Pop-Ambient
The Profitable Machine of Easy Listening 2.0
I've been told that ambient music is having a moment. I recall my early relationship with it as a teenager during the 1990s. I first came to understand this broad genre through Enya, which of course was described as "New Age" during that time. I believe it's adjacent.
The genre has evolved and frankly it happened while I was unaware. In a recent interview with musician, Tim Hecker, in the New York Times, he commented on his role within the musical community and offered a strong opinion on contemporary trends.
“It’s this superficial form of panacea weaponized by digital platforms, shortcuts for the stress of our world. They serve a simple function: to ‘chill out.’ How does it differ from Muzak 2.0, from elevator music?”1
The Icelandic artist, Ben Frost, expressed similar thoughts by sharing a quote on his Instagram.
These algorithmically designed playlists, in other words, have seized on an audience of distracted, perhaps overworked, or anxious listeners whose stress-filled clicks now generate anesthetized, algorithmically designed playlists. One independent label owner I spoke with has watched his records’ physical and digital sales decline week by week… “The more vanilla the release, the better it works for Spotify. If it’s challenging music? Nah,” he says, telling me about all of the experimental, noise, and comparatively aggressive music on his label that goes unheard on the platform. “It leaves artists behind. If Spotify is just feeding easy music to everybody, where does the art form go?”2
In my own musical career, that has included "Ambient music", there was a day and age where no one around me had ever heard the term–1990s Texas. It was a non-starter for most. Witnessing its evolution into a sort of decorative "Muzak" is disappointing, but not surprising.
We're witnessing commercial pressures redefine musical expectations. In fact, it's redefining cultural expectations within and outside this particular community. These pressures have led some musicians down the path of becoming "content creators" for others' financial gain.
Spotify’s ambient playlists have been accused of containing “fake artists” placed there to mitigate expenses. Imagine paying royalties to an artist. Now imagine paying nothing at all to royalty-free “fake artists”. Essentially, the artists in question don’t require a royalty payment because Spotify owns the material. Their real names aren’t used either.
"According to streaming analytics site ChartMetric, the biggest losers in all of this were non-fake ambient/electronic composers. For example, in February 2017, Spotify swapped out 16 tracks on its Ambient Chill playlist by the likes of Brian Eno, Jon Hopkins and Bibio for 28 songs connected to Epidemic Sound."3
"Via the Times' reporting, it became clear that Spotify licensed many of the songs appearing on its mood-based playlists from Epidemic Sound, a Swedish company that shares an investor with Spotify. Though details have yet to emerge about Spotify's exact arrangement with the company, Epidemic Sound maintains a library of royalty-free music and sells licenses for use of that music for "audio and visual use," such as on TV shows and podcasts—in addition to offering a service that provides playlists from their library as a soundtrack for commercial spaces."4
Questionable Intent
Epidemic Sounds is a royalty-free music service and deserves scrutiny. Through my connections, I've learned that they have allegedly amassed a catalog by taking advantage of some student composers. In other words, Epidemic Sounds may have known it could get a lot out of a student composer for a very low payment without the composer understanding long-term implications. I say this as a professor myself. I understand what many students know or don’t know. I understand their carelessness.
I suppose there's a random composer out there who can be proud knowing their music pushed Brian Eno from the Spotify charts… and this artist will remain anonymous and unfairly compensated for their work.
In my opinion, this is happening to a surprising genre. A form of music that almost intrinsically wanted less attention. What is a style of music when it’s pressured into becoming an efficient tool for commerce? What impact does a style of music have when it only comforts us with familiarity and safety?
Does the commodification of music enhance its value?
Are there genres that have been negatively impacted by commerce?
For Your Listening Pleasure
Tim Hecker
Ben Frost
Estevan Carlos Benson
https://www.nytimes.com/2023/04/25/arts/music/tim-hecker-no-highs.html
https://thebaffler.com/salvos/the-problem-with-muzak-pelly
https://www.musicbusinessworldwide.com/fake-artists-still-dominate-spotifys-chill-playlists-now-real-artists-are-fighting-back-with-apple-music/
https://www.vice.com/en/article/8xabb3/spotifys-fake-ambient-artists-essay-free-radicals
One thing I think about, with relation to 90s Texas and the general inability to grasp ambient music (I was there too, and definitely did the required Enya coursework) is that, at least in the cities, our natural soundscapes were often either our cars or other recorded music (often being played from cars but also from apartments, or yards). There is an irony though that Houston also produced Pauline Oliveros. My thoughts are half-baked, but this has me thinking.