APRA taps widening market

Diversity raises take for local composers

By David James

Debate about music copyright and royalty payments typically veers between extremes. The antagonists have a habit of exaggerating their arguments, whether it be the need to protect downtrodden, vulnerable composers and musicians from wholesae theft, or the necessity to wrest customers from the suppression of their basic liberties by brutal regulators and corporations.

There certainly are absurdities. The US-based MCANet news bulletin recently reported that ASCAP, the US copyright agency is causing havoc at girl guide camps by asking them to pay licence fees for copyright songs they sing around the campfire. One can only imagine the confusion, especially working out who "anonymous" is and whether the copyright is still extant.

The recent adverse finding in the US Supreme Court against file sharers Grokster and Morpheus, was celebrated by file sharer Kazaa, which is subsequently in Australian courts accused of breaking copyright. Kazaa issued a press release that bore a resemblance to the Baghdad minister for defence who trumpeted the victory of Iraqi forces as the US tanks rolled in without resistance. "We view today's decision by the United States Supreme Court as a clear opportunity for the legal system to vindicate Sharman Networks," the release said, drawing a conclusion that could only be described as creative.

Business Week took a different slant, criticising the decision as a blow against innovation, and quipping that in future, there would be a limit on the number of times people would be allowed to remember songs in their head.

But extremes do not really characterise the world of copyright collection. Incremental growth is more the focus. Unlike the recording industry, which has suffered in the last five years from a sharp fall in revenues and profitability because of emerging technologies, the copyright industry has tended to profit from the new means of distribution. Brett Cottle, chief executive of the Australian Performing Rights Association (APRA) says the copyright business is becoming more diverse, and les reliant on record sales. APRA, he says, has been increasing its collections by 8-10% compound for the last five years; last year the rise was 10-11%.

"Some of the industry that collected royalties have done very well. Radio is doing very well. We collect from the advertising revenues. Publishers themselves are finding new markets, such as the issuing of synchronisation licences (fees for the use of music in films or television). It existed before, but they are able to do better."
Cottle says royalties for the ring tone market is now $4-5 million annually, a 'significant market'. "We are doing generally better than the recording industry, which is still largely dependent on record sales."

Cottle says he has a sanguine view of copyright collection. "File sharing will get harder, for businesses and for individuals. The challenge is to come up with a solution that is robust and equitable for copying. The desired balance is the same as it has always been: you need technical innovation but the market has to be lawful. The Kazaa case shows that it can be litigated, but to get it to work you have to have the ISP take responsibility.

"There is a whole school of people who are trying to persuade us that innovation has suffered because of the copyright industry, but I just think that is a load of nonsense. If anything, the imbalance has gone the other way, and it has to work both ways."

Cottle says local composers earn between 25-30% of the royalty pool, which he says is a significant rise form 20 years ago. APRA generated $123 million last year. He acknowledges that the rewards only go to relatively few recipients, but considers it an inevitable feature of the market. "It is the nature of the industry that it has a pyramid structure. There will always will be a large number of people struggling at the bottom, and a small number doing well at the top. But having said that, I am astounded by the number of people who play well. The era of disco is ending, and live music is coming back, but it is probably fair to say that there is less opportunity than before."

APRA monitors all television and radio, and for the most part distributes royalties from all venues based on that result (although there is some adjustment for specialist providers of music to restaurants). It also operates in conjunction with AMCOS, which collects from independent record companies, libraries, and some mechanical royalties from record companies (AMCOS collected $38 million last year, up 12%). Cottle says APRA's administrative overheads represent about 13.5% of the money collected.

The greatest challenge, he says, is to get the government to impose royalty payments on copying. A previous deal to levy blank tapes was overturned in the High Court because it was deemed a tax and considered illegitimate as such. "It is damaging the industry and inequitable for authors." He says the many forms of copying: software, hardware, i-pods, mp3s, are all legitimate targets for royalty. He estimates the increase in royalty take could be $20 million.

"The record industry prefers a voluntary licensing system based on digital rights," claims Cottle. "The fear is that if you give consumers a right across the board it will rebound on them."

The rapid progress of technology continually throws up issues for copyright regulators, the laws for which were framed in an era when methods of transmission were much simpler. Cottle notes that podcasting cannot be controlled or capped, and yet is not subject to regulatory scrutiny. "It is pretty close to file sharing, so it is a real problem. Sometimes copyright owners don't want their works used in that way."

David James, a former Girl Guide, cannot be acknowledged as the author of this article, owing to a syndicated royalty dispute between Time-Warner, Sony-BMG and Madonna. He did, however, write it.

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Lying through furry teeth, bludging, and what bubbly women want.

It's hard being a layabout.

I wake up in the middle of the day feeling like a bear has defecated inside my skull and drag myself out of the house and across the road to the café to order breakfast at a time of the day when "normal" people are having lunch.

A hangover begs for crap food, so I order a burger with the lot, a bag of chips and a milkshake. The funny-looking lady behind the counter is overly bubbly and she takes the order with an annoying smile and brightly enquires, "How's your day been?"

Inside my skull, where the bear's fetid deposit festers, my poor brain goes, "Grrrrowl". I want to say to her, "Shut-up, overly-friendly woman. Make me my burger now."

Instead, out of a learned politeness, I reply with, "It's just starting", with whoops-a-daisy theatrics, so as to seem cute or something. Everyone loves a happy bungling alcoholic, don't they?

What I really mean is, "I just woke up on the floor in my mate's house and knocked over the beer I didn't finish last night".

She nods and smiles and goes to make the burger. What she really wants to say is, "You lazy, useless bludger."

Do we ever say what we really think? No. And do people probably know, or are at least somewhat aware of, what you really mean when you're lying through your teeth? Yes.

The reason I wake up on my mates floor, with my tongue apparently replaced by something approximating the smell and furriness of a ferret, is because last night I played a gig in Ballarat. Here's the break-down: After organising everyone during the day, loading our station-wagon and trailer with heavy equipment, hitting the road at 6:30 pm, driving through the winter blast to the coldest town in Australia, unloading the car and trailer, setting up our equipment, playing for an hour the sort of music where we sweat like pigs and can hardly speak when it's over, packing up our gear and putting it back in the car, sitting and watching the other band, getting on the grog because it's exciting to play a gig in a new town and the beer's free so might as well get stuck into it 'cause who knows when I'll be able to afford my next one, receiving our tremendous 40 dollar payment for services rendered, driving back to Melbourne, docking in at about 2:45 am, unloading the car and trailer again, opening a beer then falling asleep on the chair before I get a chance to have even one sip, and then waking up on the floor in the late morning, I feel delicate, jaded and pretty damn stuffed.

But to the bright eye of the annoyingly bubbly woman behind the counter at the café across the road, I am a lazy, useless bludger.

But I'm not. I just really like beer, and I have no idea what she really likes. There's no real point in explaining.

A woman needs a fish like a man needs a bicycle...

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