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.

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06
Jun

Never too late for Jeeni!

by Mel Croucher I was a young man living in Stockholm. It was the summer of 1969 and I was flat broke. I had the clothes I stood up in, a diploma in architecture and a kazoo. I was too shy to be a busker, so I invented pay-on-demand live-streamed entertainment. I became a human jukebox. I got me an abandoned cardboard box just about big enough to hide inside, and I cut a horizontal slot near the top for my media input/output. Below the slot I punched eight holes to act as the graphic user interface. The reason there were eight holes was because I only knew eight songs, and I scrawled the song title alongside each hole. The idea was for passers-by to provide me with digital input commands by sticking their finger through the hole of their choice, and I would give them a short rendition of the selected song on my kazoo. As a token of their appreciation they would reward me with loose change dropped through a small vertical slot labelled Thank You in English and Swedish. It was very hot squatting inside that box. So here we are, more than half a century later, and the music industry should be in crisis. As a result of the pandemic, artists and musicians have seen their venues close down, festivals cancelled, tours abandoned, and wary audiences slink off to go online. The new normal for live performers should be that they are well and truly buggered. But I am delighted to say the very opposite is true. The new normal has revealed that the traditional models for the entertainment industry were a hoax. All those record labels, agents, managers, ticketers and merchandisers were a bunch of parasites. Half a century later, the new generation doesn't even need a kazoo and cardboard box to squat in for a live performance. They've got smartphones. And they don't need to rely on passers-by to busk at. They've got a global audience, thanks to utilities like Soundcloud, Tidal and Jeeni. Even on Facebook we have the facility for interminable live broadcasts of self-indulgent shite from the box-room. And I'm not just talking about singers and musicians. The same applies to actors, dancers, poets, voiceovers and kazoo virtuosos. There are more independent artists than ever before who have been able to break into the mainstream without any support from a lousy label, a poncy publisher, a suffocating sponsor, mingy manager or arrogant agent. This is an entertainment revolution, where digital distribution, streaming platforms, social media and online marketing tools have changed the way artists perform their work and reach out to fans. By cutting out all the spongers, an independent artist can suddenly enjoy a number of important advantages. To me, the most important is that they now have 100% complete control over the direction of their music, spoken word and creative work. They also have full control over distribution, marketing, artwork, merchandising, deadlines, gigs, ticketing, prices, schedules - in fact all of those affirmative decisions about their creative vision. But it's not just about control. The new normal means that independent artists can keep 100% of all the profits generated from sales, streams, licencing deals, merchandise, and small change dropped through cardboard slots. The reason they can do this is because without the parasites they own all their own stuff. Independent artists own the master rights to their creative work, which means they also have the freedom to negotiate licensing, streaming and publishing deals, and they don’t have to worry about shyster contracts, expensive lawyers, and signing over their rights. Of course the parasites are not going to give up without a fight. Book agents, publishers, distributors and publicists are still clinging on, years after it became obvious that nobody really needs them now that anyone can self-publish in the digital age. In the music and entertainment industry the leeches will still argue that they are vital, even though they already know they are dead. They will keep trying to treat artists like idiots and tell them they don't have the money for mastering, or production or touring or merchandise. Which is a lie, because if artists don't have to pay the leeches then they will save the money. Artists will also be told that they have a limited network of fans and contacts, whereas organisations and labels have access to big fat fanbases and red hot connections with professionals, promoters, booking agents and media. This is an even bigger lie, demonstrated by the fact that even a no-hoper musician like me has a Facebook network big enough to fill The Royal Albert Hall, including the bogs, with or without social distancing. The biggest problem I can foresee in this brave new world of independent entertainment is lack of discipline. Put simply, if creatives were once prepared to rely on a bunch of parasites and leeches, they must now learn to rely on themselves, and that involves actually getting down to some hard work and doing stuff, irrespective of whether or not they have oodles of native talent. Desperation and hunger is an excellent motivator, so I invite the independent artists and performers of the new normal to get hold of their own electronic cardboard box and give it a go. And above all, don't forget to have fun while you're about it. Mel Croucher is the founder of the UK videogames industry, and writer of the most widely-read, longest-running column in computer journalism. He is the founder director of Jeeni and owns a black T-shirt. Click HERE to visit or return to jeeni.com

04
Feb

Zeeteah Massiah - ‘Wat A Ting’, Single Review.

Zeeteah Massiah’s 'Wat A Ting’ is a brilliant, tongue-in-cheek poke at misinformation and its relentless spreading, all the while being a dancehall banger in its own right. As an ambassador of Jeeni, Zeeteah Massiah is certainly something of a Jeeni royal. She has been a big part of the origins and early stages of Jeeni and her support is invaluable. Zeeteah Massiah is a Number One Billboard Dance Chart star who specialises in Reggae, Jazz and house music and has worked with the likes of Tom Jones, Sting and Robbie Williams. Now, she makes incredible music with her husband, Paul. The clarity of the production in ‘Wat A Ting’ is perfect. The off-beat pulse is so neat and perfectly edited and that’s with so much else going on; broken glass, rapid reggae drumrolls and several layers of backing vocals all fly over each other but this track never sounds messy or unintentional. The attention to detail in the mix for this single is exhaustive and thorough. That approach to production results in all sonic layers staying in their corner, but interacting with each other in total coherence and clarity. Everything in ‘Wat A Ting’ is tight, staccato and playful in its nature. It sounds like Zeeteah and her husband, Paul had so much fun with every layer of this track. As a counter-point to the short, abrupt timbre of the rest of this song, the pre-chorus is cleverly, much smoother with the addition of sweeping backing vocals and strummed guitar parts. This soft, calmer section is a great spot for the deceptively, reassuring lyrics “No need to fear now, what’s going on here now.” before the accepting chorus, “We've all gone crazy.” Zeeteah’s voice is pitch perfect and so adaptable; her singing is soft and caring for the pre-choruses but aptly manic and wild for the ‘Wat a ting, wat a ting!” choruses. The care and precision she carries in her voice could only be that of a seasoned professional vocalist. Although the track is undeniably fun, it addresses an incredibly important issue, “They told me there was COVID in the 5G, they told me the earth was flat.” Underneath the lively, mischievous tone of the track, 'Wat A Ting’ is an exasperated resignation to the persistent spread and sharing of false information as a result of fear and ignorance, “It’s all very clear now, we’ve all gone crazy.” Check out this fun and important track here: https://jeeni.com/wat-a-ting-zeeteah-massiah/ And check out Zeeteah’s Jeeni showcase here: https://jeeni.com/showcase/zeeteah-massiah/ Album review How can Jeeni support artists like Zeeteah Massiah? 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.

10
Jun

Let’s celebrate the “F” word – unlocking the power of our feminity. By Sammie Venn

By Sammie Venn Jeeni's Official Writer, Columnist and Blogger. Here at Jeeni.com we celebrate and support all musicians and performers, and poetry has its own dedicated channel for artists and performers to showcase their work and earn 100% of their sales, ticketing, merchandise and donations. Last week Jeeni returned to Crowdcube to raise more funds for helping new talent. We have been very encouraged with the positive response as we reached our target in just 6 days and now overfunding If you want to see our pitch click HERE. Today we showcase Sammie Venn as a very talented and creative writer. “For I conclude that the enemy is not lipstick, but guilt itself; we deserve lipstick, if we want it, AND free speech; we deserve to be sexual AND serious—or whatever we please. We are entitled to wear cowboy boots to our own revolution.” After reading Dr Naomi Wolfs powerful words I dug my cowboy boots out of the closet, turned the radio up and attempted to work through my own solitary revolution. I too wanted lipstick, love and liberty. I wanted to dance to my own beat and feel ecstatic about it. I have been in the retail industry for over 25 years now; understanding what women want and correlating that to how they feel, is a task both meaningful and joyful to me. It is something I continue to learn and explore daily as finding our inimitable style is part of the process of discovering our femininity; for me it is about how we show up in the world. I have never been an avid follower of fast fashion, the clothes we wear and how we choose to adorn ourselves is part of being authentically who we are. At heart I am a boho gypsy who longs to live her life in maxi dresses with no shoes, in the sunshine. This is of course not always practical but I like to kiss the earth with my toes as often as I can and working from home, especially at the moment provides me with that luxury. Celebrating our femininity should be a practice that connects both the pleasure and magic of being a woman. It’s easy to berate ourselves, finding fault in the smallest of details but it is those elements that we should embrace and nurture more than anything; it is after all what makes us unique in this world. I had a hip replacement a couple of years ago at the age of 45. As painful and heart breaking as it was, I learnt to love the scar I see every day, as it was that very operation which allowed me to walk again. Falling in love with your body, scars and all, is about accepting everything that is wild, vulnerable and rampant about it. Listening to our intuition and feeling the emotions that accompany it, is a practice worthy of time and dedication. I have always appreciated music, the soundtrack that accompanies my life is as varied and eclectic as the decades I have lived in. Maya Angelou wrote that “ a bird does not sing because it has the answers, it sings because it has a song”. So when we write, listen or perform, we give something of our heart to a receiving audience. I have been working on a series of practices that will hopefully help to reclaim our pleasure both internally and externally. Here are a few rituals that harness the wisdom that we all carry within ourselves. Something for the mind, body and spirit. Reclaiming Pleasure. When we feel pleasure, we radiate it. Our skin glows, our eyes smile and our bodies feel more fluid and engaged with life in the moment. Finding pleasure in our daily activities is all part of a healthy sacred self-care regime. Notice what brings you joy, is it walking in nature? Dancing slowly to a rhythmic beat? Eating delicious food? Meditating? Soaking in a candlelit bath? Whatever it is, write it down and designate some time to your desires. Fulfilling our deepest needs brings us joy and harmony. Date Yourself. Have a date with yourself, be your own lover. Imagine your ideal soiree then recreate that for yourself, it can be wildly extravagant or very simple. A few years ago I took myself out for dinner, I dressed as if I were going out for the perfect first date. It was an odd experience as I had never done anything like this before. I was as nervous about being alone in a restaurant as I would have been meeting a prospective partner. But after my first glass of prosecco, I eased into the evening. I pulled out my notebook and listed everything I wanted to attract into my life; health, the feeling of safety, oneness with myself and those I loved, a man who respected me on all levels and a career I could be proud of. I ate my dinner mindfully, observed those around me and then smiled to myself, I remember feeling happy for the first time in years. I still have the journal I wrote in that night, I see it as part of my self-healing revolution. When you commit to choosing you, that loving vibration will radiate into all areas of your life. Click HERE to visit or return to jeeni.com

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