Jeeni Blog

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Black equality - in and out of music.

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Black equality - in and out of music.

by Cherie Hu.

I normally open up these articles with a standard “Happy [day of the week]!” greeting, but that feels inappropriate today.

I was going to publish a “normal” newsletter earlier this week featuring my latest music-tech articles, but found it necessary to take a backseat in service of much more important conversations happening around the world. I wanted to share some thoughts on the conversations and realizations I’ve had with people in music this week about the responsibilities that we have, both as individuals and as a collective industry, to do better.

Respect to everyone who took time off on Blackout Tuesday. I don’t intend on publishing my opinion on how the day went, because I don’t see that as my role and frankly have a lot more researching and listening to do to better understand all the issues at hand.

I personally decided to continue working on Tuesday, but with a focus on gathering data and evidence that could point to concrete areas where the music industry could improve with respect to Black equality. I elaborate on them below with some additional context.

The issues that are top of mind for me focus on two actions that all of us can start doing right now in service of Black equality, both in and out of music: Following the money (economics), and tracking what you see (visibility).
 

1. Only 8% of corporate music execs are Black.

Lack of racial diversity in the music industry’s corporate and executive ranks is something that many of us feel intuitively. But we actually know surprisingly little, in terms of being able to point to concrete numbers.

So, on Tuesday, I got to work. I wrote down the names of all the board members and C-Suite executives across the top three record labels (Universal Music Group, Warner Music Group and Sony Music Entertainment) and their biggest imprints, as well as the top two concert promoters (Live Nation and AEG).

There are 61 board members on my list. 53 of them are white, and only five of them — or 8% of the total — are Black:

  • Jon Platt (Chairman/CEO, Sony/ATV Music Publishing)
  • Nadia Rawlinson (Chief Human Resources Officer, Live Nation)
  • Maverick Carter (Board Member, Live Nation)
  • Jeffrey Harleston (General Counsel and EVP of Business & Legal Affairs, Universal Music Group)
  • Kevin McDowell (EVP & Chief Administrative Officer, AEG).

If we expand our scope to include President and Executive Vice President (EVP) roles as well, the percentage does improve slightly. The total number of executives on my expanded list with President/EVP roles increases to 121 people. 92 of them are white, while 22 (around 18% of the total) are Black. All the additional Black execs on this list work at label imprints, specifically RCA Records, Epic Records, Motown Records, Island Records and Atlantic Records.

Contrast this to what we see in the public-facing artist landscape: The USC’s Annenberg Inclusion Initiative found earlier this year that underrepresented races and ethnicities actually over-index on the list of top-charting performers compared to the general U.S. population (56.1% versus 39.6%, respectively).

The relative absence of Black leadership in the upper echelons of an industry like mainstream music that profits off of developing Black culture and talent is clearly a problem. A similar problem pervades the music industry: We can’t just put Black executives into “urban” roles.

As in politics or any other part of business, it’s difficult to effect change around these problems without measurable benchmarks. So consider this a call for music-industry companies to start seriously measuring, and openly sharing, the state of their own racial equity.

Trade body UK Music published a diversity report in 2018 covering both ethnicity and sex, which I remember sparked a lot of helpful conversations on a global level. The RIAA has yet to publish any aggregate diversity statistics about its own constituents in the U.S. This needs to change as soon as possible — which requires collective acknowledgement from major music companies that their internal whiteness is a serious issue that needs to be publicly addressed and resolved.

Music companies should also take a tip from Google’s Diversity Report and measure not just the absolute number of Black employees, but also hiring and attrition rates across demographic groups.
 

2. The flow of money is moral, not just financial.


It’s often said in politics, and must also be said in business: Budgets are moral documents.

You can’t talk about anti-racism and Black inequality in music without talking about how the money flows. But don’t listen to me. Listen to the conversations that Black artists and music-industry professionals are having about what steps need to be taken after Blackout Tuesday — almost all of which involve improving economic equity and opportunity.

Every Black person you meet in the industry, and probably many non-Black people as well, will likely have a story about an emerging Black artist they know who got thrown into disproportionately unfavorable contracts, and who had limited access to resources like lawyers, business managers and general industry education that could help them better evaluate deals.

Going beyond anecdotes and actually gathering evidence of this rampant phenomenon is difficult, because it requires navigating a complicated web of NDAs and political relationships. But it’s also the first place people are turning in their demands for change.

Nothing brings the issue of economic equity to light more than the surreal timing of Warner Music Group’s IPO, which launched the day after Blackout Tuesday.

I’m not calling out Warner Music specifically as the biggest culprit in the industry, nor am I saying that an IPO is inherently racist. I’m thinking about more systemic issues in how this money will flow. All of the major label’s $1.9 billion IPO money will go to Blavatnik, an older white man who donated $1 million to President Trump’s inauguration campaign, and to a handful of individual, mostly white Warner Music executives who already had shares in the company. None of it will go to Warner Music on the organizational level, and so none of it will go to the artists whose back catalogs make the label such an attractive investment to Wall Street in the first place.

Birdman Zoe, who manages the likes of Taz Taylor and Nick Mira, recommended that WMG shares be included in artist deals, not just a cash advance. Many others have recommended this in private conversations with me as well.

In general, Black people's call for a serious, internal reflection on how much revenue from Black artists’ catalogs the labels are keeping for themselves should not be ignored. Also, as Sabri Ben-Achour puts it in a recent episode of Marketplace: “The stock market reflects the corporate economy of the future, not the real economy of today.” Hence why a billion-dollar IPO launching the day after a series of discussions about improving economic equity for Black artists feels so strange. It’s all connected.
 

3. We need to take equity in online events more seriously.

Livestreaming as a format and paradigm is now top-of-mind for the music industry as the live-events sector continues to face an uncertain future. In general, video, not lean-back audio, is now the leading indicator of music culture. So we need to take the equity of what we see in these videos seriously.

One area where I know many of you reading this can have an immediate impact is making virtual festival lineups more diverse.

Several of the highest-profile virtual EDM festival lineups from the past few months — including Room Service Festival, SiriusXM’s Virtual DisDance and the first edition of Digital Mirage — were only 5% to 8% Black, and around 70% to 80% white. (The gender split for these three festivals also skewed 84% to 95% male.)

It hasn’t all been doom and gloom, as there have been many examples of diverse lineups as well — from Bandsintown’s net.werk festival, which was curated by Dani Deahl and featured primarily women and people of color, to Global Citizen’s televised One World: Together At Home event, whose lineup was 35% celebrities of color and roughly split down the middle on gender.

Overall, you would expect virtual festival and showcase lineups to be more equitable than IRL events, given that promoters have access to a much wider pool of talent without the logistical burden of having to fly everyone to the same physical location. But recent events have shown that this increased equity is not and will not be guaranteed, unless everyone involved draws a line, speaks out and pledges to do better.

Artists with enough leverage need to be selective and turn down opportunities on lineups that are not diverse. And of course, promoters need to put in the work to diversify their curation and talent search in the first place.

There also needs to be more collective action and accountability. The PRS Foundation’s Keychange initiative successfully brought together over 250 international music companies — including labels, festivals, conferences, symphony orchestras and more — to pledge towards achieving or maintaining a 50/50 gender balance in their programming, staff and/or artist rosters by 2022. A similar rally needs to happen for racial equality as well, especially for Black people in a time where so many Black artists are shaping popular culture.

I don't have an answer for what the benchmark should be, but the fact that one doesn't exist or is not being measured is in itself an issue. Again, measuring and improving surface-level visibility certainly isn’t the only thing necessary for systemic change. But anything less feels insufficient.

***

Here at Jeeni HQ, we think that Cheri is a brilliant writer and clearly knows her stuff so we will be curating her work for all our members.

#jeeni #unsigned #musicians #performers #cheriehu #water&music #blacklivesmatter

05
Jun

Can Twitch ‘Change the Economics’ for Artists?

Why channel subscriptions and “tipping” on the Amazon-owned platform could open up a significant new revenue stream for artists in the future. ByTim Ingham The explosion of music live-streaming during lockdown means most of the music business is now au fait with Twitch, but just for the newcomers: Twitch is an online platform that allows “creators” to host live video channels on its service. Fans can subscribe to these channels for three distinct price points: $4.99 a month, $9.99 a month, or $24.99 per month. Viewers of a channel can also tip (“Cheer”) creators using the platform’s fake money (Bits) that, obviously, actually costs real money ($1.40 for 100 Bits). Revenue paid for those subscriptions is split 50/50 (minus tax and processing fees) between Twitch and the creator, while the money fans Cheer is split approximately 70/30 in favor of the creator. A less-than-well-known fact: If you’re an Amazon Prime member, you can opt-in to Twitch Prime, which then supplies you with a cost-free subscription to any Twitch channel of your choosing. Or to put it another way: If an artist you love has a channel on Twitch, opting in to Twitch Prime allows you to pay them $2.50 per month, out of your existing Amazon Prime membership. Quarantine has brought more musicians flocking to Twitch than ever before, including the likes of Charlie Puth, Diplo and John Legend — who all appeared on Twitch’s Stream Aid in March to raise money for the COVID-19 Solidarity Response Fund. Twitch avoids the problematic “begging bowl” undertone that can plague artists on other direct subscription services like Patreon by offering fans something in return — an exclusive, interactive live video experience — that Olson believes has an immediate premium value in the mind of the audience. Twitch comments: “Ultimately the future of entertainment is live, interactive and community driven. It’s where anyone can play a role in creating a moment, and where the audience likes to participate and actually engage in the entertainment.” Twitch is particularly enthused about the idea of Gifted Subs, which enable someone to buy another fan of a Creator a subscription to their channel. “If you want to demonstrate your fandom and support an artist, right now there’s only so much you can pay for that Spotify subscription, only so much you can pay for a meet-and-greet, only so much you can pay for merchandise. We take the top off; you could contribute as many gift subscriptions as you want for that artist, you can Cheer as many Bits as you want for that artist.” Facebook Live and YouTube have presented their fair share of popular artist-to-camera performances of late, while Instagram has hosted arguably music’s most memorable recent live-stream series, the Verzuz battles (including RZA vs. DJ Premier, Swizz Beats vs. Timbaland, Babyface vs. Teddy Riley, and Erykah Badu vs. Jill Scott). Facebook last month announced that it will soon introduce the ability for live-streamers to charge fans for access to “events,” but made no mention of matching Twitch’s direct subscription offering. Twitch argues that its monetization options, which also include ad revenue sharing tools, set it apart from rival platforms. Even when physical venues are back to full strength, Twitch believes it will establish itself as a significant way for artists to generate money outside of their recorded music catalog, their publishing catalog and their ticketed live appearances. “We know artists make the vast majority of their take home revenue from live events, and we believe Twitch can be additive to that. Where it gets interesting is when you start to think about things you can do in a digital world that you couldn’t do in the [live] space. You couldn’t allow millions of fans into an intimate setting during a creative session, or [hold] an Ask Me Anything kind of Q&A roundtable. That feeling of VIP access is something we’re seeing a lot of artists leverage.” DJ/producer Illenium and rapper T-Pain,  have both recently invited their Twitch fanbase to contribute to writing sessions, via the service’s in-built chat mechanic. It is certainly early days for Twitch as a significant player in music. According to one recent report, Twitch welcomed 17 million hours of watch-time on “Music & Performing Arts” channels in April, up 385% year-on-year; but that 17 million figure made up just 1% of total viewing hours on Twitch in the month, dwarfed by the hundreds of hours of watch-time on video games-related channels. Another big challenge: Prominent songwriter and music publisher advocates have voiced concern over elements of Twitch’s licensing. David Israelite, CEO of the National Music Publishers Association, the D.C-based body that is currently threatening to sue TikTok for an alleged lack of licensing, says: “While some portions of Twitch’s platform are licensed properly, there are other large segments that contain massive infringement of musical works and it is disappointing Twitch does not do more to license its content properly. All social media sites and digital streaming services need to realize that music has value.” Twitch’s in-built karaoke service for its Creators, Twitch Sings, has been licensed by over 180 music publishers worldwide. “We have been working very directly with rights-holders as music evolves on Twitch.” However many artists Twitch attracts to its platform in future — and however many music licensing deals it signs — the company is clearly making an effort to establish its name in music circles during the current COVID-hit period. Twitch recently built a music directory that Olson says was “a real investment for us as a company”, and also launched a dedicated on-boarding area for artists. Tim Ingham is the founder and publisher of Music Business Worldwide, which has serviced the global industry with news, analysis, and jobs since 2015. He writes a weekly column for Rolling Stone. Here at Jeeni HQ, we think that Tim is a brilliant writer and clearly knows his stuff so we will be curating his work for all our members. #jeeni #unsigned #musicians #performers #timingham #musicbusinessworldwide #twitch

04
Jun

A $0.003 reward?! We’re Twitching at the thought!

Twitch has always been popular amongst the gaming community. It was created initially in 2011 as a platform for gamers to use in order to live stream as well as broadcast live Esports events and competitions and has since retained on average 15million daily users.  With so much more of our time spent online due to the Covid-19 pandemic, Twitch has expanded in regard to what they broadcast and live stream: talk shows are growing in popularity as well as live streamed music to name but a couple.  As the date for the resumption of normality approaches and with it the reopening of concert halls and live shows, one can speculate as to what will happen to those artists that have decided to make use of these live streaming platforms as a source of income.  Twitch users reportedly spend three times as much time on the platform as on Sportify and YouTube so the potential for it to be a very lucrative platform for music makers and artists is what has been looked into by Will Page, an economist who runs Tarzan Economics. He worked alongside various teams in order to understand how live streaming and live music may co-exist in the future. “Live streaming won’t go away when live music returns.” -Will Page In 2002, one of the first music streaming services Rhapsody, offered a $9.99 monthly price which is the same as what we see today for similar music streaming services.  What is provided is also pretty much the same as what was offered in 2002; fans remain largely disconnected from their favourite artists, they are unable to offer direct compensation to creators, and ‘cross-usage’ occurs frequently as a listener is often subscribed to multiple platforms.  “None of the on-demand streaming services that have since sprung up enable immediate engagement, this is a relic of the music industry of old.” -Will Page User engagement is something that both Twitch and Jeeni offer, and not only does it allow the fans to be more involved with the artists they love, but it allows the artists to be fairly compensated, a huge issue which is now being petitioned against by the Broken Record Campaign. See our last blog post for more information and ways that you can support the campaign.  According to Will Page, the typical music streaming model has approached the way in which artist are compensated in one way:  “the platform aggregates all the streaming data and revenues from a specific market and product over a specific time period, divides an artist’s share by that sum, and allocates revenues proportionately. Get 1% of all the streams, and you’ll get 1% of all the money. This has spurred much debate within the industry, as heavy streamers are effectively subsidised by light streamers, or as Quartz controversially put it: Your Spotify and Apple Music subscriptions pay artists you never listen to.” In essence, the modelling simply just isn’t fair, and neither rewards the artists or their fans for supporting them.  The way in which Twitch brings in money, however, varies across three methods similar to Jeeni: Creator Channel Subscriptions, Bits allow users to support creators directly on the service, and advertising.  Will Page made a comparison between creator earnings on Twitch, which average at $0.15 per-hour-per-user, with that of global streaming services at which the rate per-stream is set at roughly $0.003.  By taking the $0.003 per stream and multiplying by 17 (assuming a song lasts 3 minutes this equates to an hour of listening time), then applying an average 20% royalty rate, this results in a creator’s “revenue-per-hour listened” at just $0.01.  My jaw dropped, did yours?  Twitch has proved it can monetise over 10 times better than music streaming, however this only applies to creators’ most loyal fans that tune in on a regular basis.  "If you keep the full $100 of each true fan, then you need only 1,000 of them to earn $100,000 per year." -Kevin Kelly, The Technium, 2008 Do you want to spend hours watching your favourite gamer and at the same time, fairly compensate and reward them for their time and effort? Well of course. What Twitch does for gamers, we want to do for music makers and artists here at Jeeni.  Look out Twitch, we’ll meet you at the finish line. 

10
Jun

The Death of Letitia

Jeeni has returned to Crowdcube to raise more funds for helping new talent. Jeeni founding director Mel Croucher says, “We’re ahead of our original schedule, but there’s still so much more to do. We need to scale our online platform globally now and build our mass artist showcases. Jeeni raised £100K in 6 days and we're working hard to get more investors on board. Then we can hit all our targets, and give our new artists the recognition they deserve.” If you want to see our pitch click HERE. Mel has been writing the best-loved column in top-selling tech magazines for over 30 years. Now he’s agreed to share his work with all our members. He’s a video games pioneer and musician, and to to find out more about Mel check out his Wikipedia page. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mel_Croucher. Here’s one of Mel’s latest! Black lives matter. Unless black lives feature in a videogame, in which case they don't matter a toss. I still remember the feeling of hope and despair when I played Daley Thompson's Decathlon for the first time. That was way back in the Olympic year of 1984, and it was a primitive sports simulation from Ocean software for a little home computer called the 48k Sinclair ZX Spectrum. Daley Thompson was an Olympic gold medal winner from Notting Hill. He had a fine body, and a great moustache, and according to his skin he was the son of his assassinated Nigerian dad. Anyway, I fired up the game and there on my glowing colour monitor was the pixilated figure of Daley, the great black athlete, running along a red cinder track. The thing was, the programmers had made him white. No, I couldn't believe it either. A huge crowd of spectators also appeared in the gameplay, and every one of them was as white as a Ku Klux Klan convention in a chalk pit. It's not as if no black characters ever appeared in videogames. Almost all the assassins, hoodlums, terrorists, monsters and mobsters were black, and their purpose was to be killed off willy nilly. Apart from Michael Jackson. He was the hero in a Sega videogame called Moonwalker and his role was to rescue kidnapped children and take them home. So there was nothing creepy about that, was there. Mind you, wee Michael was mostly as white in the game as he was in real life. For a real black and white issue from the early twenty-first century, I have revisited Ethnic Cleansing, developed by Resistance Records for PC desktop machines. That's the one where the white player gets sent off on a quest to murder blacks. It is equal opportunity racism, because you also score points for killing Latinos and Jews. And speaking of equal opportunities let's hear it for the computer character Letitia who appears in an update of Deus Ex, which is set in a cyberpunk future. Letitia lives on a rubbish dump, she is as horny as she is simple, and she speaks minstrel drivel in the sort of deep-South accent last heard in a Mel Brooks parody. You couldn't make it up. Except that's exactly what they did. And shame on you Mary DeMarle for writing it, Amanda Strawn for acting it, and Square Enix for publishing it. In the USA, over 70% of all African Americans play video games, but they make up less than 3% of game developers, which tells me quite a lot about the state of the play over there. This side of the pond, things are much better, where we have over 10% of people working in game development of a BAME demographic. That's a higher percentage than their number in the national working population, and way higher than in UK publishing, tv and music. This is good news, but it's where the good news ends. Last time I visited a major gaming studio in pre-lockdown, I did see several black faces. One was on security at street level, one was behind the reception desk, two were behind the counter in the canteen, and one was swilling out the bogs. The number of black and minority ethnic decision-makers in the UK computer gaming industry is shockingly low. As a result, race has lagged way behind gender and sexuality when it comes to stereotypes in gaming. Mainstream game designers tend not to question a norm, and they rarely rock the boat by refusing to carry out a questionable storyboard handed down to them by predominantly white hands from above. Most game designers I come across have less creative imagination than Rufus my Irish Setter, not to mention a much poorer sense of loyalty and the inability to lick their own genitalia. Video games have always followed movies in characterisation, and they are painfully stiff with stereotypes. Historically, lazy, myopic creatives have allocated blacks four roles - the violent black, the servile black, the sidekick black and the comedy black. I am removing sports games and music games from my list, since they exhibit no imagination whatsoever, but simply copy real people from the real world, unless you happen to be Daley Thompson or Michael Jackson, of course. The blame for all this lies squarely with the course leaders who purport to teach video game creation in universities and colleges. I have never met a creative course leader who is darker skinned than me, and I'm a sort of mottled puce. They may well instruct their students to bung in a character of the negro persuasion as if to fill some sort of racial minority quota, a bit like when those tv adverts suddenly started to feature blacks doing non-traditional things. Like working in building societies, and driving new cars. The change is coming through the independent video game creators, the so-called home-brew developers, and the change had begun in the UK way before the Black Lives Matter movement gathered such momentum. Creative change always comes from the mavericks and rarely from the corporates. As for the people who play the games, next time you come across a racial stereotype you know what to do. Take a knee. To the groin of the writer, programmer and publisher. The Death of Letitia, from Deus Ex: Human Revolution Click HERE to visit or return to jeeni.com