What's Mine is Yours and Yours...
Having been a fan and follower of Metallica since high school and also being interested in seeing the dynamics that surround the artistic process, I've been curious to see the highly praised documentary Some Kind of Monster that chronicles the making of their most recent album and, more interestingly, their need for a group therapist. The film itself became secondary to the subject brought up during its course, the war waged by Metallica, in particular drummer Lars Ulrich, against Napster and all those who downloaded their songs. The friend I was watching the film with made it adamantly clear that he thought that the entire process of downloading songs from the internet is a loathsome activity that serves as nothing more than a way to commit robbery against the artists whose work is being distributed around the world for free. I, on the other hand, proceeded to respond with the blanket statement that I just don't care. Upon further reflection, I realize how bad this sounds, and I don't know that I successfully defended my lackadaisical response. I do know that I haven't wavered on that notion.

Honestly, I just can get myself worked up over the fact that artists are "losing" revenues on works that are being distributed by "illegal" means, especially when these artists are big name acts signed to large record labels that have the gall and the audacity to not only charge upwards of twenty dollars for new albums but also claim that they are losing profits due to the downloading craze. The crux of my friend's argument wasn't focused on the big name acts, but on those bands that are struggling to be heard and signed to a record label. Granted, I can see how this can be a problem, but, as I've mentioned before with other forms of artistic expression, I believe that there's always a reason why individuals or groups have a hard time selling their artistic ventures to large conglomerates. The reason being that it's not very good. I don't consider most of the works being published in the book world to be very good, especially the best seller list which is littered with unreadable abominations of the language and insultingly bad gimmicks that pawn themselves off as being postmodern and clever. In my rationale, if the stuff that's getting published is bad, with a few exceptions, then what are the chances that the stuff that isn't getting published is any better? We'll never know, and I know that's the point, but I just don't think we're, or more importantly I, am missing out on much.

As for the lost revenues, the last I knew there was still a highly successful market for the purchase of new products. CD sales haven't been that drastically affected. The reason sales are down, I would argue, is due to the fact that there just aren't that many good artists releasing good music any more. Moby, for example, appears to be the latest artist to have produced one tremendous album followed by a string of losers. His latest release seems to be, if one can glean anything from reviews, a rehash of his previous material and a desperate attempt to remain a significant figure on the pop scene. To address the downloading of materials by unsigned artists, I can't for the life of me imagine that there's much reason to fear that this is driving unsigned acts to switch occupations. Two people downloading tracks in Idaho from a local artist based in Pittsburgh shouldn't make or break any band. What this would have to do with them not being signed at all I haven't the slightest idea.

Friday's Wall Street Journal featured an editorial entitled "Can Justice Scalia Solve the Riddles of the Internet" by Daniel Henninger. Writing on the case before the Supreme Court of Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer v. Grokster, Henninger proposes three conundrums that are at the heart of this debate. The first is whether or not the internet has sapped the creative will of artists who apparently are just in it for the money and derive no other form of satisfaction out of their artistic ventures. This is such an absurd notion that it's beyond comment. The second proposes that the internet has effectively eliminated the idea that works are produced for profit and created a complacent populace that sees nothing wrong with the idea that everything should be available for free. This has some merit. It's akin to the notion that everything must be on the internet. Libraries face this everyday, and it's not a phenomenon that's going to be easy to break. Young people raised on the internet see it as the be all to end all resource for everything they need. Books have become secondary if not ignored altogether. That's a problem. The third posits the notion that individuals who commit this crime of downloading see nothing wrong in their actions even when they knowingly will not commit any other types of crimes willingly. This leads into Henninger's main premise that unless we acquire a "moral or at least philosophical commitment to the legitimacy of profit...there's no hope." Henninger paints a picture of starving artists living on Red Bull and Steve Jobs swimming in the millions yielded by his iPods. The idea is about as tear jerking as a mud puddle.

Finally, the idea that artists create art because it's their job came up during the debate. I don't see it that way. If you choose to live your life as a struggling artist, that's your decision. I have neither sympathy nor condemnation for those who do so, but I also feel little towards the notion of the "starving artist" wallowing in obscurity because someone has robbed him or her of their outlet or just hasn't discovered them yet. I love art and I'll support artists that I enjoy, but I won't be forced into some sort of sympathetic symbiotic relationship that condemns either the establishment for not rooting out these special cases or the public for feeding off of their wares without proper compensation. There are more pressing matters in life, and I just don't care enough about this fight to bother.