Archive for July, 2009

  • July 31, 2009

    If I Were An Unpublished Music Writer

    I’d start a blog and write about everything that excites and horrifies me about music.

    I’d write something worth publishing every day.

    I’d include visual elements that offer supporting evidence to each story.

    I’d watch and write about at least one live band every week.

    I’d rewrite what I wrote until the story was devoice of cliché, and I’d edit until only the story’s bare essentials remained.

    I didn’t know any of this when I decided to start writing about music in June 2007. I didn’t try to find the answers; I didn’t ask questions. I just wrote about some shows that I got to see for free, and thought that was reward in itself.

    I’ve changed, of course. I’m a better writer in that I’m less shit. I’m mindful of what I write. I finish a draft and immediately remove anything that I’d have written two years ago. This internal quality control requires discipline. It’s mentally exhausting. But the goal should always be to tell the story smartly and succinctly.

    I’d establish my favourite Australian music sites and study their best writers closely.

    I’d send the links to the best stories on my blog to the editors of my favourite sites every week.

    I’d send the links to the best stories on my blog to my favourite published music writers every week.

    I’d ignore street press and write for the web.

    Street press is a siren’s call to the young Australian music writer. The allure of free tickets and the anti-glamour of writing for a small group of passionate music fans captures many. I have no regrets of writing for street press: its influence afforded me many excellent musical experiences, and many opportunities to improve my writing. Of course, there’s the thrill of seeing your name in print for the first time. (It’s still a buzz, two-plus years on.)

    But I’d hope that there’s music writers younger than me who’ll shirk the notion that you’ve got to cut your teeth on street press and its fixed format. I won’t describe the benefits of writing about music on the web, as Andrew Ramadge already did that brilliantly.

    You can write for FasterLouder, who’ll publish your words in front of an audience in exchange for thanks. I wouldn’t discourage any music writer from beginning their journey there, as you’re mostly free to approach a story however you please. (Whether this is advantageous is up to you.)

    Or you can write for Mess+Noise, who’ll publish your words in front of an audience in exchange for money. The learning curve here for a street press- or FasterLouder-styled writer is steep, as I’ve discussed. They won’t publish just anything; the site’s reputation hinges on this ideal. But if you’re serious about this – becoming a music writer – the barrier to entry will inspire excellence in your work.

    (Note: This post was inspired by Shaun Prescott‘s ‘Flogging A Dead Horse… Still‘)

    4 Comments / Writing /

  • July 26, 2009

    Bachelor Of Communication

    Is it arrogant for me to state that my Bachelor Of Communication is worthless? Probably.

    Aside from being a physical reminder of my ability to (somewhat) focus on a goal for three-plus years, a degree is only useful if a potential employer needs to check that box before hiring me. Since I don’t see myself applying for a job that requires a résumé ever again, can you see why I feel this way?

    Andrew McMillen became Andrew McMillen, BComm on July 24 2009. An old dude who speak at the ceremony said to my fellow graduands something along the lines of: “Having invested years of your life studying here at the University Of Queensland, you understand that a university education is more than simply attending lectures and handing in assignments.”

    Cue sniggers, because that’s exactly what I found my university education to be: a matter of attending lectures and handing in assignments. Essentially, doing enough to pass, without extending myself.

    Why didn’t I extend myself? A good question. The old dude was hinting that a university education is what you make of it. There was a whole lot of extracurricular bullshit like networking, volunteering and university politics that absolutely didn’t interest me. So I opted to show up to class occasionally, hand in assignments, and do enough to pass.

    I suppose I always felt that studying Communication was a waste of my time. The cute summary of the program I give to people is that Communication is half journalism, half media studies. And entirely rooted in events that happened decades ago; practices that were established centuries ago.

    Why didn’t I quit? Another good question. I’ve made it clear that I don’t value the certificate that’ll sit in my closet for eternity. I guess I took the easy way out by sticking to what I’d started, rather than course-correcting from what I constantly felt was a misguided pathway. Call it parental pressure, call it social expectation; my boss last year told me I’d be fired if didn’t finish the degree. Another example of me not wanting to rock the boat, not wanting to cause a scene, not wanting to stray from the presupposed outcome I’ve allowed others to dictate since high school, even while feeling nothing toward the journey itself.

    As I write this, I feel a misguided arrogance tickling the edge of my consciousness. It prompts me to spout something like: “Almost everything I was instructed to learn and understand throughout my degree was written at a time before the internet! Newspapers are dying, traditional journalists are displaced! The internet changed everything! That a university education is valuable is a fucking fallacy!”

    That’s my irrational response to this discussion. I’ve attempted to curtail it many times, both psychologically and in conversation, but it still tends to rear its head. I know there are a thousand arguments against what I just wrote; entertain me with them if you wish.

    I won’t pretend to empathise with my fellow graduates, Communication or otherwise. But as I sat among the hundreds, I thought thoughts like:

    • How many of them feel entitled to the certificate they’re about to receive?
    • How many of them feel that they deserve to walk right into a job, a career, simply because they passed classes for a couple of years?
    • How many of them are prepared for the world in which we live – one that values the sharing of ideas rather than the submission of formulaic assignments that fit into predetermined criteria?
    • How many are going to proudly call themselves ‘professional communicators’ for the rest of their lives, without irony?
    • How many are going to fail to realise how sad it is to self-define by a Bachelor/Doctorate/Master ‘of’?
    • How many of them blog?

    I’d like to think that I’m being realistic, here, expressing these sentiments. Refusing to accept that life is as easy as the steps set out by the people who run the business of tertiary education: study, degree, career, happiness, death.

    The cylinder is empty. I SENSE A METAPHOR

    I’d like to think that I’m being honest with myself, and that I’m achieving something by sharing my feelings of discontent.

    I’d like to think that I’m being pragmatic by shrugging off congratulations; the myth that completing a degree is worthy of recognition.

    But it’s probably pretty clear that my assertions are filled with contradictions, hypocrisy and half-truths. I’m not looking for reassurance. I know where I want to be and who I want to represent, and I know that I didn’t need a certificate to signify either.

    Maybe I’m alone on this among my peers, but I’d hope not. It’d make things a lot easier for me were they that delusional, but mostly I’d just pity them.

    Kind of ironic that the graduation ceremony’s guest speaker, ABC reporter and journalist Chris Masters – whose speech greatly inspired and motivated me – has been awarded honorary doctorates and degrees, but chose to never set foot within a university.

    It’s not all bad. My time at university prompted me to write the first post on this site, in May 2008. That single decision – inspired by frustration and helplessness – pointed me in what felt like the right direction. Namely, far from sandstone hallways and dull classrooms.

    Thanks for boring me into action, University Of Queensland! IOU $16,306.

    13 Comments / Writing /

  • July 26, 2009

    The Music Network story: ‘For The Record: An Album Retrospective Part 2′, July 2009

    In the second piece of a five-part puzzle, Andrew McMillen examines the digitally-inspired shift in consumer habits away from the long-established album format. This week, Andrew highlights portable playlist control as a key component in the reduced reliance placed upon the album by music consumers.

    In last week’s column, I discussed the history of the album format, from the revolutionary, 45 minute-long LP through to the rising costs of compact discs. Now, take your imagination on a mental walk to your music collection. Stand before the shelves and admire your beloved classics, your blinding debuts, your middling sophomores, your utter disappointments, and the hidden atrocities that you’re embarrassed to have purchased.

    There’s an enormous nostalgia value attached to your record collection, whether in actual LP format or CDs. Few cultural topics are as divisive and subjective as one’s music taste. I’m certainly not writing off the value of the album in its entirety; that’d be madness. But why is it that you fondly fondle some albums, and not others? To use a cricketing metaphor: why do some releases hit you for six, while others barely make the length of the pitch?

    So, what'll it be? Barenaked Ladies or Pink Floyd? (photo credit flickr user gsimmonsonca)To elaborate on the latter example: picture the average album you’d buy from a store – perhaps not in this era, since both CD shelf space and CD merchants continue to dwindle – but ten years ago. Hypothetically, the disc is likely to be front-loaded with some great songs. They’re the ones that you’re likely to have heard before you bought the album. These strategically-placed songs are the ones that either – or both – the band and record label wanted you to hear first and enjoy first.

    Then you’d get to the second half of the album and, more than likely, you’d find a dramatic reduction in the quality of songwriting. As with any conversation regarding music, this is an entirely subjective topic of discussion, but there’s not a music fan reading who hasn’t experienced the phenomenon of an album’s proverbial tail failing to wag.

    As I wrote last week, the recorded music industry has revolved around the album for decades. Record deals, release schedules, pricing structure, the touring cycle, the catchy lead single, album reviews; these choreographed industry institutions are all funneled toward the end goal of selling albums. Music consumers were tied to the album format as a force of habit, since it was by far the most convenient method to listen to music. In the LP era, it was easier to let an album play from beginning to end, rather than painstakingly searching for the groove that contained the beginning of your favourite tracks.

    But portability heralded a substantial change in listening habits; the now-ubiquitous MP3 audio compression algorithm was a mere twinkle in German audio scientists’ eyes when Sony released the Walkman to the public in 1979. The device used cassette tapes, which allowed listeners to use headphones to play audio recordings while on the move. This led to label-released albums and singles finding a wide audience, and the proliferation of home taping from sources such as the radio, television, and your existing record collection. The ‘mixtape’ was born!

    The Walkman’s successor, Sony’s Discman, was released in 1984. The CD-based player allowed a greater freedom from the comparably imprecise Walkman method of fast-forwarding and rewinding through a cassette to find your favourite tracks. But the device was still tied to the concept of the album: while songs could be played in a ‘random’ order – an important precursor to Apple’s iPod Shuffle – it could only handle a disc at a time.

    Forward-thinking, back-looking. (photo credit flickr user Neil101)That listening habit was exploded when CD burning technology allowed listeners to compile the circular equivalent of mixtapes, without the cassette-associated fuss. As the audio filetype known as MP3 became easier for the masses to acquire online, consumer attitudes to music further deviated from the past when the first digital audio players became available in the late 1990s.

    Commonly known as MP3 players, these devices allowed a user to transfer CDs encoded in the MP3 audio filetype onto a portable hard drive that could play the files. For the first time, a listener could store their favourite songs in a portable format that could be ordered on-the-fly, as desired. No rewinding or fast-forwarding, no moving parts; control had been placed into the fan’s hands.

    Several unremarkable forays into the digital audio player market from Rio and Compaq set the stage for Apple, whose first generation, exclusively Mac-compatible iPod debuted in October 2001. A Windows-friendly version of the device followed in 2002; frequently-released incremental iterations have boosted its worldwide sales in excess of 210 million, according to the Associated Press.

    Apple’s success in the digital audio player market can be attributed to their user-friendly design and savvy marketing. Their devices satisfied a demand for portable music that’d gathered momentum since the Walkman’s debut. The twin Apple successes of the iPod and the iTunes Music Store – which will be covered in greater depth next week – are evidence that listeners prize portable playlist control, after decades of passively absorbing albums from start to end.

    This newfound control is central to understanding the shift from albums as the key organising principle behind music dissemination. Industry analyst Bob Lefsetz wrote on his Lefsetz Letter website in August 2006: “The track has been disengaged from the album. The label wants an album budget, producers, a full-length that they can charge in the neighborhood of ten dollars wholesale for. No matter that no radio station goes deep and neither do the fans.”

    He’s hinting at the killer-versus-filler argument that’s as old as the industry itself. While there’ll always be pleasure gained by experiencing a classy, calculated collection of songs from beginning to end – see Perth post-hardcore act Eleventh He Reaches London‘s 2009 release, for example – writers like Lefsetz and myself argue that the record industry’s unending fascination with the album as the definitive musical product is misleading and erroneous.

    The record industry’s perceived market expectations are the driving force behind the unending push for more albums. This wouldn’t be problematic – for artists, labels, or listeners – if real supply met perceived demand. Instead, album sales have declined worldwide, while sales of individual songs – key singles often released to radio so as to promote an album – continue to climb.

    Oh god, get it off me! (photo credit flickr user pinkbelt)In 2009, artists shouldn’t automatically sprint toward the album endpoint as a result of historical programming. Their creative output shouldn’t be stretched to meet the 45 minute/12 track (whichever comes first) expectation, just so that the parties involved can proudly call it an album. In an era where more music is being written, recorded and performed each day than at any other point in history, an artist shouldn’t throw together words, chords and beats just to meet an expectation built upon a decades-old concept.

    The question that I put forth is simple: why continue to push acts toward the goal of the album release, instead of working with artists to determine the most appropriate method of releasing their recorded work? Next week, I’ll further investigate the divide between the recording industry’s historical expectations and current consumer habits.

    Brisbane-based Andrew McMillen writes for several Australian music publications. He can be found on Twitter (@NiteShok) and online at http://andrewmcmillen.com/

    (Note: This is part two of an article series that first appeared in weekly Australian music industry magazine The Music Network issue #745, July 6th 2009. Read the rest of the series: part one, part three, part four and part five)

    8 Comments / Music Journalism, Published Writing /

  • July 23, 2009

    The Music Network story: ‘For The Record: An Album Retrospective Part 1′, July 2009

    In a five-part series, Andrew McMillen will examine the digitally-inspired shift in consumer habits away from the long-established album format. He begins with the history surrounding the album, and the hints at the consumer unease that has led to its reduced importance within the remodeled recording industry.

    Cast your mind back 10 years.

    As a music fan in 1999, you’d read music magazines and listen to the radio to garner information regarding upcoming releases from your favourite artists. You’d talk about your expectations and predictions to your friends in person, and strangers online. You’d hear the lead single on the radio and see it on the television a couple of weeks before the album was due. You’d visit your favourite record store on launch day and pay $20-30 to own the compact disc containing an act’s latest music and artwork.

    Shawn Fanning on the cover of Time Magazine. Intimidating!Or if you were really cluey, you’d use an online software application called Napster to find a fan who’d encoded the CD into the MP3 format. You’d download the CD from them for $0.

    1999 was the year that the recording industry was irreversibly changed by Napster, which circumvented the needs of millions of music fans worldwide. No longer were we forced to travel to a record store during business hours in order to buy a CD. Instead, we could download the audio in passable quality from our homes, burn the data onto a blank CD, and freely distribute these recordings to our friends.

    The recording industry’s response to the Napster quandary is well-documented elsewhere, and it’s not the focus of this series of columns. Instead, we’re investigating the history of the album, which is commonly known as a recording of different musical pieces.

    But why the album? How come we’re so used to artists releasing a collection of ten to fifteen songs every couple of years, comprising between 30 and 80 minutes of music?

    It first appeared a hundred years ago. Tchaikovsky’s Nutcracker Suite was released by the German label Odeon in 1909. The first album in the history of the recording industry comprised four double-sided 78 RPM discs, and was sold in a collection that resembled a photo album.

    These recordings were a big deal at the time. You could use a record player to listen to music in your home, at your leisure! Crikey!

    Then came the 33 1/3 RPM vinyl discs known as LPs. Short for long-play, LPs were first mass produced by Columbia Records in 1948 and came in two diameters: 10- and 12-inch. The latter format was initially reserved for premium-priced Broadway theatre and classical recordings, while popular music appeared solely on 10-inch discs. This early discrepancy in the history was caused by record company executives, who misjudged the commercial appeal of non-Broadway and classical recordings. By the mid-1950s, the 10-inch LP was discontinued. It reappeared in the late 1970s as extended-play mini-albums, which are also known as EPs.

    Show me your vinyl and I'm show you mineUp until the release of the LP, musicians had accepted that – owing to the limitations of the 78 RPM format – they could only record songs that were shorter than four minutes in duration. Double-sided releases were common, which resulted in the distinction between the A-side – the featured song that was most desirable for radio play – and an additional song, known as the B-side.

    The LP format could contain up to 45 minutes of music, which was divided into two sides. Record labels and recording artists were faced with a new window of opportunity, wherein they were no longer confined to a series of four minute-long creations. Once the format gained market dominance, musicians and producers realised that they could use continuous playback to maintain elements of style and mood between songs, or to promote thematic continuity in the form of concept albums.

    As the record industry matured, LPs were no longer just a collection of singles released in a streamlined format in order to increase sales. Decades of ‘single’ releases led to ‘album-as-art’ aesthetics, wherein the industry’s stakeholders – musicians, listeners, and labels alike – came to rely on innovative, creative uses of the LP format.

    By the 1960s, record companies were employing artist and repertoire (A&R) representatives to approach emerging acts with recording contracts. These were commonly known as record deals, wherein an artist or band would agree to record an album – or series of albums – that the record label would subsequently sell and promote.

    And therein began the rot.

    As the record industry became comfortable with the album format, they sought out the acts most likely to help them sell their products. The compact disc (CD) format was ushered into the market in 1983; annual sales in the US rose from 800,000 in the first year of production to 288 million by 1990, and almost 1 billion per year by the turn of the century.

    But after being seduced by major labels’ reputable names and marketable reach, artists found themselves locked into increasingly-shortened ‘write, record, tour’ schedules. This was the dream of musicians the world over, sure. To make a living from writing, recording and touring their music. But few would have dreamed of comprising their artistic vision, or rushing to complete unfinished material in order to meet a label’s release schedule.

    This photo was allegedly taken while recording Passion Pit's album, but it really could be from any studio ever.As a musician ten years ago, commercial success was largely dependent on signing a huge chunk of your profit away to a corporate entity who had the cash with which to line the pockets of the corporations that controlled the interdependent businesses of radio, music television, touring and record stores.

    This was the era of the widely-quoted figure: for every successful album, a major label released nine failures. But these businesses could afford to buy musical talent en masse and sign these emerging songwriters and performers to an album-release contract, then drop them if their commercial appeal faltered.

    Rarely were artists afforded time to find their feet and cultivate their best material; not with the clock ticking, the recoupable expenses climbing, and the label’s stakeholders demanding quarterly growth figures. No way!

    Of course, I’m painting an exaggerated picture on a slightly-skewed canvas. There have been success stories on both major and independent record labels throughout the history of recorded music. But the latter were all but hidden from the view of the average music consumer, who only paid attention to the acts who were charting near the top on radio and television and playing arenas.

    For decades, the recorded music industry revolved around the album: the record deals, the release schedules, the pricing structure, the touring cycle, the album reviews, the catchy lead single that’d inspire consumers to purchase the album. But ten years ago, Napster-induced cracks began to appear in the established business model.

    From the Walkman to its brother, the Discman, and from the burning of CDs to the rise of Apple’s iPod, the digital generation ushered in a massive shift in music consumer demand. Next week, I’ll highlight portable playlist control as a key component in the reduced reliance placed upon the album by music consumers.

    Brisbane-based Andrew McMillen writes for several Australian music publications. He can be found on Twitter (@NiteShok) and online at http://andrewmcmillen.com/

    (Note: This is part one of an article series that first appeared in weekly Australian music industry magazine The Music Network issue #744, June 29th 2009. Read the rest of the series: part two, part three, part four and part five)

    9 Comments / Music Journalism, Published Writing /

  • July 18, 2009

    Drowned In Sound opinion piece: ‘RIP Music Journalism?’, July 2009

    Everett True, July 14:

    Hey Andrew

    Do you fancy bashing out 600w relating roughly to the changing role of the tastemaker music critic in web 2.0? I’m interested particularly on your own perspective, as a (relatively) new critic, trying to establish your own voice or authority via whatever means necessary (print/web). Does that appeal? No money, sorry. But plenty of kudos. Sigh.

    My response, July 17:

    I chose to become a music critic in Brisbane, Australia as a stupid 19-year old in June 2007, after reading a factually incorrect and otherwise poorly written review of a show that I’d attended. Two years later, I’d like to think that my critical analysis skills have markedly improved, but I’d probably be disappointed.

    I was surprised when Everett asked me to contribute to this topic. True and I have butted heads in the past, following that Guardian column with which you’re surely familiar. I experienced the same irrational reaction as most Australians who heard that he’d dismissed some of our so-called cultural icons (Silverchair, The Vines et al) – and felt some vague, nationalistic desire to defend the attack on our musicians.

    With tentative maturity, I’m able to step back and realise that True’s column evoked the role of the music critic in its purest form. Ignoring the overused angle that this was an Englishman taking swipes at Australians, True’s words raised the nation’s ire because he had the balls to embrace the true role of the music critic – a role which I rarely embody, voluntarily. And therein lies the original complaint: that so few are willing to write what so many feel.

    I am a diluted version of the tastemaker critic with which older readers will identify – and which True became during his time at NME, Melody Maker and Plan B – largely because I tend to only write about music that excites me. While I agree there’s something to be gained by fairly critiquing half-baked or undeservingly over-exposed acts, it’s a writing style that I’ve distanced myself from. And, as True correctly surmised, so has the majority of Australia’s music press.

    There’s an enlightening article by Andrew Ramadge on the Australian music website Mess+Noise that discusses the broader causes and effects of the dearth of honest criticism in Australian street press – that is, the free, ad-filled newspapers you pick up off the street. Ramadge’s piece belongs at the heart of this discussion, as it highlights the increasing divide between print and online music journalism.

    “One of the most important roles of music journalists is to record the history, or create the folklore, of a particular time – to give music a context and a narrative,” Ramadge wrote. So to be a music journalist in the first place, you’ve got to want to to tell stories. It was this desire that led me down this career path – and I should point out that music writing has finally become a personal career-of-sorts, after I viewed it as a mere hobby for nearly two years.

    But – why write about music in the first place? This is a topic that other writers have already touched upon this week. It surely wasn’t about money when I began. I was first published on the Australian music website FasterLouder, who pay none of their hundreds-strong contributor pool across the nation. It’s an excellent business model – pay nothing, receive content for free – but the low stakes often mirror the quality of writing. I attempted to rail against the apathy and mediocrity by writing long, descriptive live reviews that maximised the benefits of the online format. With debatable success.

    At the same time, I began writing for one of Brisbane’s street press, Rave Magazine. Ramadge’s article suggested: “In many cases [street press] writers are paid as little as five cents per word for a story, and nothing for a review, with the CD or concert ticket considered payment in itself.” To say that Rave’s pay rates were modest would be understatement. Again, it’s a labour of love, but there’s only so much to be gained from adhering to the same format each week. Another of online publishing’s benefits.

    Mr True was also startled to learn that in two years writing for street press and FasterLouder, I’d never had a rewrite request. It wasn’t until I progressed to Mess+Noise that I was pulled up for sub-par copy. This is an extremely niche example based on my experience, but I’m supposing that this unwillingness for time-poor editors to provide guidance and advice to their writers may be symptomatic of a trend throughout Australia.

    While there’ll always be those who are willing to write passionately for free, one eventually reaches a point where $0 – or close enough – can’t cut it anymore. I’d wager that this is a feeling with which most music journalists will be familiar. Right, Everett?

    Print revenue streams are drying up, while online publishing is in a cautious period of course-correction. To quote Ramadge once more: “[the low pay rates] make it difficult for magazines to retain talented writers as their career progresses, or their costs of living rise.”

    There’s no money in this column. There’s no money in Everett’s guest edit. We do this because we love it. I’m far from a miser, but some money on occasional would be nice. As a freelance writer in Australia with an interest in music, there are few profitable avenues. There are only so many publications that’ll pay for well-researched, well-written music journalism, and they’re steadily decreasing.

    Where does this leave the state of music journalism, in the mind of this 21-year old Australian? It’s a given, but you’ve got to do it because you love it, first and foremost. Don’t ever expect thanks in return for your writing; indeed, do your best to expect nothin’ from nobody. That way, it’s hard to be disappointed.

    But do pursue passionate communities organised around a love of music and writing, such as Drowned In Sound. Do start a blog that acts as your portfolio. Do send your work to those who may gain something from it. Do write wherever you can, and do be prepared to write for free.

    After all, you’re a music journalist. You love it. Don’t you?

    Read the rest of the ‘RIP Music Journalism?‘ series on Drowned In Sound. Thanks for the invitation to give my input, Everett!

    4 Comments / Music Journalism, Published Writing /

  • July 17, 2009

    A Conversation With Jess, Sydney Digital Strategy Director and SomethingChanged.com.au blogger

    *facepalm*It just so happens that Jess is Digital Strategy Director at a mysterious Sydney advertising agency. She won’t say which, and she also won’t let me publish her surname. Or at leaIt’s not because she’s scared or nothin’, but on the internets, Jess is best known as the curator of a rather excellent blog called Something Changed, about which I wrote lovingly for FourThousand:

    “Something Changed acts as Jess’ digital scrapbook, where she posts about new media, advertising, online campaigning, representations of the self, kids today, words, writing and books, funny things on the internets, politics, art, ideas, music, work, food, and sydney. The result is an aggregate of content that you’ll probably find either funny or fascinating if you’re a twenty-something who spends a lot of time online – and since you’re reading this, it’s not an unfair assumption to make.”

    Jess, why did you start Something Changed? Was there an influential person or moment that encouraged its creation?

    I started Something Changed almost two years ago because I was fascinated by people’s behaviour on the internet and I wanted to document my discoveries. It was partly so I could archive and remember facts, figures and links more efficiently, and partly to have something to show for the immense amount of reading and research I do! I discovered Tumblr through Gawker’s exhaustive coverage of Jakob Lodwick and Julia Allison‘s relationship which largely played out on the Tumblr platform. Tumblr was perfect for me because I like to present raw data that interests me as I find it, rather than crafting long posts.

    Where do you find the majority of the articles that you link?

    On Tumblr you can post stuff you create, post stuff that you find online, or use their reblog feature (which is sort of an automatic “retweet” feature) to post other’s content with a link crediting them. About 75 per cent of what I blog is from the second category. I find it by either investigating a topic that interests my by searching and following links, setting up RSS feeds to my favourite blogs and websites, and by following people who I respect and who will post things I find interesting.

    Does your exhaustive online presence ever spill into your professional life? Do your workmates know of the blog?

    In fact the internet IS my job, lucky me! I work for an ad agency where I am the digital strategy director. Since I work on campaigns and strategy it’s considered part of my work. My workmates and bosses definitely know of the blog, I bang on about it exhaustively. In fact my boss promised to buy me a cake when I passed a big milestone in the amount of readers I had, but I passed it ages ago and he is still yet to come through. Two of them have started Tumblrs themselves. We all love the internet at work.

    Why the anonymity?

    Well I’m not really sure now! I was doing some big work for clients around which there is some sensitivity, and I didn’t want any posts to be taken out of context and my personal views being ascribed to the client. I think in the next few months I’ll probably get with the times and put up my full name. I’ve noticed all my peers in my industry do.

    Do you often give thought to how you portray yourself online and the legacy you’re building, or do you just throw it all out there?

    RING RING, BANANAPHONE!

    Something Changed started as mainly a vehicle for professional development and research and largely it still is. I barely ever talk about myself (apart from “I saw this, I read this, I ate this, I visited this”) or my feelings. So at worst it will be a record of what interested me at different stages of my life, which is fine. Thank god I have never posted a poem or ruminations on my relationships.

    What do you think Something Changed adds to the web?

    Lots of people in marketing and advertising view the internet from very very far away with a telescope. The world does not need another “how to be a powerblogger” blog or post on “how to measure social media ROI”. I like to think I see the raw internet – the amazing stuff people create, the intense stuff people say about their lives and feelings, the fascinating ways they represent themselves online. Then I try and distill that onto my blog. It’s like a little field study from an anthropologist completely embedded in the culture they observe. Having said that, I don’t recommend people see my blog as anything special – instead they should set up their own!

    As you said, you barely ever talk about yourself. But you also barely ever talk about why you find something interesting, or worthwhile posting.

    You’re right. I tend to like information that I view as primary sources – people who produce things from scratch, whether it’s blog posts about their lives of feelings, collating things that inspire them, producing amazing things likes videos or songs. Or academic analysis- people who take rigorous, well-informed approach to analyzing the internet and its sociology.

    I don’t have time for anything in between, that whole raft of “people who don’t really understand the internet talking in vague general terms about the internet.”

    I have things I definitely won’t post, like anything about swine flu, anything about that Best Job in the World tourism campaign, or tips to become a Twitter poweruser.

    Do many of your non-ad agency friends follow the blog? How do you describe the blog to a real-life friend?

    None of my friends that I’ve known forever are in the ad industry. They all read it, sporadically. When I refer to my blog I adopt a stupid mocking tone and say “my blawg.” If they ask about it I give a knowing smile and say, “I’m so famous on the internet you guys.” If a waiter takes ages to take our drink orders I’m like, “this would never happen to me on the internet.”

    You and I both spend a lot of time online. I’ve gotten to the point where I’ve develop a kind of bias in the way that I access information online. I start to overstate the way that I operate and assume that others follow similar methods; if they don’t, I become either amused or frustrated, depending on my mood. But that’s a curious aside. When did you become a heavy internet user, and how did your skills develop to the point that they’re at now? (Because let’s face it, good internets is a skill.)

    I know exactly what you mean. Good internet is definitely a skill. I am totally self taught, I didn’t even have email until 2000 or 2001. In 2003, someone at uni said, “email me a draft of your paper” and I said, “oh it’s pretty long for an email,” and then attachments were explained to me. I couldn’t use a digital camera until 2004. I couldn’t pirate music! It all sounds a bit embarrassing now.

    It was in 2005 then that I started using the internet heavily because I joined some forums. Before that, I had always thought of the “web” quite disparagingly, “who are these people? Read a book, or go outside.” Now it’s completely a part of my daily routine. It’s really changed my life – how I think, what inspires me, how I work, the people I’ve met.

    It’s helped that I can do it all day everyday at my work. Spending ten hours a day on something is a good way to get quite good at something. In every role I’ve had in my career, to do a good job I need insight into what people think and feel, a creative spark to generate ideas, and a plan to my implement strategy. So the internet is crucial to every single element, and my employers have always let me have free reign to work that way.

    Do you keep a private journal?

    No! I’m too self-conscious. If I want to remember how I felt about something, I do a keyword search in my Gmail and cringe at old emails I wrote my friends.

    How did you become digital strategy director at your agency? Was ‘good internets’ part of the job description?

    I met the CEO of my agency when I consulted on online strategy on a big national campaign he was working on. A few months later my position was created for me when I said I was ready for a new job – so there was actually no job description! I’m so lucky now that I get to do what I love with the cleverest team and the best clients.

    Neighbours: Fucking TerribleThe career path to Digital Strategy Director was not an obvious one. I was a journalist, then moved to Melbourne and could not immediately get a journalism job so I got a job doing the overseas publicity for Neighbours [pictured right *snigger*]. I only got the job because at the interview I told the producer, “You know it’s not too late to make Izzie’s baby Jack’s,” or something. Since I was spending my days trying to get freelance writing work I had had plenty of time to watch Neighbours fortunately.

    Of course part of my job was to look after the BBC’s Neighbours website. It was my first taste of a really intense online fan community. They had a forum and everything. I learnt so much from that job. That an official website will never be as fascinating as a fan website unless you let go of the PR reigns (why would you want to read about an actors’ theatre aspirations on our site when you could go to an unofficial site to read about their love life?). That fans create the best material, that fans really get upset if you make changes without consulting them. It was a crash course in Internet.

    Then I got to do my dream job being the Online Director doing national political campaigning, where I learnt about building movements – uniting people around taking action online and offline to achieve social change. Then I consulted on another big campaign, then I got this job. I always think of that thing people say, “the jobs the youth of today will be doing when they grow up haven’t even been invented yet.” At our Careers Centre at school they basically said girls could be Lawyers, Accountants, Gallery Curators or PRs.

    I’m assuming that you went to university. Tell me about your time there.

    I did! I went to uni to study English thinking I would have a career doing some kind of writing. In first year I became interested in social justice issues and for the first time paid attention to politics and current affairs. Before then I was strictly a reading, writing, art galleries, theatre type of person. So uni was fun, I did the student politics/share house/shop at Salvos/“feed yourself on $5 a day” thing until my last year. Then I got a full time newspaper journalism cadetship, and had to do my Honours year full time at the same time.

    Was that a difficult year? Did you ever question what you were doing?

    It was difficult. Fortunately it was things I loved doing – researching and writing. I’m also one of those people who needs to be busy to get things done. I like approaching big tasks (daily deadline of journalism combined with a yearly deadline of handing in a thesis) and strategically breaking them down in an efficient way. Having said that, I am never studying again. And whenever my friends say “I’m thinking of going back to uni,” I always say “NO! YOU FORGET HOW HARD IT IS!”

    How did you land the cadetship? Was it shit or awesome?

    I can't think of an alt-text for this one. It's a pretty sweet photo though, don't you think?

    I decided suddenly I wanted to be a journalist so I got a two week cadetship at a newspaper. I was lucky they gave it to me because I think now they only take people studying Proper Journalism at uni – a bit short sighted in my opinion, but I think it’s because the universities provide insurance. I got a story in the paper almost every day, including a huge feature on mobile phone use that was published in the Features liftout on the Saturday. The story is completely lame and I am so glad it’s not accessible by Google.

    After my two weeks the Chief of Staff said they were hiring a cadet, and would I like to apply? I said “yes”. I interviewed and didn’t get it – someone else did. But a few weeks later they phoned and said I could be a cadet anyway. So that’s how I got the job, and now the other cadet is one of my best friends. The cadetship was amazing. Every day as a general news reporter is different and being a journalist is like having a license to walk up to anyone and ask them anything you want.

    Do you read newspapers? Could you imagine being a full-time news reporter?

    I only read newspapers on the weekends: the Australian, the Sydney Morning Herald, Sunday Sun Herald and Sunday Telegraph. I get rid of all the Drive, Careers, Business and rubbishy sections. Then read the news, then the Lifestyle, then glossy lifestyle supplements. It’s a habit. Print will never die while people have weekend brunch routines to uphold.

    I can’t imagine being a full-time news reporter. I would love the thrill of finding a big story but miss the calming routine of planning and strategising in advance. I get a nice mix of thrillingly busy versus long term planning in my current work, so I wouldn’t go back.

    Lots of people view their time at university as instrumental in their personal development. What did you learn about yourself during that time?

    I learnt the same thing at uni that has proved true in the workplace. Studying and work (doing your actual job as per your job description) teaches you nothing. You have to do it and do it well. But everything fun, amazing, professionally exciting or leading to personal growth has always been thanks to things I do on the side. Whether that’s groups I joined at uni, friends I made on the internet, ideas and projects I’ve suggested at work, or new career opportunities I’ve conjured up. When I think about what my life would be like without my blog that I randomly started a few years ago… I just can’t imagine it!

    Something Changed is my favourite Australian blog. You’d best subscribe via email or RSS. Unsurpisingly, Jess is also quite lively on Twitter. Thanks for the interview, Jess!

    3 Comments / Conversations /

  • July 7, 2009

    Free freelance writing advice from Lucy Robertson, Australian writer and sub-editor

    Lately I’m of the belief that the best way to learn is to study and ask questions of those who’re older than me. This realisation only dawned on me after I noticed that I was paying the most attention not to my peers, but to those with decades more knowledge and experience.

    And maybe this is a simple, elementary realisation to have – I mean, the entire education system is built on this old-teaching-young structure – but what I’m trying to say is that for perhaps the first time in my life, I’m starting to throw away the bullshit arrogance that’s become a part of my personality, and I’m instead listening to and taking on board the advice of the wise.

    Lucy Robertson is a freelance writer and sub-editor who I reached out to after perusing Dave Earley’s list of journalists on Twitter.

    Hi Lucy,

    I just came across your site after seeing your comment on the Earley Edition Twitter list. I saw that you’re a sub-editor and contributor to many publications, so I thought I’d ask for some advice.

    I’m Andrew, I’m 21, I live in Brisbane, and I write for a bunch of places including The Music Network, Mess+Noise, Rave Magazine and FourThousand, as well as my blog.

    I conducted an interview in Sydney with one of my favourite writers a fortnight ago – Neil Strauss, six times New York Times bestseller – and I’d really like to get the interview published as a feature article in a publication similar to the Virgin and Qantas in-flight mags.

    Any advice you can spare as to how to pitch this article to editors will be very much appreciated. I have an inkling that’s not so much who you are, but who you know – I started writing for TMN and M+N only after being introduced to the editors of those publications by a mutual friend.

    Thanks Lucy – nice to e-meet you! :)

    Andrew

    A couple of hours later, Lucy floored me with some valuable, honest advice that’s applicable to any freelance writer. With Lucy’s permission, I’ve reproduced her reply in full.

    I hope you find Lucy’s words as entertaining and inspiration as I did . Thanks again, Lucy.

    Hey Andrew,

    Great to hear from you! It’s always wonderful to see new writers coming into the industry with a healthy dose of passion. Thanks for stopping by my site, although I have to say it’s not as functional and relevant as yours – I’ve been meaning to get a blog up and running for a while but it keeps getting punted down my ‘to-do’ list. Sigh.

    Anyway, to your questions… It sounds like you’re already well on the road to finding some good outlets for your work, and it’s great to be concentrating on something you love. I think the best way to carve out a niche for yourself in such a competitive industry is to write about what you love and make yourself indispensable in that area (another thing I haven’t really managed to do – I’ll write anything!).  So snaps to you.  Street press like Rave Mag and niche independent pubs like FourThousand and Mess+Noise are fabulous for getting some quality bylines and to start building a name for yourself in music/arts writing, so hopefully they’re paying you OK and giving you regular stuff.

    You’re also right about it often being who you know instead of what that gets you work … I worked on staff at Text Pacific for VirginBlue’s mag and have continued to get work as a freelancer there because of it. Same with ACP mags (Qantas, Austar, Foxtel, Ralph, etc), where I was a sub for a while and got to know the people who hand out commissions. Buying people a beer after work has never been so important! Try and get to every meet-and-greet opportunity you can, and hand out cards like it’s nobody’s business.

    BUT, that said, I’d like to think getting writing work is also about the simplicity of having a great idea at the right time. Editors are usually an overworked, underpaid bunch of creatives who spend their life trying to come up with new angles on old stories or interesting ways to sell an idea. So, if your email lands in their inbox at the right time, with the right wording and after the right amount of caffeine, you’ve usually got a foot in the door. And speaking of doors, SQUEAKY ones help too… I know a few pretty ordinary writers who keep getting work simply because they pitch madly and constantly to spread their chances.

    So basically, get an email template up and running and get into the habit of sending it out to as many editors as you can get email addresses for. Aim for two new contacts a week or something to build up your contact list. I’d make your pitch short and sweet, and include everything in the body of the email, because editors don’t often have time to open an attachment. Get straight to the point and just introduce yourself in one line, then put your idea forward with a snappy headline (try things that catch their attention like puns on the theme of your story or name of the writer, etc, or a play on words that sticks in the mind without being contrived) and the first paragraph of your proposed story that will hopefully have them wanting to read more. Sometimes I outline what could follow in the rest of the article a few quick dot-points, including any talent you might have already lined up or are able to get hold of… If you don’t hear anything back from them in a week, send it on to somebody else. And if you DO hear back from them saying they’re not interested or whatever, don’t give up – keep sending it around!

    Of course it pays to do your homework and make sure your idea fits with their mag. For instance, at VirginBlue we were constantly getting emails from freelancers pitching ideas about great travel articles on skiing in Japan, which would have been perfect for an airline that actually flew there. Same goes for seasonal stuff – don’t pitch a winter-themed story at the end of winter, because by the time the story goes through three months of so of production, it will be sweltering. Blah blah blah, I’m sure you already know all of this!

    Now for the bad news. Unfortunately it’s very hard to get much published as a freelancer at the moment. Lots of my regular monthly commissions have dried up (including Virgin Blue!) because the first thing most big publishing houses do in a downturn is cut staff writers, reign in their freelance budget and start syndicating material from their international partners or sister media channels (for instance, Text Pacific is owned by Channel Seven, so they’re re-working interviews done for TV or by international titles at Pacific Mags, rather than paying for a whole new story).

    You’ll also see the same thing happening a lot at Fairfax and News Ltd, which are using a lot of AAP-sourced material and have laid off a shitload of journos in preference of regurgitating older material or taking free contributions (from academics, researchers, etc) and even just cutting book sizes to reduce their costs. Personally, I think this sucks and it’s a bad way to run any successful media organisation, because it’s only a matter of time before readers get the shits with being served the same old story for the same price. BUT, it’s something we all have to deal with for a few months and hope it all blows over sooner rather than later. If you have an economics degree, it might be a good time to be an accountant for a while! Ha haaa. Or not.

    Ironically, it’s usually the smaller publishing houses that are used to having their backs up against the wall that keep commissioning good writers during down times, because they live and die on the quality of their rag. Which is where you answer lies… research the THOUSANDS of crazy little magazines floating around out there and pitch to them. You’ll be amazed how many custom magazines, online newsletters, and little niche publications there are out there, and you probably have more chance of winning a pitch because there’s less competition for their bylines. It’s less glamorous, but it pays the bills and builds up some solid contacts that are usually less flighty than the big wigs. At the moment, without much work at all coming in from the likes of Virgin Blue or Qantas, SMH, etc, I’m living off smaller, quirkier commissions from weird places like a business magazine for dentists, an in-store brochure for GO-VITA health stores, some film reviews for Optus magazine and a bit of marketing writing for websites. It’s all super snore-ville stuff, but hopefully I’m just biding my time till the market picks up, the ads start coming back to mags, and the commissions start rolling in again. Fingers crossed.

    So, my advice to you is to keep pitching those great ideas to all the pubs you want to write for. Just don’t lose heart if you don’t get heaps of work straight away, because it’s seriously a bit tough at the moment. It will pick up, and when it does, you’ll be ahead of the queue! But also, keep writing for those independent publications and keep writing about stuff you love. And keep up the blog!!

    Try not to get ripped off with anything less than about 40-50 cents per word, too. Somewhere around .70 per word is more reasonable, but it’s a fine balance between getting published and earning a living at the moment, so find out where that line is for you. Also don’t write for free for these big guys unless it’s an on-spec arrangement and you think you might get paid for later work.

    Geez, I’ve rabbited on. Are you still awake?

    I hope that helps mate. Let me know how you go, and keep up the passion levels. It’s hard to do sometimes, but if you really love words then it’s all worth it in the end! And it can be a great lifestyle – even in tough times like … um, right now.

    Cheers,

    Lucy

    13 Comments / Writing /

  • July 6, 2009

    A Conversation With Stu Watters, Australian Independent Record Labels Association General Manager

    Stu Watters - in the fleshThis is my first interview on behalf of One Movement Word, which is the official blog of the One Movement For Music  (OMFM) Perth festival and conference. In the lead-up to the October 2009 event, I’ll be speaking with a range of OMFM artists, speakers and music industry figures, and publishing the full transcripts on here.

    Stu Watters is General Manager of the Australian Independent Record Labels Association (AIR). After representing AIR for five years, he recently announced his depature from the organisation. I caught up with Stu before he heads to Brisbane to launch a new video production and licensing venture in July 2009. I came across former FasterLouder editor Cec Busby’s 2007 interview while researching, and used one of Stu’s responses during that conversation for my first question.

    Music fan to music fan: how have your listening habits changed since you first saw Dire Straits as a young tacker?

    It’d have been hard for me to avoid Dire Straits at that age, given that there were only a few outlets and media opportunities available to artists. And those guys just had access to all of it, and there was no escaping it.

    These days, it’s a very different ballgame: obviously at that age, I was very open to listening, and becoming a fan of whatever was put in front of me, whereas these days I’ve certainly developed a different palate. But I also explore and discover music in all the ways that are available to me. I have to say that there’s a lot of music that I fall in and out of love with very quickly, because something else comes along, which didn’t happen as much when I was younger.

    I would say that it’s harder to hold on to some of the music in the same way that I’d used to, in that I’d just flog stuff to death. My wife would argue that I still do, but I don’t reckon I do it anywhere near the same extent that I used to, because I’ve just got so many options that I’m exposed to on a regular basis. (The Twitter tool) Blip.FM has ruined my life this week, because all of a sudden I’ve got a whole bunch of new music that I have to listen to!

    It’s so much easier these days to get exposed to a lot more music. It’s very important to define filters that you can trust – people who you can look to, and like what they’re listening to – and that’s why I like software that can ‘plug and stream’. It’s a shame that (online radio streaming app) Pandora isn’t accessible here (in Australia) any more, because that was a really fantastic service. I could punch in something that I really liked, and it would give me stuff that I’d never heard of, but I knew that I’d like it.

    You know better than anyone in the industry that acts can come and go. I find that due to the sheer volume of music available online, it’s difficult for artists to get noticed – to be heard above the crowd, so to speak. If you were starting a band today, how would you go about getting heard?

    Eddy Current Suppression Ring. Dude in the back with the beer is loving it.As a band who wants to get exposure, you’re going to have to focus on the core outlets, which I think are still very much around community and commercial radio. I don’t think that that’s going to change for a long time. There’s certainly a greater opportunity for artists to create videos without focusing on the goal of television exposure, although that may happen naturally. Having a strategy built around covering online bases such as MySpace and YouTube is important, but I think it’s still absolutely critical that you have a very, very strong live performance that creates an amazing audience.

    Bands like Eddy Current Suppression Ring are testament to that idea: it’s a show that you go to, and you take it away with you when you leave. They sell phenomenal amounts of records (at each show), and they’ve done fuck-all in terms of production. I was lucky enough to go to the Melbourne Zoo show that they did recently, where 3,500 people turned up, purely because they wanted to see this band put on a great live show. And I still think that’s absolutely critical, irrespective of any of the changes that’ve occurred to the environment in which we distribute music.

    That live experience, that tangible, tactile thing, is still critical to the whole experience.

    AIR works with a variety of digital music services and distributors. There’s quite a few on the market – iTunes, Tunecore, and CDBaby, for example. Which of these offer among the best return on investment?

    You’ve got to identify what each one is trying to achieve. iTunes and Bigpond are retailers: Tunecore, IODA, The Orchard and so forth are all aggregators and distributors, and then you’ve got the relationship directly with the physical distributors. I think the dynamics have changed dramatically, and it would certainly appear that for a number of services – digital aggregator models which have been running off of percentages – the dynamic has changed in a huge way, in that they played a ‘gatekeeper’ role for a number of years, and I think that’s been broken down a lot.

    The Tunecore model, where they’re working off of the upfront, ‘flat fee’, is changing the dynamic considerably. And when you’ve got owners of content in the market who’ve licensed the content through a third party to a licensee, they’ve gone into those agreements at a time when there wasn’t a solution. It’s now very simple for the owners of the content – the licensors – to go directly to the licensees and offer the product. In the past, a digital delivery platform didn’t exist to enable that relationship; now, it’s very easy.

    In terms of value for money, there’s been a number of middle-men that’ve been cut out of the picture. At the bigger end of town – and by that, I mean even the big indie labels who’re still small players on a larger scale – they’re now able to be in a position where they can supply the content to the consumer directly.

    I don’t believe there’s a particular service that’s the ‘best’ value for money; the best value is the direct relationship between those two business entities. In terms of small, independent artists, services like Tunecore which offer ‘flat fee’-based pricing are probably turning out to be a better deal for a lot of companies that don’t have the leverage that others do.

    You mentioned that middle-men have been cut out of the industry. Do you think that’s for the better?

    Certainly. If you’re an artist and you’re dealing with a record label, there’s a percentage of your overall revenue that you’re losing there. If that record label is dealing with a distributor, then there’s another percentage. If that distributor doesn’t have a relationship with an online retailer, such as iTunes, Bigpond or Amazon MP3, they’ll have to use an aggregator, so there’s another percentage that the artist isn’t seeing. It’s just like continually slicing an ever-diminishing pie. The less steps there are in that equation to reach the consumer, the better off the artist will be financially. The end goal of most artists is to reach as many people as you can with your music; it’s not necessarily about making money, but reaching an audience has always been important.

    The Middle East's debut EP

    Do you believe radio airplay is still important for emerging acts in Australia?

    Absolutely. Let me give you an example – The Middle East. A colleague of mine heard them on Triple R, a community radio station, before they were played anywhere else.

    Through that, we found the band, and Triple J discovered them soon after. Their music’s awesome, and the radio airplay has created a following for them.

    I’m a massive supporter of community radio in this country, and it’s not until you visit other countries that you realise that they don’t have public radio in the same way that we have with Triple J – although, the UK has six BBC stations. We have a really strong radio culture in Australia, and I think it plays an extremely important role. And you can’t deny the impact that commercial radio airplay has on breaking artists. I don’t think it’s the ‘be all and end all’, but certainly, if an artist gets to the level where they can create enough momentum on commercial radio, there are usually excellent dividends to be paid as a result.

    It’s interesting that you mentioned The Middle East, because their release (‘The Recordings Of The Middle East’ EP) is my favourite of 2009. It’s amazing.

    Yeah, it’s killing me. I have a lot of faith in their artistic ability, to become an international act. It’s one of those records that my wife has hidden from me. I’m not allowed to play it any more! That’s a classic example of listeners having the opportunity to discover a band from Townsville, because of the shortened distance between audiences. A band like that 20 years ago, out of Townsville; it’d have taken a hell of a long time before they got to that level of exposure.

    And there’s a danger in that, too: artists who are making really good music, but who are perhaps not quite ready for the impact of their work. And I know that those guys (The Middle East) are getting smashed on every front. Who’s managing them? Who’s doing all the booking? They released the EP through Spunk, but who knows what’ll happen next?

    They’re getting belted as an act, and you wonder whether they’re professionally equipped to deal with it. There’s a real upside to the diminishing barriers to access with this stuff, but there can also be an impact that’s not always positive. I don’t think it’ll be negative in this case, but it’s not always positive in terms of – is the band ready for that level of attention? And if they aren’t what are the consequences of them not capitalising?

    For bands looking for radio airplay, do you think it’s best to start at a community radio level and move up to Triple J, or just shoot for the top?

    94.5FM - srs bsnssIt depends on the content. There’s no ‘one shoe fits all’. Community radio is the most diverse, and offers the most opportunities in terms of exposure. Triple J is more responsive to community radio than ever before – and this is just my view, which Triple J might counter – but I think that the rise of FBI, and online blogging and podcasting communities, have really impacted on what Triple J discovers and starts playing. FBI has made a huge impact in Sydney, given that most of the Triple J team is based in the same city. I’ve seen more of the ‘better’ music generate a profile out of community radio before it’s generating a profile anywhere else.

    So I support the notion that you should service community radio at all costs, and that you should also service, where appropriate, the public radio stations as well, whether it’s Triple J, ABC National, ABC Regional or commercial stations. It just depends on the content, but I think that community radio has the broadest appeal for the majority of Australian content.

    I’ve spoken to artists who feel that being signed to a label is less necessary than ever before, as determined artists can handle their own management, promotion and distribution through the web. What are your thoughts on artists who don’t particularly want to sign to labels?

    That’s fine, if they’re prepared to do all of that. I think that there’s still a place for business relationships to occur between artists and other entities, whether they’re labels, or distributors, or publicists. There certainly needs to be a central point where the act’s affairs are managed, whether that’s done by a manager or in-house. It’s entirely possibly; it’s more possible than it has been before, but I don’t think that’s necessarily an argument for redundancy, to be honest. There are more options available, but there are cases where it just makes sense for people to enter into those relationships.

    I think if it’s all handled in-house, it’s a matter of balancing self-management and writing music. I mean, if The Middle East are getting tied up in all their own affairs and they’re not writing any new music, then it’s to the detriment to the quality of their act.

    Exactly. But having seen them just the other week, and after hearing a whole bunch of new material, it warmed my cockles to know that they were doing something other than just the five tracks on the EP.

    How does AIR help indie artists who aren’t signed to indie labels, and who don’t intend to?

    About 25-30% of our indies are unsigned artists. We have a whole range of opportunities for those guys, particularly if they want to remain unsigned artists. Through the D-Star MPE program, generally you can’t open an account with those guys unless you’re turning over [a significant] amount of money. So there’s opportunities for acts to deliver their product to a whole range of media, including commercial radio, blogs, public and community radio. We also help out by giving AIR members access to our professional network. They can call us up and ask questions directly. I’ve fielded three calls today from artists who have business questions that they need answered.

    We have a bunch of members-only stuff in the back end of the website, which is probably more relevant to self-releasing independent artists, or small-to-medium independent labels. It’s a very open environment in the independent sector, and for an independent artist to be able to get onto the phone to an owner of a record label and get advice from them, that’s certainly an open part of AIR’s network.

    A change of topic. This is something I’ve been thinking about a lot, as I’m in the middle of writing a series of columns for The Music Network on this topic. Why do you think that the industry continues to push artists toward releasing albums?

    Nine Inch Nails frontman Trent ReznorI’m not sure if it’s the industry that’s pushing artists to releasing albums, or whether it’s more the artists holding on to the idea. Certainly, if you take Radiohead as a case in point, the album was very much a part of their philosophy. The ‘In Rainbows‘ release had very little to do with the consumer. I don’t think it’s the labels continuing the album trend, per se; holistically, it’s the industry that’s focussed on albums, including the artists. They generally want to do a body of work. It’s kind of like a visual artist: they don’t just exhibit one piece at a time, they’ll showcase a collection of pieces that they’ve been working on over a period of time. The idea of the album appeals to the artist, and it appeals to the consumer.

    I think for our sector, at an industry level, there’s now very much a single-track culture. It’s been reinvigorated with digital distribution. I don’t necessarily buy the argument that it’s the labels who’re keeping the album alive, I’d say that the artists are equally, if not more, influential in the idea of the album. But I like the idea that artists like Nine Inch Nails [pictured right] and Iron & Wine are repositioning their thinking around their music releases. This idea of “release an album every three years” has largely gone, and I think that acts are paying more attention directly to their fanbase. There’s a real necessity these days to ‘plug in’ to your audience on a regular basis, to keep the fans happy. Offer them something free, and unique.

    I read about AIR’s partnership with JB Seed for the ‘Independent Times‘ panel discussion at the One Movement For Music conference. The plan to sponsor ten previous JB Seed management workshop attendees is interesting. How do you think the role of the artist manager has changed during your time in the industry?

    I think there’s a distinct lack of manager development in Australia. That requires addressing, and I think that The JB Seed program has gone a long way to doing so, particularly for self-managed artists, as John Butler was in the past. He managed himself for a number of years, and worked it out himself; he now has a management partner relationship with (Jarrah Records owner) Phil Stevens, who is his manager, for all intents and purposes. I think there’s now a much greater incidence of artists working with their managers, than artists being led by the managers. I think that’s an important distinction to make, and that’s changed relatively recently.

    Managers also need to be across a lot more aspects of the industry. There are many managers these days who’re also – by virtue of their role – required to manage the recording, and virtually embody the manager of the artists’ record label, in many ways.

    Australian Independent Record Label Association logo

    I just want to clarify that AIR’s partnership with One Movement and The JB Seed. We’re supporting what The JB Seed are doing, but they’re the guys who’re sponsoring those ten managers to come in for the discussion. AIR are actually developing the ‘Independent Times’ program, which is where the managers will plug into. I just wanted to be clear that One Movement and JB Seed are the entities who’re sponsoring that initiative, not AIR! We work very closely with The JB Seed. We’ve worked with every management workshop that they’ve done, in terms of content and delivery. AIR’s relationship with One Movement is purely with delivering the ‘Independent Times’ program for that conference.

    You’ve been involved with a lot of music conferences over your time, with both (Brisbane-based music industry development association) QMusic and AIR. How do you feel that One Movement is shaping up?

    It’s really interesting. They’ve stated a strong focus for the conference and festival; their approach is probably the only music industry conference in Australia that revolves around a festival, in that the One Movement Festival is a two-day event. And I think that carries with it an immense degree of weight, particularly when you look at the partners of (Sunset Events founder, David) Chitty and (concert promoter, Michael) Chugg. Their influence adds a whole different dimension to the conference dynamic. People like the idea of going to Perth for a big conference – because it’s a fucking long way to go, you better have a really good reason to go there!

    For sure. I’m excited about the conference, but I’m more excited about making One Movement Word into a damn good festival blog. Interviews like this will greatly assist toward that end. Thanks for your time, Stu!

    Stu Watters is leaving AIR in July 2009 to pursue a new video production and licensing venture in Brisbane called Morph TV Productions. Catch him on Twitter or via email.

    2 Comments / Conversations /

  • July 1, 2009

    Know, II

    I just re-read this post, ‘Know‘, that I wrote nearly a year ago.

    I don’t know much. But I’m not comfortable with that. Which is why I endeavour to know more every day.

    There’s nothing wrong with not knowing if you’re honest with yourself and others. Not knowing should not cause embarrassment. Not knowing should be reframed as an opportunity to learn a new skill or new information.

    I’m thinking about what’s occurred since that entry; the new information that I’ve taken on board and the progress I’ve made.

    At the time, I was a couple of months into my first office job. I threw myself into that opportunity with fervent passion for several months. I was focussed on the idea of the career, of being the person I believed I should be. And I think about how that belief has changed since that post.

    It’s also interesting to step back and realise how singularly influenced I was by Ryan Holiday. I still treasure his writing, for sure, but now I’ve a wider base of influences with which to assure myself in times of doubt.

    And these times occur, much as it pains me to admit it, both to myself and my audience. I wonder when the seed of that desire to hide perceived weakness was planted.

    Sometimes I feel the weight of so many people – and, as a writer, words – that’ve come before me, and I wonder what I’m doing. I’m occasionally struck by the arrogance attached to the desire to tell stories. And I wonder if that desire is artificial within me, since it tends to come and go.

    What’s changed since ‘Know‘? A new home, many new friends, a mentor, and several interrelated opportunities upon which to build a platform for myself, as a writer. This time last year, I wrote for Rave Magazine and FasterLouder.com.au. Now, scratch FL, and add Mess+Noise, FourThousand, and The Music Network.

    Add to that ongoing work for Nick‘s Native Digital, and attempting to manage the affairs of one of my favourite musical artists. And last week I met and interviewed one of my favourite writers. Yes, the interview will appear on here eventually.

    See, listing my current interests – which largely, happily combine the dual-cliché of business and pleasure – it’s a wonder that I’m ever at a loose end. And in reality, I’m not. So why aren’t I researching the next great Mess+Noise feature? Why aren’t I further forging Native’s name as a media innovation partner? Why aren’t I putting into practice the modern marketing and promotion tactics that I read about every day?

    I wish I had some pithy, smart-ass sentence here to answer my own questions. But the reality is that I’m crippled by inertia far too often for my own good, and it sucks. It sucks the most when I’m feel like I’m letting myself down due to my inactivity.

    This would be the part where I’d publicly state my goals, but right now, I’m struggling to figure out where to begin.

    Thanks for reading. I’m out-of-sorts with this entry, I know. I might owe that to recent dental surgery, but maybe I was just looking for a way to tell you what I’ve been up to since my last entry.

    Hold me accountable, won’t you?

    2 Comments / Writing /