obviously oblivious

Note: this is not intended to be a comprehensive recap of the past decade of the music business, but merely what stuck out in my mind and what I think is important. I'd love to hear what you think was important, so please leave a comment and I'll put together another post recapping my readers' thoughts.

The past decade (+1) has witnessed tremendous amounts of growth and innovation in the music business. Napster, started in 1999, folded in 2001, and after a series of transactions, ultimately ended up in the hands of Best Buy in 2008 for a sum of $121 million. Legality aside, Napster truly revolutionized the way people share, discover and consume music. Apple, seizing the opportunity left in Napster's wake, continued that revolution by releasing iTunes in January 2001, and later the iPod in October 2001. They locked down the market and did something the labels were too scared to do. Consumers were no longer forced to purchase entire albums; they could cherry-pick individual songs for a mere $.99 each. The "album" in its traditional sense is quickly going the way of the dodo; a lost art in an industry that is homogenizing more and more on a daily basis. Apple continued its innovation by releasing iteration after iteration of iPods, adding features, storage and even their own music-focused social network, Ping, last fall. The culmination of Apple's thoughtful innovation exists in the iPod and iPad. Truly revolutionary devices, they will (and already have) transform the way people consume not just music, but all media. Their devices are beautiful, easy to use and regarded as luxuries in today's market. Entry-level iPods can be had for $99, but iPads are available only for the affluent, starting at $499. Their controversial stance on Adobe Flash has sent a serious wakeup call to mobile web and application developers. Who ultimately benefits from this? CONSUMERS. Unlike Adobe's relationship with Flash, Apple truly has nothing to gain by supporting open web standards and technologies. Except, maybe, for standardizing the way mobile applications are written so they run consistently across all their devices.

I realize I'm spending an inordinate amount of time discussing Apple's growth in the past decade years, but it's important to realize the influence they have had on the music industry in particular, either directly or by influencing competitors. iTunes success certainly did not come without competition. Subscription-based services such as Rhapsody and Napster challenged iTunes' model, providing the alternate model of subscription for access to an entire library of music for a fixed monthly cost, but not allowimg ownership. Spotify has furthered this concept and witnessed great success in the UK and across Europe. The US has seen Spotify-like services emerge, such as Rdio and Mog. As supported by a recent Lefsetz letter, consumers don't want to own their music anymore. There really is little value in an MP3, and internet access is so ubiquitous today, streaming services are poised to eat some serious market share. (Spotify's and Rdio's mobile apps allow offline syncing directly to the device, remedying the problem in urban areas of lack of an Internet connection on the subway. Or the problem with AT&T's network.) In 2007, Steve Jobs said that "customers don't seem interested [in music subscription services]", though Apple did acquire cloud-subscription service LaLa in December 2009, which it shuttered in May 2010. (I'm personally a subscriber of Rdio, and I love the fact that I can access hundreds of dollars worth of music each month for a mere $10/month. I can sync it to my iPhone, stream it on my laptop at home or work, but I don't own it. For me, the perceived value in that equation outweighs the fact that I don't own the music. Rdio could fold tomorrow, taking with it some of my music (my iTunes collection is still ~47GB), but I'm paying so little for it today that I'm willing to take that risk.)

So what does this all mean for the musician? Consumers' listening habits have shifted from albums to singles. MP3 ownership has little to no value. Add to that the mediocre audio quality we've been trained to consume based on Apple's original bitrate of 128kbps (which has since increased to 256kbps, thankfully), how can musicians capitalize on their creations? How can they truly connect with consumers and offer something unique? Startups in this space are a dime a dozen. Companies such as Topspin, Bandcamp and damntheradio all provide tools and services to help musicians sell directly to fans. These services hadn't a prayer 10 years ago. Add to that analytics services such as NextBigSound and RockDex, and you have some pretty serious marketing and analytical tools at your disposal. The industry has become so unraveled in the past decade that the goal is no longer to sign with a major label, receive a huge advance and live off royalties and concert ticket/merch sales. Today's musicians want to do something truly innovative and creative. Something that will get people talking. (Ok Go is particularly good at this.) VEVO, a joint partnership between some major labels and Google's YouTube, launched in December 2009, has tried to give major recording artists a legitimate place to showcase their videos. But the truth of the matter is, the more legit something is, the more the music lovers hate it. The gatekeepers of yesterday's business have largely gone away, leaving it a more open playing field for everyone. Distribution is no longer a problem with the ubiquity of the internet. Technology is no longer a problem with Garage Band shipping on every Mac sold and Pro Tools, mics, mixers, etc becoming more affordable. (Let's not even talk about AutoTune.) Talent has been and will continue to be the differentiator. But good marketing can make the most mediocre talent hard to ignore.

In the end, it's all about the music. Music is an art and not a science, which means that many different forms will exist for many different types of people. Like trashy reality TV, pop music will continue to hum along, providing the major labels with an excuse to stay alive, but also providing upstart musicians and companies an opportunity to show them how to innovate in today's marketplace. Today's market is bigger and more diverse than ever before. If you're a musician, just standing on the sidelines, you're missing out on huge opportunities. Get in the game and share your art with us. It may not have the lasting power of the Beatles, Led Zeppelin or Michael Jackson, but your story is unique and deserves to be told. 

About three weeks ago, I began running. I knew I was terribly out of shape, and, despite the August heat in NYC, I decided to start running to get myself back in shape. Maybe I'm the kind of guy that likes to be tortured...I just knew it would be a challenge. As I thought about my life experiences over the preceding months, especially since moving to NYC last November, I realized that I hadn't challenged myself much. And running was such a simple thing, and such an immense challenge to me. I've never been the running type, but, living in New York, I noticed that everyone ran. Well, maybe not everyone but why couldn't I?

So I bought some running shoes, shorts and set out to run along Astoria Park. The first week was brutal, as I knew it would be. But I set a goal for myself: run along a specified route (which I later found out was 2 miles) in 30 minutes, running 1 minute and walking for 4. I ended up running 5 times throughout the route, with each running section lasting between 1-2 minutes. The rest of the time I walked, huffing and puffing. But I made it.

I eventually began to reduce the number of running sections. I've gotten it down to three, which means I'm running more and walking less. My goal is to be able to run the entire two miles before it gets too cold to run this fall. (October/November?) I've got 1-2 months to get there and I think I'll make it.

I've also learned that running is, for me at this stage in my game, as much a mental sport as it is a physical one. I'll often create goals for myself on the fly. "OK, run to the bridge and then you can walk." I don't think I've failed to meet one of these goals yet, but the chorus of doubters in my head can be hard to ignore when I'm only 1/2 way there and feeling exhausted. But I persevere. I accomplish my goal, start walking, and tell myself, "OK, start running again when you reach that trash can up there." And so once I've made that commitment to myself, I don't back down.

If any of my readers are runners, please share some of your experiences as a beginner. (It was probably many years ago for you...) I can feel it getting better and better as time goes on, but I know I'm going to hit a wall eventually and it's going to be difficult to make progress. What do you do to calm the voices in your head? (That sounds more twisted than it actually is.) What do you do physically to build your endurance?

In order to grow as humans, we must put ourselves in vulnerable positions. Positions in which we open ourselves up to ridicule, feedback and rejection. We must take our guard down. Otherwise, nobody will truly learn who we are, and we will make no progress personally or professionally.

Do you fear rejection? I sure do. It's something I struggle with each and every day. It's certainly had an impact on my day to day activities, but it's also made me who I am today.

There are a ton of cliche's around to help people deal with this struggle. "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger." "From pain will come pleasure." "The only way you're gonna learn is to live it." These are just a few that come to mind. But do they really help you get over the hurdle? Do they help soothe the sting when you are rejected or ridiculed? Sometimes yes, but more often than not, no.

The only way one will learn how to persevere through the pain is to, you guessed it, make oneself vulnerable. For me, it's one of my greatest struggles in life. Luckily I've realized this and can now take the necessary steps to deal with it and grow.

I started a blog last summer, writing about the music business and related topics. I wrote a few solid posts and some even got some traction from people I respect. I should have kept the momentum going, kept writing, making contacts. But instead, I disappeared.

I didn't want to open myself back up. Call it insecurity. For some reason, after I took some time off from blogging, I didn't feel as confident as I did before. I didn't want someone to read my blog and say, "Wow. This guy's an idiot. He's so wrong for all these reasons. ..." But you know what? I've learned that the chances of that ever happening are slim to none. And if it did, why not learn from the experience?

So I decided to resurrect my Posterous account (which I had never used anyway) and my goal is to write a few posts each week. I don't care if nobody reads them. I'll get better as time goes on and I'll learn a ton from the experience.

Remember, you miss 100% of the shots you don't take. (Thanks Wayne Gretzky.) You owe it to yourself to take the shot and see where it lands.

I grew up in a middle class neighborhood in the suburbs of Connecticut. Our family owned our own house, a couple cars and all the associated things that come with those possessions. I used to love mowing the lawn with (or for) my dad. Sometimes we'd go up on the roof and clean the leaves out of the gutters. I'd clean my car in the driveway...OUR driveway. Play catch on OUR lawn. Play my drums in MY bedroom.

But then I moved to NYC and realized...in NYC, nothing is yours. Everything is shared.

The parking spaces? That's city property. You have to run out to the store real quick? That prime spot in front of your apartment will be gone within minutes.

Oh yeah, that apartment? You don't own that either. Can't pay your rent for a month? You'll get kicked out in no time. Demand outstrips supply in cities. Do you have any idea how many people want to live in the city? Your landlord could kick you out and have a new tenant paying $100/month more than you by tomorrow morning. Hell, I live in Queens and a few months back when we had to find a new roomate, we had dozens of responses to a craigslist ad overnight.

I'm glad I don't have to climb up on the roof and clean out the gutters. But it would be nice to be able to wash my car in my driveway. Or play catch in my front yard. Or have a washer/dryer in my apartment. Why do these things become luxuries in the city?

Why do we live in cities where we own practically nothing? Why do I park my car on the street, when I'd obviously prefer my own driveway? Why do I pay rent when I'd obviously prefer to own? Why do I share a park with hundreds of strangers when I'd prefer my own private back yard?

These are questions I have yet to answer.

(Photo courtsey of ianqui via flickr.)