Somewhere between Sunday night (March 29) and early Monday afternoon, thousands of social media users changed their profile pictures to splashes of turquoise blue and trending #TIDALforALL simply because their music faves (like Beyonce`, Nicki Minaj and Kanye West) did it and/or told them to. People were literally talking of revolutions, movements and change, knowing nothing more than Jay-Z purchased a music streaming service from a Swedish company called Aspiro (which technically was underway back in January). Some didn't even know that much. That was the first eye-roll I had for this news; people are so quick to bandwagon. They knew nothing, but were on board. Groupthink, blind allegiance and stupid human behavior aside, I looked forward to hearing more because given the acquisition and who was involved, I assumed TIDAL would be an awesome, artist-friendly answer to similar services like Spotify, that have been criticized for giving a severely small financial return to the artists they feature (I was partially right, but more on that in a moment). Heightening the hype was this dramatic, star-studded trailer (a freaking trailer; one that seemed ridiculous after the so-called roll-out), building up to the March 30th press conference where all would be revealed and all questions would be answered. We were on the cusp of  "turning the tide and making music history;" it was "the beginning of the new world," as West touted on Twitter. We all know how Yeezy can exaggerate.

Then, a funny thing happened on the way to innovation. Funny as in weird, not funny haha. Jay-Z and his Justice League of recording artists (including Madonna and Rihanna) signed a declaration (that no one saw the text of), said little and then dipped. The conference was short and horribly bereft of information. The central additional thing we learned was that TIDAL is artist-owned (equity stake was offered) and "combines the best high fidelity sound quality, high definition music videos and expertly curated editorial" for $9.99 and $19.99 (for uncompressed CD quality sound) a month. So...does every subscription dime go to the artists? Is there a significant difference in audio between the subscription options? How large is TIDAL's catalog? Who shot J.R.? How many licks does it take to get to the center of a lollipop? Hardly anything was answered and based on what was told, TIDAL was a shockingly unremarkable, more expensive (a negative consumer buzz word) service. "The new world" was a duplicate of the old one, except artists (who so happened to be wealthy) benefitted more this time and consumers (who aren't wealthy) would have less money in their wallet should they break away from pirating and free streaming. Finance and technology blogs pointed out the unoriginal interface and what seemed to be a flawed business model (using  the word 'seemed' because, again, few details) where audience gains would be few and the company's bottom line is just as weak as its competitor's (Jay-Z's response to this is interesting; I'll be getting to it). Just as critical, but far more cutting was the reaction from consumers. Due to the piss-poor presentation of the conference, Jay-Z and crew came off like a bunch of elitist, arrogant, greedy millionaires begging for more money at the expense of fans. #TidalForAll quickly became #TidalForNoOne on social media; people were throwing tomatoes and the well-intentioned "movement" where artists get the income they deserve from their own work in the streaming world versus industry executives and suits, was massively misperceived. 

Rock & Rant-When I need to quickly rant about music.

In November 2012, I did a “Rock&Rant” marking my observation that the genre of R&B as we knew it had fallen into a dangerous, uninspired extinction ozone, merely hinting at potential causes. I left the article open because I wanted to hear everyone else’s thoughts, but after reading “Why Has R&B Become So Misogynistic?”  by Vibe’s Michael Arceneaux and listening to the R&B farce that was Trey Songz’s  new album, Trigga (see my review here), I’m ready to name the culprit: hip-hop. Hip-hop music (inadvertently) killed R&B.

In the late 1990’s and early 2000’s, hip-hop was establishing itself as the pop music of America and began to leave its mark with other genres. Even country music had to get a taste (ex. Trace Adkins “Honky Tonk Badonkadonk”). Once hip-hop emerged (originating in the 1980’s), it wasn’t long before R&B was synonymous with it, mainly because of color-coding and racism. In spite of this, R&B long maintained its own distinction, but on the way to Oz, it got lost. Other genres that trendily attached hip-hop sustained their genesis and foundation, but mainstream R&B eventually allowed theirs to nearly collapse. These days, you almost can’t tell the difference between an R&B and hip-hop hit: every other song has a rap verse and, increasingly, the harder-driven rhythms, abrasive language and content, misogyny and incensed detachment often heard in hip-hop are becoming common threads in R&B; a genre once characterized by seductively smooth, bluesy and soulful sensuality. The shift I’m describing is lucidly exemplified on the aforementioned Trey Songz record. By the end of it, I yelled “This is not R&B!!” The definitive “I love you more than life itself,” “haven’t been able to sleep since you left” and “close the door and let’s revel in our passion” statements were replaced with  “These hoes going to do what they want…F*** them all the time, but you know I never wife them…I swear these hoes trifling (that’s not an affronting double standard at all),” “If you ain’t the type of b**** talking about relationships, hit me up on that late night s***,” “All we do is f***, drink and sleep” and violent sexual analogies. I thought R&B was supposed to be enticing. I thought R&B was the home of baby-makers, begging pleas, broken moments and wedding playlist jams.

R&B has died and its fan support is wavering because it has isolated its audience and forfeited its personality, charm and quality and become a watered down sub-genus of hip-hop. It’s unrecognizable. It doesn’t know what it is anymore. How can you speak when you have no voice? Some might argue that like any other genre, R&B has various stylistic periods and this is just another phase. The concerning difference, however, is that this phase has too much likeness to an already existing base. Strip it down and the only thing that makes it R&B is that it’s sung. As a fan, it bothers (and surprises) me that I can’t get through even a Kelly Rowland album without hearing multiple expletives, and it’s not even from a featured rapper! Charting top 5 songs have f*** right in the chorus. The sexual representations are tacky, impulsive and lack craft and wit. Sex is now a means to an individually hedonistic end. Further signifying the identity crisis is that even the modern break-offs are fairly bereft of R&B. The burgeoning “Alternative R&B” (AKA PBR&B and Futuristic R&B; ex. Frank Ocean) has thoughtful and tender lyrics, but no musical traits of “rhythm and blues,” and computerized and electronic effects. It’s arguably only branded as R&B because the artists are predominately black, which goes back to color-coding.

Don’t get me wrong, hip-hop has its value and I’m all for genre-mixing: it brings communities together and exposes people to styles they may not have listened to before. This outcome is most likely to occur though when there’s a balance and each side stays true to its defining basis. These “Hoes Ain’t Loyal.”

Many recording artists like Kelly Clarkson, Robin Thicke and Beyonce` have complained about record label executives dictating album material and emphasizing the importance of “making a hit” for their financial gain. This isn’t a new or unheard of concept, but what’s surprising is how much labels spend to increase their chances of having a “hit smash.” According to a report by NPR.org, record labels design “writing camps,” where the hottest writers and producers are recruited to gather and crank out songs over a given period. Producers show up with their arsenal of pre-made tracks, and the summoned writers either pen lyrics based on what they’ve heard right then or fit already-written material to the track. After the music and lyrics are married (in some cases via demo), record executives/or the recording artist choose what songs they like best. Once the songs are selected for studio recording, a vocal producer (or the song’s producer) meets with the artist to execute. Fast forward through a couple of board meetings, listening meetings, legalities, final mastering and album photo-shoots, and you have a finished product ready to go on shelves (that’s the abridged, nutshell version of the remaining process). Pulling from NPR’s estimates, a label is liable to shell out $35,000 per song to pay both writers and producers and then another $15,000 for a vocal producer. Studio costs per day can be up to $25,000 and final mixing and mastering costs around $10,000.

The next major step in “manufacturing a hit” is promotion and radio/music-video play, which can vary in cost. In regards to radio, payola, the illegal practice of offering payment for broadcasting, is still an active part of airwave promotion. To avoid getting busted by the law, money may not blatantly exchange direct hands, but insiders take advantage of having acquaintances in radio, if not for making some new “friends.” Most stations purport that playlists are now based on audience market research results, but some still question broadcast practices. Promotional costs (which can include the artist’s air fare, advertisement spots, etc.) can reach up to 1 million. With this type of expensive bill, I imagine record labels get testy when singles like Rihanna’s “Man Down,” which is anticipated to be a smash, under-perform. Artists generally don’t see a dime from their own record sales until the label has recouped all of their expenditures. In the event that the finances are not returned, an artist may be indebted to the record label, get released from their contract or dropped. Sometimes artists get bogusly blamed for under-performance, particularly if they’ve had artistic input. On one season of MTV’s “Making the Band,” P. Diddy implied to Donny Klang that his single at the time wasn’t taking off because he wasn’t promoting it enough himself. 

My beef with these camp systems is that they kill the existence of custom-made quality songs. The tracks aren’t built around the lyrics and the lyrics aren’t built around the artist. That sucks all the heart and soul out of the music. How can you expect for an artist to perform a song with feeling when all they did was come in and record what someone else molded together?  Artists who gain more creative control and input can add a personal touch, but even those with producing or writing prowess like Robin Thicke, get their neck stepped on by label associates who are only concerned with the financial end; as if quality music won’t bring in quality dollars (some make the argument that only shallow music garners the big bucks, but those who make quality music have longevity and generate dollars more consistently). Thicke stated in a magazine interview that exec Jimmy Iovine told him that they would have to hand out narcolepsy pills with “The Evolution of Robin Thicke” and wanted the singer to “make Billie Jean” and reshape the project. As it was, “The Evolution” ended up making Thicke a household name, despite Iovine’s predictions.

Camp systems also allow room for producers and writers to be lazy and not give their best. Heavily requested because they’re “the hottest producer (or writer) out there,” they try to meet the high demand, which can lead to the same tracks and lyrics being rearranged, matched and reused to save time. If two songs sound similar, it’s likely that the same person produced it. The record label just paid $35,000 for a song that’s essentially recycled. Hmph. Song recycling and recruitment of the same 5 popular hit-makers ultimately leads to redundancy in mainstream music and fatigued listeners, who feel that much less inspired to legally purchase music. If listeners don’t feel like a song or album is worth their dime and they don’t pull out their wallet, record label income reduces and the artists make even less. Writing camps are designed to make bank for record labels and save time, but one could argue they do anything but.

Yearly CD purchases have decreased steadily over the last decade, due in part to internet piracy. Music piracy is now so rampant, albums are leaking online long before their official release dates, ultimately affecting sales. Jay-z & Kanye West’s collaborative record, “Watch the Throne,” successfully hit the market on the planned date of August 8th without any mishaps, however. How did they avoid the leak? Well, according to RollingStone Magazine, having an exclusive release deal with ITunes and department store Best Buy was the key. Industry insiders have concluded that leaks tend to happen because copies of the finished product are stolen from manufacturing plants during shipping. “Throne” was released on Itunes August 8th and will be available at Best Buy on August 12th. By making the album initially available on Itunes only, no shipping is involved. If sales improve as result of this type of release plan, record labels are likely to mass implement it. While this plan seems like a dream come true for the industry, some fans and independent retailers oppose the design. Fans are concerned they may not be able to purchase physical copies if a specific store isn’t available to them and independent retailers won’t be able to sell and profit from anticipated albums. As a consumer, what do you think of exclusive release deals?