As one of the last demographic members of Generation X,
spanning the cultural gap between cassette tapes, Napster, and hipsters, the
word bootleg has found its way
comfortably into my vernacular. A word that once literally meant the top
portion of a tall boot, or the leather that made up the top of a boot, it has
become an iconic term for an ironically nostalgic culture of on-demand content,
freedom of information, and memetic de-evolution. The bootleg culture is
accelerated, saturated, and exposed.
The most sure-fire way to create an underground market is
through taxation and prohibition. As early as the 16th century, the taxation of
alcohol resulted in the illegal smuggling of rum between colonies. Rum runners
were usually pirates or merchant sailors who would transport the contraband
along with their trade cargo. It is
speculated that during the American Civil War, soldiers would conceal flasks of
liquor in their boots, or under the leg of their trousers, hence the term bootleg, deriving the name of the
action by its method of execution. During
the prohibition of alcohol in the 1920's, bootlegging flourished in the United
States. Legends of Appalachian rum runners, moonshiners, and mob bosses
continue to fascinate us.
Google "bootleg"
and you're sure to find more results on music than liquor. A more contemporary
folktale, the music bootlegger has increasingly become a problem for musicians,
record companies, and shareholders since the 1960's, when unlicensed or unofficial
recordings began to find their way from the preproduction studios to eager
consumers without copyright. In strict definition, a bootleg is different from pirated material such as a burned cd or
peer-to-peer download. Bootlegs are
illicitly or unauthorized distribution of material that is not commercially
released, while pirated or counterfeit material is simply an unauthorized duplicate
of post-production material that has been published. Bootlegs often recordings of live performances, alternate or
deleted recordings, demos, and promotional content.
The advent of the internet completely revolutionized the
music industry, throwing concepts of copyright and intellectual property, and traditional
methods of distribution and marketing, completely out the window of Rick
Rubin's office at Sony headquarters[1].
Peer to peer file sharing reduced much of the music industry to tears of
outrage, and spawned legal action against peer-to-peer intermediaries, such as
Napster, eMule, SoulSeek, BitTorrent, and ISOhunt, not to mention the infamous
lawsuits filed against Napster by Metallica and Dr. Dre.
The effects of internet file-sharing have helped to produce
a culture of accelerated, on-demand media consumption. Outside of the economic
effects of this change, the music industry was shaped by the redefinition of
content. With the entertainment world at their fingertips, it was not enough to
have access to the newest singles and releases, or a massive catalogue of our
favourite artists. When we discovered a way to access free distribution of
unlimited content, we began searching for bootlegs. We grew up with our parents
telling us that we were unique and special, and our music had to reflect that.
So we sought obscurity and rarity instead of popularity and top 40. Instead of
pretending to know who a We were on our way to making a successful industry
based on quality, meaningful content, but somewhere along the way the demand outweighed the supply and we broke open the
floodgates. Now, in order for the music industry to survive, major labels have
to sell concert tickets, promotional material, advertising space, and ringtones
instead of music. They can no longer risk an uncertain investment so any
original content has to be produced on an independent level, artists swimming
upstream against a strong current of user-generated content. The music industry has become memetic, absent of translation and interpretation, capable only of being copied. We wanted the
bootleg, we asked for the gritty underground, and I guess we got it, but we lost something meaningful along the way.
[1] Inside joke: Infamously, Rick Rubin,
the legendary record producer and co-president of Columbia Records, refuses to
work from an office, and has never held one. See Lynn Hirschberg, "The
Music Man." The New York Times, September 2, 2007. http://www.nytimes.com/2007/09/02/magazine/02rubin.t.html?pagewanted=all
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