Mel's bedtime story

Jeeni Blog

Helping the next generation of talent to build a global fanbase

Mel's bedtime story

Once upon a time, I created a platform called jeeni.com which is where independent artists perform their music in front of new fans, and get rewarded for their efforts. On a Saturday night we ran a live global music festival featuring 18 acts from both sides of the Atlantic. The oldest performer was over 70, the youngest was under 10. They were brilliant, each in their own way. We broadcast over social media and websites. There were no adverts, there were no fakes, there was no hype. It didn't cost us a penny to run. Everyone had a ball. We are part of a revolutionary process that is killing a corrupt and rotting music industry which has held both audience and performer to ransom since the 1890s. So if you will indulge me, I'd like to tell you how, and why ...

I'm an old hoarder, I hoard old music recordings, and when I say old I mean really old. Upstairs, in what was once a studio but has turned into an Irish Setter leisure lounge, there are several hundred wax cylinders from the 1890s. Each cylinder is a unique recording from an age before duplication was possible. If Miss Florrie Forde wanted to sell a hundred copies of Hold Your Hand Out You Naughty Boy to her adoring public, then she had to keep lubricated and trill the bloody thing into a brass horn a hundred times and record it onto wax in real time. But to me the beauty of these cylinders is not that each one is a unique recording, but that each one is mercifully short, rotating at 120 revolutions a minute and lasting a meagre two minutes, because that's all a wax cylinder can hold. And so the two minute pop single was born. At the start of the twentieth century discs replaced cylinders, but not a lot changed. I have another room full of shellac discs that spin at 78 revolutions a minute. When it came to pop singles from artists bringing joy to the world throughout the first half of the twentieth century, they had just under three minutes to do it in. And if they were any good, just under three minutes was plenty.

I feel personally to blame for what happened next, because in the hour of my birth in 1948, the microgroove vinyl disc hit the market, spinning at what my Irish chums call dirty tree and a turd revolutions per minute. I have an entire wall of vinyl albums, with their glorious covers and sleeve notes. And yes, they are arranged in alphabetical order by artist and date-order of release. Their storage capacity is approximately twenty-five minutes a side, which is usually twenty-two minutes too long. And on the opposite wall is where all my CDs sulk, each one capable of storing seventy-four minutes of audio, and not one of them played since the turn of this century. Why? Because a hacker called SoloH went and ripped the source code of something called the Fraunhofer MP3 encoder and spread it all over the internet for free. Thanks to SoloH, I can not only digitise my entire collection of recorded music without any restrictions on playing time, I can access the entire library of everything that has ever been recorded, for ever.

My phone weighs exactly the same as my 78rpm copy of Little Richard's single Tutti Frutti, which runs for two minutes 28 seconds of total perfection. My phone holds 21,417 tracks in MP3 format, some of them complete symphonies, which are pretty good, some of them prog-rock drum solos, as used by Viet Cong torturers to break the spirit of the enemy. My desktop hard drive and cloud-accounts contain too many tracks to keep track of. I declare that my motivation for amassing this ludicrous collection of music was that one day it would bring me comfort in my old age, when my body and brain become enfeebled and I feel the need to keep hold of past pleasures while dying. As it turns out, I started playing my collection early, during lockdown, and wished I was dead by the end of day three. The singles were great, but the albums were mostly insufferable. Which is when I realised that the music album is stone dead, and the nightmare of a lifetime of audio padding is finally over. Then the real truth hit me. The recorded music industry is dead too. Thanks to COVID19 there has been an explosion of new creativity. Everyone is now a record producer, anyone can run a broadcast music channel, and that's exactly what everyone and anyone seems to be doing, including me. The spongers and leeches and shysters have been exposed as completely unnecessary, as have most of the agents, publicists and managers. They are no longer able to milk performers in our new world of social distancing, because they have lost their power. It's the remote audience that now has the power, and this audience wants instant gratification, not a load of overhyped, overwrought, overlong, flimflam.

Jeeni.com is my final project in a very long career. I'm giving my artists three minutes per track to nail it, because that's what my old hoard tells me is right. And I hope you agree that in order to shine, three minutes is all that anyone should ever need.

BACK

07
Dec

Amba Tremain - 'Baby You're Gold' Single Review

Amba Tremain’s new single ‘Baby You’re Gold’ is a graceful, yet energetic addition to her family of Soulful songs with heavy R&B and Ska influences. Any Amy Winehouse fan would very much enjoy the Soulful, Ska aura of the song, starting with a dreamy intro featuring chords on a Rhodes type electric piano and a classic Ska guitar part on the offbeat. The harmonizing, tremolo backing vocals paint a beautiful vibration in your head. The chorus features a dramatic build to a loving call and response between Amba and the backing singers. Amba’s voice is a powerful instrument, used here in a tender way through her affectionate lyrics to display a kinder side. The vibrato keys throughout the chorus help synergize the bright, sunny tone, alongside the higher end magical sounding key scales. A breakdown into a relaxing Ska middle 8 consisting of engaging guitar delay and a smooth bassline prepares you for a last booming chorus. The structurally brilliant song finishes with a sharp, exuberant ending. Amba has certainly got the knack for writing engaging and well written music, here she has grown her range with an undeniably catchy and jubilant song. Check Out Amba Tremain's BRAND NEW single 'Baby You're Gold' here: https://jeeni.com/amba-tremain-baby-youre-gold/ How can Jeeni support artists like Amba Tremain? JEENI is a multi-channel platform for original entertainment on demand. We’re a direct service between creatives and the global audience. • We give creatives, independent artists and performers a showcase for their talent and services. And they keep 100% of everything they make. • We empower our audience and reward them every step of the way. • We promise to treat our members ethically, fairly, honestly and with respect. • Access to artist liaison and a supportive marketing team. Check out Amba Tremain's Jeeni page: https://jeeni.com/?s=amba+tremain

06
Jun

Meet The Curators Behind Spotify Playlists - the A and R Dictatorship

Landing on an official curated Spotify playlist is for many artists a holy grail. To provide some insight, we hear from a Spotify editor about how they find the songs which eventually make the cut. Spotify seems to be the opposite of Jeeni, where the process is democratic and those artists that start trending are based on real votes, and whilst technology has moved on they are still in the dark ages where their music is still decided and dictated by A&R agents. And unlike Jeeni.com, with Spotify if they don't like the look of you, then you're not coming in! Guest post from Spotify for Artists by Khalilia Douze A Spotify editor explains how they discover songs to include in their curated lists. Being added to a Spotify playlist remains the dream for most emerging artists, as it exposes their work to some of the most-clicked on playlists in the world. But for many musicians and their teams, the behind-the-scenes process still feels shrouded in mystery. While there’s no formula for scoring a coveted slot on Pollen or RapCaviar, there is rhyme and reason to how the massive team of editors curate tracks. We spoke with one Spotify staffer, who helps oversee R&B playlists such as the genre flagship Are & Be, The Newness, Soul Coffee, Soul Lounge the Black Lives Matter playlist and more, to learn about their process and tips on how musicians can stand out when pitching unreleased music through Spotify for Artists. Spotify for Artists: What strategies do you use to curate playlists? The strategy is based on the playlist itself. Each has its own hypothesis, theme, or audience that we’re thinking about. If it’s one of the genre-specific playlists, like Are & Be, that’s the home for the current, biggest songs in that space. The Newness is new releases or developing artists. Chilled R&B, Soul Coffee, those playlists have a mix of current and some legacy and catalog artists. It really all depends on what the goal of the specific playlist is. What are you listening for when you’re curating? I’m listening for lyrics. I’m listening for melody. A lot depends on the playlist itself, and sometimes that’s the filter that I have. When I’m listening, [I’m like] Oh, this song would do good in this playlist or, This song could fit here for this moment. A lot of it is based on the audience. You have the specific genres, but then there’s a lot of cases where those lines are blurred. The instrumentation and the beat can determine an audience, so [we think about] where we believe the audience is for that particular song. Does song length play a role in how you’re curating? It depends on the playlist. Soul Coffee is more of a relaxing [vibe]. In our minds, that’s one of those where you would just get up in the morning and that’s what you throw on while you’re getting ready, eating breakfast, or reading a book on Sunday. I know that the people will just have it on, so that playlist has a longer time spent listening as opposed to the flagship, Are & Be, and The Newness. For The Newness, when people are listening to that or one where it’s developing artists and new releases, that’s more about discovery. People may not spend a lot of time listening to that playlist—it’s about skimming and seeing what’s out. Can you walk me through how you use the submission tool to discover music? Labels pitch to us every week. We’re able to get their submissions through there, but they also communicate with our Artist Label Partnership team. We’ll talk to them [about] what their plan is for their priorities. There’s a ton of music—it’s countless. That’s pretty much the majority of Mondays and Tuesdays, listening to the pitches that come in for that week. It goes to our whole team. We listen to everything. The rest of the week is updating the playlists and finding the space for them, reviewing what songs are already in the playlist, looking at the performance, and things like that. When it comes to tags in the submission form, what advice do you have? People should be as specific as possible and fill out every single thing to make sure it goes to the right people. Different editors might have different filters to differentiate. I’m listening for if it’s a cool song first and foremost, but past my opinion of it, do I know if there’s a home for it? It’s about being able to find it and [seeing] where it can fit. I’ve seen entries where it would literally just be the artist name and their title—that’s how it gets lost in the abyss. We’re not omnipotent, so we don’t know what we don’t know. Are there any rules about how many times an artist can be playlisted? No. Every curator is different and has [their] own philosophy on what songs are in a playlist. There’s no concrete rule. Click HERE to visit or return to jeeni.com

26
Aug

Bradley Jago - A Brilliant Artist Exploring Queer Identity

When you first listen to Bradley Jago, right away, you are overpowered by the sheer force of his voice. It takes centre in what feels to be an intimate stage, one that exists outside of space and time, where you and only you become privy to not only the beauty of Jago’s soulful voice, but also the profoundness of his lyrics. Rain is a song that is full of feeling, full of something rare in music - accountability. Jago tells me that the song is about change, letting the rain wash over you and forgetting the mistakes that you’ve made. He asks if we can hear the rain pour, and we can. Behind the beat, there is the unmistakable pitter patter of gentle rain sounds. But this question conceals another. When talking to Jago about the intention of the song, he told me: “I was… looking back at everyone I dated and I was like “Oh damn, there’s some people that I’ve actually fucked over a little bit.” … And Rain is an apology to those people, to say I’ve changed now, and even though I have caused you pain, I hope we can move forward after. [It] is a metaphor for the pain I have caused them.” The song itself has smooth jazzy influences. Jago’s clear voice overlaps itself in a layered harmony with a gentle underscored bass, Jago seemingly having a quiet moment of reflection to himself, as he sings to “let it rain”. The song’s intimacies are intentional. According to Jago “It’s kind of like a quiet moment to yourself. You’re at the gig with me in this intimate venue.” Then, the drums kick in. There is a desperation to the song emphasised by the changed tempo - the emotion becomes fevered as he sings “let it rain” - the words repeating, creating a heightened emotional effect - it feels as if he is begging, bargaining, hoping. There is no longer just a sweetness and a softness and a sadness. There is a frenzy, a fury to be understood. And that’s what love, remorse, and pain is like. There’s also important depth to be acknowledged within Jago’s music. Jago himself is a queer artist, who writes from the queer perspective. Why is this important to be acknowledged? Because in a song that is this intimate and honest, you need to understand why it is also brave. Queer identity comes with an enormous amount of negatives - it’s a terrifying thing to out oneself, and make yourself inherently vulnerable to the disdain of others, and also yourself. Jago is changing the game by bringing this honesty to his music, in a world where queer people still find themselves being judged, discriminated against, the context of one love song can change from being a sweet romantic piece to a dramatic profession of bravery. Jago is interested in analysing both sides of the spectrum of queer experience. “I think I’d want to write about the negatives [of queer identity]. Being queer is celebrated a lot (as it bloody well should be). But also there are negatives that people aren’t talking about.” It’s important to note that queer art, music and writing should not be made distinct by its queerness. Of course it adds depth and context to the art itself, but it is important to acknowledge the art as full of feeling, and therefore, universality. As Jago himself points out: “If I can relate to a straight song, a straight person can relate to my queer song.” So what’s in store for Jago for the future? He is doing festivals Victorious, and The People’s Lounge - “Because the music is so honest, I don’t want to do too much to the music. I want it to be really raw and still sound great - but very authentic and sound like it’s coming from my soul.” He also tells me: “I’m writing a track at the moment called ‘New Gay Sadness’ (there’s a little snippet available on Jago’s instagram) - it’s about the gay yuppies in London who are living their life but cannot find love. There’s a lot of pressure… ‘okay, we’re getting to a place of equality, still a long way to go… it’s like ‘oh you should be happy now’ but you have all these other life pressures of why aren’t you in a relationship. Why haven’t you achieved this yet?’” You can catch Bradley at the Victorious festival on the People's Lounge stage at 5:10pm on the 27th of August. Listen to his amazing track RAIN here Here

Jeeni Blog