Old albums are now outselling new ones. Do we need protectionism against the past?

Long copyright terms may not reward the artist, but they make sure that people buy works by new musicians

 

The NME (remember the NME?):

Sales of "old albums" have overtaken sales of "new albums" for the first time over the last six months in the US.

Sales of "old albums", which are classified as LPs that have been on sale for longer than 18 months, numbered at 76.6 million over the last six months, with sales of "new albums" numbering at 73.9 million, reports OC Weekly

Copyright laws are transparently no longer about rewarding artists or incentivising creation. The idea that there is, or ever has been, a musician who sat down to record and then thought "you know what? I would create this art, but my descendants will only get to reap the rewards for fifty years after I die, rather than my preferred seventy," is ridiculous.

What this news shows, though, is one very real reason why long copyright terms might be important: protectionism against the past.

Even with a copyright system which keeps pretty much every song recorded since World War II - and a number recorded before - out of the public domain, "old" albums are still outselling new ones in the US. "Old" is, in this case, defined pretty loosely, but it is hard to imagine what the music market would look like if copyright terms were reduced, even if just to the life of the artist.

Imagine being able to get every song ever recorded by Elvis, Jim Morrison, Elliott Smith or Notorious B.I.G. for free, legally. Would you spend as much on new artists? Would you, in fact, spend anything on new artists?

It's obviously not the case that these long terms directly help up-and-coming musicians. Almost all of the money on every Tupac album sold goes to Universal Music Group, and most of the rest goes to his heirs. While there is the argument that any extra income to record labels helps them take greater risks on new talent, it seems unlikely that that actually translates into them getting a cut of the sales.

But where it might help them is by boosting demand. If you are ambivalent between a Beatles and a Battles album, you are that much more likely to buy the latter if it doesn't cost a thousand times more.

Protectionism against the past, then: artificially raising the price of something you don't want to sell in order to make the thing you want to promote look better.

Of course, there's no guarantee that that actually works. All of the above assumes that people begin with a fixed amount of music that they want to consume, and that every "old" album they listen to is a "new" one they won't. But it is equally as likely that, under the current situation at least, people have a fixed amount of money they want to spend on music, and that making older albums free would increase, rather than decrease, what they spend on new artists.

How to tell the difference? All-you-can-eat subscriptions might provide the answer. Someone who pays £10 a month for Spotify has access to more music than they could reasonably listen to in their lifetime. If all they want is a fixed quantity of music, then they won't spend anything else. If they want to spend a certain amount of money, then they'll start spending more on albums and bands not on the service. Sadly, no-one seems to have done that study, though if anyone does know the answer, I'd be fascinated to see it.

This is all economist noodling, though. As ever, the model has been simplified, and in the real world people don't actually think of "music" as a vast homogenous mass which they purchase. A Radiohead fan won't stop buying their albums just because they could get Elvis for free, and someone who thinks hair metal is the pinnacle of generic perfection is unlikey to buy music from past 1979 no matter how much it costs. But I certainly would like some free Marvin Gaye.

Marvin Gaye performs in the Royal Albert Hall in 1976. Photograph: Getty Images

Alex Hern is a technology reporter for the Guardian. He was formerly staff writer at the New Statesman. You should follow Alex on Twitter.

Photo: Getty
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In focusing on the famous few, we risk doing a disservice to all victims of child sexual abuse

There is a danger that we make it harder, not easier, for victims to come forward in future. 

Back in the 1970s when relations between journalists and police were somewhat different to today a simple ritual would be carried out around the country at various times throughout the week.

Reporters, eager for information for their regional newspaper, would take a trip to the local station and there would be met by a desk sergeant who would helpfully skim through details in the crime Incident Book.

Among the entries about petty thefts, burglaries and road accidents there would occasionally be a reference to an allegation of incest. And at this point the sergeant and journalist might well screw-up their faces, shake their heads and swiftly move on to the next log. The subject was basically taboo, seen as something ‘a bit mucky,’ not what was wanted in a family newspaper.

And that’s really the way things stayed until 1986 when ChildLine was set up by Dame Esther Rantzen in the wake of a BBC programme about child abuse. For the first time children felt able to speak out about being sexually assaulted by the very adults whose role in life was to protect them.

And for the first time the picture became clear about what incest really meant in many cases. It wasn’t simply a low level crime to be swept under the carpet in case it scratched people’s sensitivities. It frequently involved children being abused by members of their close family, repeatedly, over many years.

Slowly but surely as the years rolled on the NSPCC continued to press the message about the prevalence of child sexual abuse, while encouraging victims to come forward. During this time the corrosive effects of this most insidious crime have been painfully detailed by many of those whose lives have been derailed by it. And of course the details of the hundreds of opportunistic sexual assaults committed by Jimmy Savile have been indelibly branded onto the nation’s consciousness.

It’s been a long road - particularly for those who were raped or otherwise abused as children and are now well into their later years - to bring society around to accepting that this is not to be treated as a dark secret that we really don’t want to expose to daylight. Many of those who called our helpline during the early days of the Savile investigation had never told anyone about the traumatic events of their childhoods despite the fact they had reached retirement age.

So, having buried the taboo, we seem to be in danger of giving it the kiss of life with the way some cases of alleged abuse are now being perceived.

It’s quite right that all claims of sexual assault should be investigated, tested and, where there is a case, pursued through the judicial system. No one is above the law, whether a ‘celebrity’ or a lord.

But we seem to have lost a sense of perspective when it comes to these crimes with vast resources being allocated to a handful of cases while many thousands of reported incidents are virtually on hold.

The police should never have to apologise for investigating crimes and following leads. However, if allegations are false or cannot be substantiated they should say so. This would be a strength not a weakness.

It is, of course, difficult that in many of the high-profile cases of recent times the identities of those under investigation have not been officially released by the police but have come to light through other means. Yet we have to deal with the world as it is not as we wish it would be and once names are common knowledge the results of the investigations centring on them should be made public.

When it emerges that someone in the public eye is being investigated for non-recent child abuse it obviously stirs the interest of the media whose appetite can be insatiable. This puts pressure on the police who don’t want to repeat the mistakes of the past by allowing offenders to slip through their hands.  And so there is a danger, as has been seen in recent cases, that officers lack confidence in declaring there is a lack of evidence or the allegations are not true. 

The disproportionate weight of media attention given to say, Sir Edward Heath, as opposed to the Bradford grooming gang sentenced this week, shows there is a danger the pendulum is swinging too far the other way. This threatens the painstaking work invested in ensuring the public and our institutions recognise child abuse as a very real danger. 

Whilst high profile cases have helped the cause there is now a real risk that the all-encompassing focus on them does both victims of abuse and those advocating on their behalf a fundamental disservice.

As the public watches high -profile cases collapsing amidst a media fanfare genuine convictions made across the country week in week out go virtually unannounced. If this trend continues they may start to believe that child sexual abuse isn’t the prolific problem we know it to be.

So, while detectives peer into the mists of time, searching for long lost clues, we have to face the unpalatable possibility that offences being committed today will in turn become historical investigations because there is not the manpower to deal with them right now.

So, now the Goddard Inquiry is in full swing, taking evidence about allegations of child sex crimes involving ‘well known people’ as well as institutional abuse, how do we ensure we don’t fail today’s victims?

If they start to think their stories are going to be diminished by the continuing furore over how some senior public figures have been treated by the police they will stay silent. Therefore we have to continue to encourage them to come forward, to give them the confidence of knowing they will be listened to.

If we don’t we will find ourselves back in those incestuous days where people conspired to say and do nothing to prevent child abuse.

Peter Wanless is Chief Executive of the NSPCC.