Music industry way off track with song and dance about falling sales
March 29, 2004
Figures show that we're buying albums in record numbers, despite the internet 'freeloaders', writes Steve Cannane.
The Australian record industry has just had its best year ever. But it doesn't want you to know about it. This month ARIA announced its sales figures for last year. In its press release, it talked about Delta, it talked about falling CD singles sales, it talked about the rise in DVD sales, but at no stage did it tell us it was the industry's best year ever. Why bury the good news?
Record industry types aren't usually shy about success. But this time their success is a little embarrassing. For the past few years the industry has argued that file-sharing and CD burning is having a negative impact on sales. But, unfortunately, their own sales figures don't back up their arguments.
ARIA's press release was slugged with a bizarre headline: "Music DVD continues its rise whilst CD singles slide further". A mixed year, you might think. Not so. It took a canny finance reporter, SBS's Peter Martin, to decode the spin. He had access to ARIA sales figures going back to the early 1980s. He worked out what ARIA knew but decided not to share: when sales cracked 50 million albums for the year it was the first time this had happened. And combined sales of all formats for last year climbed to more than 65 million for the first time.
But that's just one year, I hear the record companies say. OK, let's go back to 1998. The year before an 18-year-old college dropout named Shawn Fanning wrote a file-sharing program called Napster, the software that kick-started the downloading boom. In that year Australian record companies sold 39.6 million CD albums. Five years later the figure had gone up to 50.5 million. That makes it hard to argue that downloading and CD copying has been killing sales.
But what about the sales of singles, I hear the record companies cry. Singles sales did fall last year by a significant amount. While album sales increased by 7.85 per cent, singles sales went down by 16.5 per cent. But what would you rather? We know which format makes the most money. ARIA wants to stress the drop in singles sales because it suits its argument.
But it's not telling the whole truth. It neglects to mention the record companies are not releasing as many singles as they used to. Sales of singles do not make much money. Singles are these days pretty much released for promotional purposes - to get radio play and drum up interest in an album. In the US, singles have virtually disappeared from sale.
But what about our research, I hear the record companies scream. ARIA paid a research company to survey music consumers. The survey results suggest there's been a 12 per cent decrease in CD purchases by people who are into file-sharing. The greatest percentage is with the under-17s - people who don't have much money. But the research suggests those with the money, the 45 and overs, are buying more CDs after file-sharing. Now that's a statistic we never hear quoted.
According to Stephen Peach, CEO of ARIA, "The free ride simply can't continue indefinitely at the expense of the owners and creators of music."
If we ignore the rhetoric of record companies caring about artists for a moment, let's think about this. Maybe it's the record industry that's getting a free ride from file-sharing - a massive marketing system that allows music lovers to get exposed to all kinds of music without the record industry having to pay a cent.
I'll tell you what the record companies are paying for now, and it's not scholarships for the struggling artists they say they're trying to protect. It's lawsuits. ARIA is taking on Kazaa and suing university students. American record companies have sued nearly 2000 file-sharers in the past six months. Even the FBI has become involved. It says music piracy has become its third priority behind terrorism and counter-intelligence. A number of US Congress members who rely on the entertainment industry for campaign funds lobbied the FBI to spend more money hunting file-sharers and CD burners. So now CDs in the US carry FBI stickers warning of fines of $250,000 or five years in prison.
There's been no similar push by Australia's Federal Police. But keep your eyes on the figures - next year could be another record year for album sales and for prosecutions.
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(Microsoft Corporation email)
Marketing: Little Miss Marketing On February 24, 1986, a diminutive 17-year-old named Kylie Minogue walked on to the set of Ten Network's soap opera Neighbours. Nobody could have guessed what was being unleashed in Australian and international pop culture - nothing less than a marketing genius. Superlatives and cliches abound in the entertainment industry, but when discussing Minogue's career it is hard to avoid words like meteoric and phenomenal.
Estimating the value of the Kylie Minogue brand is virtually impossible, but it is a brand that Minogue has created out of herself. Her marketing acumen is on a par with her singing and performing talents. In a business as fickle as the music industry, success is never guaranteed, and Minogue has re-invented her image several times in two decades.
Much of the credit for Minogue's rapid rise from obscurity goes to the British music producers, Stock, Aitken and Waterman, who signed Minogue to their PWL label shortly after Locomotion was released.
Her decision in 1992 to split with PWL and Stock, Aitken and Waterman surprised most of the music industry, given the success and fame she had achieved under their guidance, but it was to prove a pivotal moment in her career.
In June 2000, Minogue engineered another transformation of her image and musical style. The good girl/bad girl image has been one of the most paradoxical successes for Minogue. Minogue is skilled at deflecting any questions about her plans for the future. She is writing a new album, but whether this will involve another change of image is under wraps. The success of the Love Kylie range, in Britain particularly, will ensure she maintains the relationship with Holeproof for some time. As for how she spends her money, little is known, other than that she has a flat in London and a house in Melbourne. At 35, she has achieved extraordinary success and will doubtless continue to build on it.
(BRW 04.09.03)
>
> Which one should I choose to put on my phone today?
>
> 1. My wife and I can't come to the phone right now, but if you'll
> leave your name and number, we'll get back to you as soon as we're
> finished.
>
> 2. A is for academics, B is for beer. One of those reasons is why
> we're not here, so leave a message.
>
> 3. Hi. This is John. If you are the phone company, I already sent
> the money. If you are my parents, please send money. If you are my
> financial aid institution, you didn't lend me enough money. If you
> are my friends,you owe me money. If you are a female, don't worry, I
> have plenty of money.
>
> 4. Hi, Now you say something.
>
> 5. Hi, I'm not at home right now, but my answering machine is, so you
> Can talk to it instead. Wait for the beep.
>
> 6. Hello. I'm David's answering machine. What are you?
>
> 7. (From Japanese friend) He-lo! This is Santo. If you leave message,
> I call you soon. If you leave "sexy message," I call you sooner!
>
> 8. Hi! John's answering machine is broken. This is his refrigerator.
> Please speak very slowly, and I'll stick your message to myself with
> one of these magnets.
>
> 9. Hello, You are talking to a machine. I am capable of receiving
> messages.My owners do not need siding, windows, or a hot tub, and
> their carpets are clean. They give charity through their office and
> do not need their pictures taken. If you're still with me, leave your
> name and number and they will get back to you.
>
> 10. This is not an answering machine. This is a telepathic
> thought-recording device. After the tone, think about your name, your
> reason for calling and a number where I can reach you, and I'll think
> about returning your call.
>
> 11. Hi. I am probably home. I'm avoiding someone I don't like. Leave
> me A message, and if I don't call back, it's you.
>
> 12. Hi, this is George. I'm sorry I can't answer the phone right now.
> Leave a message, and then wait by your phone until I call you back.
>
> 13. If you are a burglar, then we're at home cleaning our weapons
> right now and can't answer the phone. Otherwise, we probably aren't
> home and it is safe to leave us a message.
>
> 14. Please leave a message. However, you have the right to remain
> silent. Everything you say will be recorded and will be used by us.
>
> 15. Hello, you've reached Jim and Sonya. We can't pick up the phone
> right now, because we're doing something we really enjoy. Sonya likes
> doing it up and down, and I like doing it left to right, real slow.
> So leave a message, and when we're done brushing our teeth, we'll get
> back to you.
Ok, don't fret that, from the title, something awful has happened to little Caspar. But it seemed an apt way to begin after my scare this week. It began Wednesday morning. We were due for our first ever staff meeting at Artisan. Ant, Andrew and Mark had all left for work, and none of them had let Caspar out of his room. I had opened the door, and noticed that Caspar was on the window ledge, and from the outline behind the curtain, looks like he was playing with something on the window screen. I went and had my shave and shower, and went to my room to get dressed.
At this point, I thought something was wrong. By now, Caspar is usually pouncing all over my bed, frantically attacking the sheets, my socks, me... whatever in sight. I went back to his room and noticed that his outline was the same as it was last time, paw up against the window. As I walked towards him, I realised with horror what was going on - his paw was trapped IN the window.
I opened the window and freed his paw. I grabbed him, hugged him alarmed, and put him on the floor to watch him nearly collapse and limp. I screamed in horror, not sure if I should nurse him or call the vet or what. He limped his way under my bed, letting out a few sorry meows as he went. I raced for the phone, called the vet, and made the earliest appointment possible (8.45). I then called Michael to tell him I would be late... no answer... sms him as well to back it up. I grabbed Caspar's carry box, threw a tshirt in the bottom, and ushered him in.
When we got to the vets, I was stressing. I was worried about Caspar. I was worried about the potential cost. I sat, squating beside the chair I had placed Caspar's box on and talked to him, letting him know it would be all right. When the vet came, we took him into the room and the vet had a look. Checking his paw and range of movement, he summized that Caspar fortunately had no fractures, but a fairly badly bruised paw... but all going well, it should be normal before Friday. He gave him some pain killers all the same, just to help ease the pain for him.
Strangely, as soon as the consultation had finished, Caspar walked straight back into his box, turned around and sat back down as if to say, "Right, i'm ready to head home now!"
Relieved, I took him home and let the poor fellow out.
I sent Andrew an email when I got to work just to let him know what had happened so that he would play a little more lightly with Caspar over the next day or two. His reply made me laugh:
So you have a pill popping pussy?! I half expect to come home and find
Casper on the couch, fag hanging out his mouth with his bathrobe and
slippers on, drink Vodka, popping pills and eating bon bons whilst watching
daytime soaps and talking to the TV like he's actually having a conversation
with the characters! Hehe Oh the pictures in my head! Hehehhe lol
I went home at lunch time to check on my boy. His paw had blown up to nearly twice the size of the other, which had a rather endearing if not saddening effect. And the painkillers seemed to make him strangely affectionate and not so bitey. I decided I would like it if my cat was more doped up more often.
By that night, he was starting to chase things again and walking normally - emergency over for now. But it did give me a taste of what it must be like for a parent who sees their own children hurt for the first time, and that feeling of powerlessness, not being absolutely certain what to do but being driven by this force to help him. I can assure you that the window now stays shut in Caspar's room until I figure out what to do next (although knowing my luck, I fear him ever getting out and straying out front to the busy street!)
I should head to bed now... it is very late and Ant is already asleep. We went for a walk around Saint Kilda today to raise money for the Sacred Heart Mission, we being Michael Broderick, Tara, Ant, Hayley and myself. It was rather fun, and a great way to start a Sunday morning, but I had a bit of a power nap when I got home and now find it a little more difficult to get tired. There seems to be so much going on lately.
Firstly, there is a book project that I am working on. I can't say too much, but it is about an artist who I used to work closely on. The team that i've put together so far are the best that I could hope for, and we're meeting this week to discuss the next step and how we can get it all together, if not a little bit slow.
Secondly, there is a potential opportunity involving an international company that may become a bit of a part time job for me... but more on that as it comes to hand. Let's just say, considering my past history, that if it goes ahead, it will all be rather ironic but justifiable.
Time to try to sleep... but a reminder that 'Mumbo Italiano' is released on DVD in Australia this week and well worth checking out.
As usual, I will finish with some email humour... this one somewhat political, but from my Sydney friend David Dalton...
Subject: Republicans Respect Marriage?
DEFENDERS OF THE SANCTITY OF MARRIAGE
Ronald Reagan - divorced the mother of two of his children to marry Nancy Reagan who bore him a daughter 7 months after the marriage.
Bob Dole - divorced the mother of his child, who had nursed him through the long recovery from his war wounds.
Newt Gingrich - divorced his wife who was dying of cancer.
Dick Armey - House Majority Leader - divorced.
Senator Phil Gramm of Texas - divorced.
Governor John Engler of Michigan - divorced.
Governor Pete Wilson of California - divorced.
George Will - divorced.
Senator Lauch Faircloth - divorced.
Rush Limbaugh - and his current wife, Marta, have six marriages and four divorces between them.
Senator Bob Barr of Georgia - not yet 50 years old, has been married three times. He had the audacity to author and push the "Defense of Marriage Act." The current joke making the rounds on Capitol Hill is "Bob Barr - WHICH marriage are you defending?!?)
Senator Alfonse D'Amato of New York - divorced.
Senator John Warner of Virginia - once married to Liz Taylor.
Governor George Allen of Virginia - divorced.
Representative Helen Chenoweth of Idaho - divorced.
Senator John McCain of Arizona - divorced.
Representative John Kasich of Ohio - divorced.
Representative Susan Molinari of New York (Republican National Convention Keynote Speaker) - divorced.
The bottom line - "Don't let gays destroy marriage - that's the job of the Republicans!"
You have to find the humour in the situation really. There we were, Ant and I, and Lyle and Damien, out last night to celebrate Damien's sister's birthday... at a straight venue... on the night of Mardi Gras. 'Frostbites' was the name of the venue, famous for their wall of brightly coloured alcoholic slushies, attractive barmen, and clientel that were generally atleast ten years younger than me.
I had no strategic pattern in what drinks I choose to consume. I started with a Cosmopolitan because it seemed the most... well... cosmopolitan. But then I realised, as they handed this fluro liquid in a plastic cup to me, that we were one of the few men in the venue actually drinking the cocktails. If you were a 'man' there, beer and spirits seemed to be the dejour. Of course, we did muse that if The Market decided to go down this same path, their beer and spirits sales would plummit as most gay men simply can't refuse anything that they can fashion co-ordinate with.
And then there was the music. It began very urban and commercial. We had lots of Outkast and Black Eyed Peas, complete with girls squeezed into tight tops gettin' jiggy wit it on the podiums downstairs to a pack of boys too afraid to do anything other than grin stupidly, drink beer, and act like tough blokes.
Then the music stopped, and (strangely) they had one of the heats for Mr Bachelor Of The Year... or something along those lines. At this point, one of the contestants friends had strayed in front of us on the balcony and blocked our view. Sadly, the youth of today seem to have lost the concept of pants size, or what belts actually do, and i'm sure I saw more brands of underwear in one evening than necessary. But in this instance, the lad was slightly more fuller figured than most in the venue, and we were not greeted with the sight of studly bachelors but of a plumbers crack so large, we were afraid we were being pulled into it like some form of black hole vortex.
I did catch a glimpse of some of the contestants, and surprise surprise - the two that took their tops off were the two that went through. Hey, who would've thought that skin sells? I did hear that they were both 20 years of age... meaning that they were born in 1984... small things make you feel older. In 1984, I was in my final year of Primary School. I had Frankie telling me to 'Relax'. I had Wham telling me to 'Choose Life' and to wake them up before we went went. We had Cyndi telling us that her breed just wanted to have fun and we had Madonna lying back in the middle of a deserted road playing nypho-vixen, much to our delight. We had INXS discussing a subject called 'Original Sin', and we had Quiet Riot inviting us to feel the noize. But we didn't know we'd be standing in some venue called Frostbites drinking chilled alcoholic radioactive waste and watching some jiggling bum crack yell out praise to his topless friend. Doesn't life work in mysterious ways?
I was asked why I wasn't dancing. Apart from the fact that the music wasn't very 'me', I explained that my dancing had far too much 'hip' in it, and it would give me away as a big willy woofta within seconds.
And then it got worse. I raised an eyebrow when 'We Want Some Pussy' started to be played. It also gave Damien's sister fuel for ammunition as she dancer around us, pointing at us, singing the line with a perplexed look on her face. Then the Choirboys 'Run To Paradise' came on. I bought the 7" when it came out. Some of the people in the room weren't even born when the song was released. And yet they all seemed to strangely know the words. This was followed by The Proclaimers '500 Miles', and Bon Jovi's 'Living On a Prayer'. By this stage, I had decided that I had had enough post life regression for one evening and perhaps it was time to make a move.
Chapel Street wasn't as infested with Grand Prix revellers as what I thought it would be. Sure, it sounds like there are constant flies swarming around my suburb, and if I hear one more feckin' fighter jet fly overhead, I will scream. But in the back of my mind, I just remind myself that it is only for a few more days before the rev heads leave my area alone and life can resume as normal. I went to Priceline yesterday, and had to endure the poor woman on the checkout dealing with Sydney meathead mentality.
"Where you going tonight?" butch overbuilt man #1 asks.
"Moomba.", checkout girl replies.
"What type of club is that?" butch overbuilt man #1 enquires.
"It's not a club. It's a festival in the city."
"Can I hold your hand there?", bom#1 askes, going in for the kill.
"No.", says checkout girl. I admire her brutality.
"Oh, Please." - yep, all very smooth as I try to with hold bursting out in laughter and explaining to them that they might actually try thinking before speaking.
A few minutes later, she finally gets them to move on. Two walk out the front while the third stays to finish the transaction.
"You're from Sydney?", she askes.
"Yeah! How did you know?"
"I can just tell..."
I approach the counter.
"Hi, I'm from Melbourne", I state, handing over my item.
"Thank God!", she says.
My transaction took little more than 30 seconds, much to her, mine, and fellow customers relief.
What can I say? I've never been able to understand the fascination of sitting there and watching cars do laps really fast several times. But hey, each to their own. It's the straightest weekend i've had in a while anyway, and all I can say is 'Praise the Lord for Gay culture...'
Ahhh, it's that time of year again. It's better than Christmas and Easter combined for the majority of gay men and our lesbian sisters (or systers?) It's time for the Sydney Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras! And once again this year, i'm not going.
Now, before I demand my collective 'awww', let's say that this doesn't bother me too much. Although there is always some point during the day on Mardi Gras day where I feel visited (if you will) by the ghosts of Mardi Gras past, and make me wish that I was up there in Sydney on the strip, letting my little heart get dizzy with excitment for the moment I hear that first 'vvrooom' and I see some big, leather clad dyke zoom past me on her bike. I will reframe from any old jokes about everyone liking something big and powerful between their legs.
So, let me get all nostalgic and talk about my first Mardi Gras. (cue the mists of time rolling over our visions about here)
I was young and pretty then (stop laughing). Ok, I was younger then... (satisfied?)
I'm guessing I would've been maybe 20 or so at the time.
I had been living out of home for a couple of years with a rather over the top young woman whom I affectionely knew as 'Audi' (short for Audacity).
For years, being a 'nay sayer' about many things that usually excited young people (I was perhaps determined not to be the norm?), I was finally talked into giving this whole 'Mardi Gras thing' a try. Audi had many friends up in Sydney. She bought a party ticket for me (it was easier then; you could just buy them from Hares & Hyena's. This was before the whole 'becoming a member' la la and prices hyked up). All I needed to do was get there, which I eventually did via bus... and can I just say, "NEVER AGAIN!".
I went to the doctor and told him that I was travelling to Sydney via bus and would like some sleeping pills. Then on the trip, they didn't work... and I just kept taking more and more. I eventually arrived in Sydney, deprived of sleep and totally pilled off my little nogging.
It was one of the first times I had been interstate away from family (although I can't remember if this was before or after my visit to Sydney for the Queer Collaborations conference). We discovered new games in that week prior, such as 'Find a straight person on Oxford St', which back then, prior to public acceptance thanks to films like 'Priscilla', wasn't easy. But then nothing would prepare me for my first party.
I have to be honest; I didn't see the parade that year. In fact, it would be a few Mardi Gras' before I actually ever saw a parade, and then I discovered that Audi was right with the whole 'it looks so much better on television' concept. But the party... gasp... hands clasping side of face in amazement... bewilderment as the virginal me felt my experienced being delightfully frisked... I had never seen so many people in one place, all wanting to party and get on down. I had never seen so many different sheds playing so many different styles of music, from house, to progressive club, to retro, to 'drag favourites', to hardcore trance. I remember vividly, dancing in the middle of the RHI, and turning to Audi and promising never to miss a Mardi Gras again. And for that matter, it would be seven years before I gave it 'a break'.
Why the break? Well, it was losing it a bit. It had lost it's impact on me, and lost some of it's relevance. The rooms all started to sound the same. The crowd all begun to look the same. I was wondering if I had come in on the tail end of it's golden run, the 'rim' of the experience shall we say, and that it was beginning to fall in upon itself with it's commercialism? Well, the collapse of it's management suggested that my thoughts were more than just mere speculation, and although I went to two further after my year off, it had felt like the 'spark' between Mardi Gras and I had seemingly gone.
I'm not sure if this is the second or third that i've missed tonight. But there is a part of me thinking that it might be time to return and see if it is ready to reclaim me.
So until that time in 2005, to all my gorgeous friends in Sydney way, play hard but safe for me, and i'll be sure to have a drink for you all tonight. And remember to yell loudly, "Happy Mardi Gras Darlinks!!!"
1. A rat can last longer without water than a camel.
2. Your stomach has to produce a new layer of mucus every 2 weeks or it will digest itself.
3. The dot over the letter "i" is called a tittle.
4. A raisin dropped in a glass of fresh champagne will bounce up & down continuously from the bottom of the glass to the top.
5. A female ferret will die if it goes into heat and cannot find a mate. (I actually know a few gay boys like this as well actually!)
6. A duck's quack doesn't echo. No one knows why.
7. A 2 X 4 is really 1-1/2" by 3-1/2".
8. During the chariot scene in "Ben Hur," a small red car can be seen in the distance (and Heston's wearing a watch).
9. On average, 12 newborns will be given to the wrong parents daily! (That explains a few mysteries....)
10. Donald Duck comics were banned from Finland because he doesn't wear pants.
11. Because metal was scarce, the Oscars given out during World War II were made of wood.
12. The number of possible ways of playing the first four moves per side in a game of chess is 318,979,564,000.
13. There are no words in the dictionary that rhyme with orange, purple and silver.
14. The name Wendy was made up for the book Peter Pan. There was never a recorded Wendy before.
15. The very first bomb dropped by the Allies on Berlin in World War II killed the only elephant in the Berlin Zoo.
16. If one places a tiny amount of liquor on a scorpion, it will instantly go mad and sting itself to death. (Who was the sadist who discovered this??)
17. Bruce Lee was so fast that they actually had to s-l-o-w film down so you could see his moves. That's the opposite of the norm.
18. The first CD pressed in the US was Bruce Springsteen's "Born in the USA."
19. The original name for butterfly was flutterby.
20. The phrase "rule of thumb" is derived from an old English law which stated that you couldn't beat your wife with anything wider than your thumb.
21. The first product Motorola started to develop was a record player for automobiles. At that time, the most known player on the market was Victrola, so they called themselves Motorola.
22. Roses may be red, but violets are indeed violet.
23. By raising your legs slowly and lying on your back, you cannot sink into quicksand.
24. Celery has negative calories. It takes more calories to eat a piece of celery than the celery has in it to begin with.
25. Charlie Chaplin once won third prize in a Charlie Chaplin look-alike contest.
26. Chewing gum while peeling onions will keep you from crying.
27. Sherlock Holmes NEVER said, "Elementary, my dear Watson."
28. An old law in Bellingham, Washington, made it illegal for a woman to take more than three steps backwards while dancing!
29. The glue on Israeli postage is certified kosher.
30. The Guinness Book of Records holds the record for being the book most often stolen from public libraries.
31. Astronauts are not allowed to eat beans before they go into space because passing wind in a spacesuit damages them.
