Music has always been a part of our lives, but arguably never before has it felt so necessary. What would we have done without music to listen to during the pandemic? How many of us felt like an online concert was a lifeline to the outside world when we couldn’t leave the house?
The global pandemic has brought into sharp focus both the importance of music and art to our emotional and psychological well-being, as well as the perpetual—and in these days, extreme—economic instability that is an unfortunate way of life for many of the people who create it. Though a multitude of world famous artists such David Crosby or Radiohead eventually jumped on the streaming concert bandwagon—some of them, like Lady Gaga, using these events to raise money for or awareness of a good cause—an overwhelming percentage of these online events that took place during the pandemic were performed by independent artists, and were performed for free.
These events were given gladly as a way to stay connected to their fans, to help support their communities, and to cheer people up during a dark time. But for most of the professionals offering these online shows, performing is (or was, until 2020) their primary source of income. Playing for free is not a sustainable business model.
After those infamous first two weeks of quarantine came and went, and it became obvious that this “new normal” was here to stay, some independent artists started trying to figure out how to make a living under the circumstances. They began asking their fans for “suggested donations” during shows streamed on Facebook, Instagram, YouTube, or other platforms. The thinking was that if a fan is willing to pay to see an artist play live—if that concert experience has value to the fan—then the same fan would probably be willing to pay something to see a streaming show, especially in an era when there were no in-person shows to go to.
A Hard Sell
However, it turns out that it’s harder than you’d think to get people to pay for music online, live or otherwise, and even harder to get paid by the platforms that offer streaming services. In the era of Spotify, where you can listen to millions upon millions of songs for free—for which the artist gets paid nothing or next to nothing—and in a country like Spain, which is one of the most notorious music and film piracy capitals in the Western world, it’s difficult to convince consumers that music has value. Social value? Sure. Emotional value? Absolutely. Monetary value? It’s a harder sell.
Telemedicine has become commonplace, as have online therapy, online yoga classes, and online business consulting. People will readily pay €8 for a gin and tonic but asking for €8 to watch an exclusive, online performance is often met with raised eyebrows. We’re used to browsing YouTube for free, right?
If that isn’t bad enough, since most streaming platforms charge a per-show or monthly subscription production fee or keep a percentage of the ticket price for each event hosted on their platforms, the artist doesn’t pocket 100% of the €8 ticket fee anyway.
In addition, many users are not enthusiastic about the extra step of having to register as a user on a paid platform. Offering the show for free on a well-known social media platform that fans already use is more accessible, even though until recently* there was no way to monetize these musical experiences except by asking for voluntary donations.
This is a problem for those of us who want music makers to survive the pandemic. Not just physically, but in terms of being able to afford to continue to create during and after this difficult period. Musicians have rent to pay and kids to feed, just like anyone else. “Tips” sent via PayPal, Bizum, or other online purchase may have helped many make ends meet during the quarantine, but again, this is not a sustainable business model.
A few Barcelona-based business people and organizations decided that enough was enough. Thinking that, in this era of digital everything, there has to be a way to monetize online performances and convert the perceived emotional value of music into actual economic value for its creators. The pandemic spawned a crop of initiatives with the express goal of creating online streaming platforms that provide artists with a decent paycheck in exchange for their work.
Image courtesy of BeyourSound.
The For-Profit Model: BeyourSound
Most of these platforms are nonprofit, which makes the exception—a for-profit model called BeyourSound—an interesting case. Capitalism in the music industry often deservedly gets a bad rap, but sometimes for-profit companies have their advantages. In this case, these include the platform’s use of its profits to actively participate in the promotion of the events via online advertising and sending out press releases. This is not part of the deal on the non-profit platforms, where the logistics and promotion are the sole responsibility of the artist.
BeyourSound is brand new and is a self-described “local startup with international ambitions” started by Bill Krumperman, an American who has been living in Barcelona for the past 15 years. He is a senior level advertising specialist with a knack for building successful businesses based in Spain and had been toying with the idea of an ethical ticketing platform for several years. The pandemic convinced him that now was the time to convert his original idea into a pay-to-view streaming concert service with a proprietary online ticketing mechanism.
Full disclosure: I will be participating in the company’s official launch event on January 17, and I admit that when Krumperman approached me about the possibility of playing a concert on his platform I was skeptical.
“What percentage of revenue from the event goes to the artists involved?” I asked.
“Ninety percent,” was his response.
“Sorry, nineteen?”
“No… ninety. Nine-zero.”
“I believe that this model can be profitable, it’s just that the artist would receive the greater portion of those profits,” explained Krumperman. “I have to make enough to make the business sustainable but the person creating the music is you, the musician. It’s only fair that you would receive the bulk of the income created by your work, even though I’m providing the platform.”
It makes sense, but Krumperman’s perspective is so uncommon that it sounds too good to be true. It’s strange to run across an entrepreneur in the music business largely motivated by a sense of fairness, whose economics don’t trump a sense of justice, and there are just too many legal loopholes that allow distribution or streaming platforms to take advantage of creators.
I told him as much, and he responded by citing examples of similar projects launched in other parts of the world, for example, by Jazz at Lincoln Center.
“It’s all about educating your audience,” Krumperman says. “Once they see the value these artists provide, I think they will be willing to pay for it.” And, even though his business is based in Barcelona, the online format means that his audience can be from anywhere in the world.
BeyourSound’s goal is to eventually enlist sponsors and advertisers to help offset costs and increase revenue, but for now the company is funded by private investment and ticket sales. The official launch event is on Sunday, January 17 at 19:00 CET, an “in-the-round” format concert also featuring urban music diva Marga Mbande, eclectic electropop-meets-jazz artist Inma Gomes, broadcast live from local music space Hangar05.
Non-Profit Model: Caixa de Ressonància (CDR)
According to its website, CDR is “an ethical platform for the exchange of content and musical experiences: songs, concerts, classes, conversations, meetings, workshops, talks and exclusive content. Its aim is to disseminate new creative works, connecting music with the public via the internet in an ethical and sustainable manner.”
The brains behind the CDR (“caja de resonancia” in Spanish, or “soundbox” in English) are members of the Musicians’ Union of Catalunya (SMAC!), and the project was conceived in response to the glut of free online concerts being offered during the quarantine in the first phase of the pandemic.
The creators of CDR were not fans of the idea of giving concerts away for free, online or otherwise. A concert is, after all, a musicians’ way of making a living, and like any other product or service—from hiring a plumber to ordering a pizza—the time invested by the professionals who create music as well as the music itself have value.
Local musician and professor Pablo Schvarzman is one of the organizers of the platform. “Our intention is to reverse the damage that decades of precariousness in the online realm has had on music and musicians, with the aim of changing the prevailing economic model that governs the main social networks and streaming platforms,” he says.
“If we as a society are unable to go work or even leave the house, the internet is our relief, a collective form of escape during this period of isolation. This is not, however, a solution for the daily problems of the artists who are providing the content that is being consumed. They need to buy food, pay the rent, and pay for other basic expenses in order to continue to live. CDR proposes a practical solution to this highly unbalanced situation,” says Schvarzman.
CDR also wants to give the audience a different kind of experience than the kind of mass consumption offered by endless reels of TikTok videos or free Facebook livestreams. Part of CDR’s mission statement is to “make life better for the people on either side of the screen through music, forging bonds of solidarity between artists and fans both in good times and in times of crisis like the one we are living today.”
The idea is that by advocating a direct and “horizontal” relationship between artists and fans, both parties will get more out of the experience, and the value for both will be greater. For that reason, the creators of the platform call CDR a “mutual support musical network,” not just a streaming events service.
In addition, every activity offered through CDR not only encourages this horizontal relationship, but it also needs the community’s support in order to occur. Except for certain one-on-one experiences, which only involve one artist and one end user—for example, a private music lesson—the workshop, concert, or other activity can only be carried out if the event reaches a minimum number of ticket sales. The coming together of a group of people is an inherent part of the business model.
CDR was able to achieve a non-profit structure thanks to the crowdfunding platform Goteo.org. Normally, Goteo charges a 5% commission for the management of its crowdfunding campaigns, but CDR has been designated part of its #CoronaZero initiative, which is a Goteo Foundation category designed to support those crowdfunding campaigns most in need during the pandemic, and on which it collects 0% commission.
The platform is fully funded by donations, not by grants or public money, and all the benefits generated at each event go directly to the artist. As an added incentive for the paying public, the tickets may be categorized as donations for tax purposes—funds that the musicians’ union is raising on behalf of the artists participating in the platform—which means that a €10 ticket for a streaming concert would only really cost 2.50€, an example of the aforementioned model of mutual support.
Unlike in a for-profit model, the artist has sole responsibility to promote the event, but the structure offered by CDR was not designed to actively promote. It does however provide the infrastructure allowing artists to dignify their work by getting paid for it, without taking anything in return.
The Local Initiative That Started Even Before COVID-19
TickEtic is a digital ticketing platform driven by the non-profit organization ticketCoop SCCL. The platform has been around since just before the pandemic, in December 2019, but the project was launched the year before—yes, in 2018 B.C.: “Before Corona.”
The idea of an ethical ticketing platform was an initiative of the Esperanzah Civic Foundation, a non-profit organization created by the Esperanzah Festival with the goal of “strengthening and consolidating the sector of the social economy, solidarity and sustainable development,” according to the mission statement on its website. Since its inception, the ticketing platform has partnered with both well-known national bands like Txarango, as well as socially conscious and activist organizations such as Open Arms and Stop Mare Mortum, both of which work to help reduce migrant deaths at sea.
In April 2020, the Foundation launched the #StreamingsSolidaris (“streaming solidarity”) online concerts, with the goal of raising funds to go towards research to combat the coronavirus, and to “dignify the work of the cultural sector, which is at a very difficult time as a result of current mobility restrictions.”
TickEtic is based in El Prat and continues to operate thanks to donations in tandem with public money awarded by the government. The partial reliance on grant money changes the business model from, for example, the CDR system in the sense that the CDR can set its own functional parameters, whereas nonprofit entities that are awarded government funding have to abide by certain restrictions in order to operate.
OK, But Why Not Just Watch on Facebook and Tip?
What’s the difference between these kinds of platforms and an artist broadcasting live on YouTube, Facebook or Instagram, and just asking for tips or voluntary contributions?
Until recently, on any of the big social media platforms the event was free by default. The only way to see a profit was to ask for suggested donations, whereas in these proprietary platforms started by local entities, if you don’t pay, you don’t watch—just like in a “normal” concert. This assures that the musician will get paid for the performance, and also assigns a value to the service provided.
A nutritionist or a psychologist wouldn’t ask for tips via PayPal instead of charging a fee just because the session was online, rather than in person. The idea is pretty ridiculous, right? So why doesn’t the same apply to a professional musician performing?
You might be the kind of ethical music fan who really would pay to watch a streaming event every single time, even if it’s optional, but statistically that’s not most people. It’s unfortunate, but as much as I hate to say it, it also makes objective sense.
Sustainability and the Public
If you walk into a cafe and ask for a cup of coffee, the waiter doesn’t ask, “do you want to pay for it, or do you want it for free?”
If he were to add, “but if you pay for it, you’d be helping the cafe survive so you can keep coming here to enjoy your coffee,” maybe you’d be more likely to pay for it than you were the moment before—but why should it even be necessary to explain why you have to pay for your coffee? You want coffee, you value coffee, the cafe provides the coffee, so you pay for it.
The internet has basically made “coffee” free. (Do you see where I’m going with this?)
Some online event platforms have received pushback for charging for their services—after all, there is a ton of free musical content online already—but especially at a moment when most in-person events are cancelled or have reduced capacity, these ethical online solutions are necessary if we want culture to survive.
The challenge that faces all of these platforms is a combination of an excess of supply (all that free content I mentioned), distrust of the unknown (“but how do I know where my money really goes?”) and general laziness (“I have to register and sign up for what now? What a pain, forget it.”). People don’t want to think more than they have to, pay more than they have to, or make more of an effort than absolutely necessary—especially when it’s something they are consuming for pleasure.
I get it. The cynical side of me thinks that music piracy, Spotify, and the rest of the “internet colossi” as Pablo Schvarzman calls them, have collectively ruined the world, and that people will never pay for something they can get for free elsewhere, regardless of the long-term consequences.
But just like we’ve trained ourselves to make the effort to throw away glass, plastic and paper in separate bins—even though we don’t receive any gratification except knowing that we are helping to make the planet a little healthier—we have to train ourselves to make the effort to choose a sustainable consumption model when it comes to online concerts and music in general if we want the music ecosystem to survive.
These locally-based initiatives and others like them around the world are a hopeful first step.
*Facebook has recently implemented a paid, “ticketed” model for online events via its platform, but after fees and taxes, the percentage retained by the artist is significantly less than the price paid by the consumer, and an artist isn’t paid until their earnings reach a certain minimum threshold. Instagram and YouTube don’t currently offer a “ticketed” streaming option.