention of the LinnDrum and subsequent drum- and
sample-playback machines, and its arrival has yet to stop people from
banging joyously on hard objects just as they’ve done since cave days.
More is more. More is good. More is fun, and breeds more access to
creativity and thus, breeds more creativity.

This one small example–electronic drum sounds–raises an important
discussion of two distinct issues. First is the complete joy of having
more tools. Fun, fun, fun. Bang on a skin head, or bang on the rubber pad
of a DrumKat that triggers samples, or hit a button or key to trigger
those samples, requiring no banging at all, and all of them result in
drumming sounds. Nifty.

Next is the economic truth that yes, unquestionably, the arrival of new
tools sometimes means that the old tools are instantly obsolete. Often
cited is the buggy whip: once the automobile took over and people no
longer traveled in horse-drawn carriages, the buggy whip industry went
down the tubes. The downside of new technology. Not so nifty, if you were
an expert at making buggy whips.

But in its place were millions of new jobs in a completely new industry.
The upside of new technology. Might be nifty, if you could enjoy a career
that’s… uh… riveting.

When the LinnDrum became popular in the very early ’80s, it began an
enormous sea change in the recording industry and literally put many fine
musicians out of work. At least, out of work doing the kinds of studio
gigs that paid their bills. I can tell you: I was there, working as an
engineer in a rock studio in Hollywood when one of the first retrofitted
MIDI LinnDrums came in (they were invented pre-MIDI), and we all learned
how to program it. That synthetic sound aesthetically defined over a
decade’s worth of pop music. Interesting times for music–all these huge
sounds (to go with the huge shoulder pads and the huge hair)–and a bad
time for drummers. On a session, we’d sometimes use a drummer to trigger
the box by playing an actual drum set, thus melding the old technology
with the new, but just as often we’d simply program a track and have the
band play along with it.

Nonetheless, lots of percussionists were resourceful and found new ways to
ply their craft and their art. Some went with the “if you can’t beat ’em,
join ’em” approach, and made money recording their own sample libraries.
Others continued to work as drummers by becoming “triggerers” and
programmers themselves, since no one can create a MIDI drum track more
convincingly than a real drummer. But neither of these examples has the
drummer being able to purely work as an artist. For that, they created
their own ensembles, and also did what we all need to do in our careers:
they created need. It became clear what the enormous differences are
between synthetic sounds and real ones, and a new class distinction was
made (often due to budget) between the use of sampled musicians, and that
of living, breathing humans dripping beads of sweat onto the drum heads.

Despite all the impressive drum samples out there now, there have never
been more percussionists playing in thousands of wind bands, orchestras
and small concert, jazz, and rock music ensembles around the globe. The
advent of the drum machine technology did not stop people from being
drummers. It just added drum machines.

There persists an irrational fear that if just anybody can have access to
the tools to make art, it lessens the standards for art. Since the
beginning of time, everybody has had the same access to something as
simple as a drum. And yet miraculously, lots of great drummers have
managed to create great careers.

New digital tools are no different. The newfound ability to create
mash-ups from existing material initially recorded by others simply means
that sound and visual artists have yet another medium from which to choose
as they create their own statement (I am ignoring the obvious debate on
copyright issues for the moment). The availability of technology to allow
us to do remixes will not stop the flow of new string quartets.

Most importantly, quality does rise to the top, more than many realize.
The economy of art is largely based on the public’s desire to experience
something. So the difference between an amateur and a professional is as
simple as supply and demand: the latter will almost always be in more
demand. And demand creates the viable economic market for an artist.

We’re in a world in which sampled drums and live ones coexist, often on
the same tracks. We are also in a world in which art is made of original
material from the efforts of one artist, as well as made from original
material culled from many other sources, thus creating a new original
work. Adaptability is why our species has been so successful, yet we are
resistant to it. Many people fear change, especially when the status quo
is working for them. This is human nature, and still, it’s also human
nature to explore and invent. Ultimately, we each invent our own balance.
If we can avoid being fearful of the new and instead, ask ourselves how we
can use it to our advantage, we’ll see technology as a gift and not a
threat, and we’ll view most advances as positive opportunities. Fun, fun,
fun!

Blogger Book Club: Shelf Empowerment

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Some books just insist that you take the topic beyond the page, and so this week I’m super excited to inaugurate Blogger Book Club here at Mind the Gap. First off the shelf for discussion is the sure-to-stir-debate Remix: Making Art and Commerce Thrive in the Hybrid Economy by Lawrence Lessig.

Once upon a time I heard the name Lawrence Lessig mentioned during a panel at a publishing conference, and a room full of adults actually hissed in response. Who was this beast? As it turned out, he was a man with big (and, to some, incendiary) ideas–most of which had reducing the legal reach of copyright at their core. When I saw him on The Colbert Report a couple months back, it was clear he was still rocking boats. 

The Colbert ReportMon – Thurs 11:30pm / 10:30c
Lawrence Lessig

If terms like “intellectual property protection” and “copyright reform” raise your pulse rate, come take a seat on our virtual couch. If you’d like a little background before we get started, you can give the book’s contents a skim here, and there’s a quick capsule summary here.

Now, I’m no Oprah, but I am thrilled to be able to say that the following awesome people overlooked that part and agreed to join the club for this freshman outing:

  • Marc Geelhoed manages the Grammy-winning in-house record label of the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, CSO Resound. He was the first classical critic for Time Out Chicago, where he wrote from 2005 to 2008, and has contributed to Slate, the Financial Times, and the New Statesman.
  • Composer and pianist Matthew Guerrieri‘s writing is always found at the blog Soho the Dog, frequently found in the Boston Globe, and occasionally spotted in NewMusicBox, Slate, and Playbill.
  • Lisa Hirsch lives in Oakland, CA, where she’s a technical writer by day and a music reviewer, blogger, and chorister by night. Read more of her writing at Iron Tongue of Midnight.
  • Saxophonist Brian Sacawa is the executive director of Mobtown Modern, a new music series presented by the Contemporary Museum in Baltimore. He is also the co-founder of the duo Hybrid Groove Project, author of the blog Sounds Like Now, and a fierce bicycle racer.
  • Composer Alex Shapiro aligns note after note with the hope that a few of them might actually sound good next to each other. Alex’s acoustic and electroacoustic works are performed and broadcast weekly across the U.S. and internationally, and can be found on almost twenty commercially released recordings. A former longtime Los Angeles denizen, she was born and raised in Manhattan and now lives on acreage closely supervised by the deer and foxes of Washington state’s San Juan Island. Alex procrastinates on her next piece by updating her website and her blog.
  • Steve Smith is a man out about town Night After Night. He is also the music editor for Time Out New York, a weekly lifestyle, arts and entertainment magazine in New York City, as well as a regular contributor to The New York Times.
  • Marc Weidenbaum writes daily at Disquiet.com (since 1996) about ambient/electronic music and sound art. He’s been published in Nature, NewMusicBox, Down Beat, and Pulse! (where he was an editor for seven years, and edited the comics for a decade), as well as in the manga magazine Shonen Jump (where he was an editor for five years), among other places. In April he’ll have an audio piece in an exhibit at the Crewest Gallery in Los Angeles. He lives in San Francisco’s Richmond District.

Fight or Flight?

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Here in post-election, post-Juan Williams-dismissal America, music blogger Matthew Guerrieri has perhaps best characterized the scene before us:

This is the third election cycle in a row driven by one emotion–throw the bums out–which rather implies to me an electorate driving around, hopelessly lost, but too stubborn to stop and ask for directions.

In a world where political rallies double as performance art, public funding for the arts is once again a hot topic of discussion. At Sticks and Drones, conductor Bill Eddins plays provocator with a post suggesting “a revolutionary idea: kill the NEA.” He kicks up some interesting ideas about the potential impact of removing the public arts funding whipping post from the political playing field, and has inspired some equally interesting reactions from readers.

Elsewhere, government plans to cut arts funding generated a cry of protest of a decidedly different bent.

[via the headmistress over at Notes from the Kelp]

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