Beth Fridinger
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1/11/2009 7:52:18 PM
music industry bites the hand that feeds it; live music venues are closing
Basically music industry is going after coffee houses and small bars for licensing fees...and many live music venues are disappearing as a result. I think it's pathetic to charge a bar for having open mics:
Tough choices: Coffeehouse owner Bruce Schrader had
to shut down open mic night.
Tony Avelar/The Christian Science Monitor
Music industry shuts down open mics nationwide
Play it again ... and we'll sue
Venues for up-and-coming artists are disappearing as copyright
licensing fees get stiffer, although some relief is in sight.
By Tim Holt | Contributor to The Christian Science Monitor
from the January 9, 2009 edition
After a 30-year run, the owner of the Sacred Grounds Coffee House in
San Francisco has shut down the Thursday night open mics. Mamma Llama,
a small coffeehouse in Weaverville, Calif., no longer features
musicians from near and far. Open mics at the Ragged Edge Coffee House
in Gettysburg, Pa., are down from 50 to 60 audience members to no more
than 15 these days.
These grass-roots music events, spawning grounds for the next
generation of musical talent, have come up against the demands of US
copyright law, as enforced by a handful of companies who act as
collection agents for songwriters and composers. The law states that
no performer in a public venue can present someone else's copyrighted
music without their permission and, usually, without compensating
them. A number of agencies, chief among them Broadcast Music, Inc.
(BMI) and the American Society of Composers, Authors and Publishers
(ASCAP), charge music venues an annual copyright "license fee" ranging
from $300 to nearly $10,000 for the privilege of presenting someone
else's music.
Much of the music at those Ragged Edge open mics was written by the
performers, but there was also cover music from the likes of Bob Dylan
and the Grateful Dead. ASCAP wanted a license fee of $900 a year from
Ragged Edge owner Jake Schindel. He paid up and, to recoup that
expense, started charging a cover fee, which caused attendance to
dwindle. He was losing money, stopped paying the fee, and has cut back
his musical offerings to unadvertised – and often poorly attended –
events.
Bruce Schrader, who owns the Sacred Grounds Coffee House, tried to
keep his open mics going by having his performers sign waivers stating
they were playing only their original songs. Nevertheless, he was
faced with demands for $6,000 in license fees from the agencies and
had to shut down the weekly event last year.
"Their argument," Mr. Schrader said, "was that I couldn't possibly
know whether the performers were singing any of the millions of
copyrighted songs they represent, so I'd better get a license if I
didn't want to get sued."
As soon as Mamma Llama owner Steve Friedman agreed to pay ASCAP an
$800 annual fee, two other agencies demanded license fees. So he just
stopped offering live music. "It was impossible to have the music
without getting continuous calls and e-mails from these guys demanding
payment," he recalls.
Smaller music venues around the country are struggling to pay these
licensing fees. Many simply get worn down by repeated demands from the
agencies for payment and threats of costly lawsuits and simply drop
live music offerings altogether.
"It's killing the local music scene," laments folk musician Spook
Handy, who's seen performance venues in his hometown of New Brunswick,
N.J., drop from around 40 in the mid-1980s to half a dozen now. "We're
not bringing up a new generation of musicians. They just don't have
places to play."
There's general agreement in the music industry that the number of
small venues offering live music is declining, although it's not clear
how much of this is due to enforcement of copyright law.
Vince Candilora, ASCAP's vice president for licensing, says the fees
are set at a "very good rate," adding, "What gives anyone the right to
use someone else's property, even though they're not making money on
it? I can guarantee you the phone company's going to charge you
whether you're making money or not."
Despite this tough talk, there has been a softening in fees: ASCAP
lowered its rates for the smallest venues last January, down from
around $1,000 a year to $350, closely matching BMI's current rates.
And there's the possibility of more reductions: The Memphis-based Folk
Alliance, an advocate for up-and-coming artists, is negotiating with
BMI to cut fees even further. BMI is receptive to the idea, according
to Alliance negotiator Renee Bodie, and she hopes new rates will be in
place in the next six months and that ASCAP will match any new BMI fees.
"We're discussing ways to give these smaller places a break,"
acknowledges BMI spokesman Jerry Bailey. "We realize they're helping
to support the next generation of performers."
If that's the case, BMI has some fence-mending to do. Coffeehouse
owners complain of intimidation tactics. Bailey says lawsuits are
threatened, and sometimes pursued, only when BMI has proof that
violations of copyright law have occurred.
One southern California coffeehouse owner, who asked to remain
anonymous, said he was able to get his total annual fees down to
$1,000 from three agencies by telling them he wouldn't open unless he
got rock-bottom rates. That was 10 years ago. He's still in business,
but not happy about having to pay even those fees: "We're the people
who give performers their start, and we have to pay for the privilege."
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