Jeeni Blog

Helping the next generation of talent to build a global fanbase

The CEO of Spotify is worth 2.5 billion, meanwhile, artists are paid next to nothing.

/ By Freya Devlin
The CEO of Spotify is worth 2.5 billion, meanwhile, artists are paid next to nothing.

Spotify CEO Daniel Ek has come under fire for claiming that musicians should be “recording and releasing music nonstop to make ends meet.” The CEO of Spotify is worth 2.5 billion, meanwhile, artists are paid next to nothing on the streaming giant. Many major artists have criticized the unfair revenue share, infamously Taylor Swift pulled all her music from the platform demanding better support and pay for musicians in 2014. Since more and more are expressing their views on the unfair treatment of artists on major streaming services.  

Pink Floyd said this about Spotify, “those services (Spotify and other streaming services) should fairly pay the artists and creators who make the music at the core of their businesses. For almost all working musicians, it's also a question of economic survival."

Beck said, “What Spotify pays me is not even enough to pay the musicians playing with me or the people working on the discs, It's not working. Something is going to have to give."

Tim Burgess, lead singer of the Charlatans tweeted “So many artists forced to take second jobs, give up flats because they can’t pay their rent all while getting decent numbers of plays on spotify – yet the owner has enough to bid for a premier league team. It just doesn’t seem ethical to me”

Music fans added "That is the state of play in the world, the artist, creators & writers can only go through these global corporates and get paid next to nothing and they get paid the most. It is true with the statement someone said. "Billionaires don't make a billion, they take a billion"

Here at Jeeni we're working hard to do everything opposite to these streaming services, by offering an ethical alternative where artists are supported and treated fairly all while keeping 100% of everything they make on our platform. That's why we have taken to Crowdcube so we can scale up and continue supporting artists and performers. Join our fast-growing family of investors, and grab your rewards as you help us reach our target! Check out our pitch here. https://bit.ly/3BhEeia

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

10
Jun

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.

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