Submitted by wesli_dymoke on Sun, 2007-11-04 07:32.
YouTube videographer "mobius32" submits this thoughtful documentary (18:08) of the history of the now-ubiquitous "Amen Break" that underlies nearly all early hip-hop and electronica, segueing into how this history exemplifies also the history of digital audio and the history of content control. The guy's delivery makes Joe Lieberman sound excitable, but the details and subject matter are fascinating for anyone interested in late 20th century music or copyright history.
The piece includes samples of use ranging from the break's origins in The Wintons' 1969 B-side "Amen Brother" to early Brooklyn street hip-hop to NWA to a 2004 Jeep commercial. Appropriately, the entire audio of the documentary is recorded from an inexpensive, low-quality acetate one-off of the type commonly sold by '80s and '90s street musicians.
One thing I found particularly fascinating is how this break seems to be one of only a few examples of originally copyrighted music content that's entered public domain through unrestricted (unchallenged) third-party use. This is how words like 'tabloid' (originally a brand name owned by Bayer) entered the lexicon, and is more common for brand names than for music samples. 'Kleenex', 'Clorox', 'Frigidaire' and at one time even 'Kodak' have had to be very aggressively defended against common appropriation. The Amen Break became appropriated because The Winstons -- who are still around -- made no effort to defend it. In fact, it's now possible to recreate the exact same loop and copyright it on your own as original, though it's probably impossible to defend it against identical recreation, except against actual digital copying.
The fact that a British firm, Zero-Gee, seems to be doing just that (copyrighting their own version just a few years ago, as part of a jungle-music toolkit for beat composers) raises serious and compelling questions about exactly what can and can't be owned, what constitutes owned or appropriated material, and where the line falls between reinvention and appropriation.
If a content owner fails to defend their currently-licensed material against appropriation, is it really possible to take it up and make it your own, and then defend it as if you really owned it yourself? Zero-Gee seems to think so, though only a court could say for certain. They seem to be following the philosophy that it never hurts to try, or at least that it's easier to get forgiveness than permission (a rationale I very often follow myself, though not in attempts to own public domain music). This is not analogous to trying to copyright genuinely public domain material, such as old folk songs, because the music in this case is technically still under license by the original creators -- and thanks to Sonny Bono remains so until 2102, and that's assuming The Winstons break up this year.
The current push-pull between various parties involved in content -- creators, consumers, licensing agencies, government agencies, trade associations, and let's not forget the armies of well-paid lawyers -- can be viewed in many ways, all of which are valid from some perspective: haves vs. have-nots, creative culture vs. culture ownership, creativity vs. commodification, and so on.
But behind all these related debates is a much more fundamental question, rumbling incessantly in the background like a carefully deconstructed breakbeak: Where, as a society, do we seek the balance between real creative culture and profitable material ownership and distribution? Because it's flatly impossible to maximise both at once.
A sane, compassionate society that values people and arts should seek a reasonable compromise, and this is promoted in the Creative Commons licensing framework. But all too much, just as in the early days of blues, jazz, R&B and rock, where the Amen Break was born, profit motives suppress creativity, or at least the furtherance of creativity based on existing works, with the effect that music not only becomes commodified, but the creation of new music becomes less a passion and more of a profession.
It used to be said that you'll know rock is dead when you need a degree to do it. If you have to hire a lawyer to tell you if your own music might be breaking the law, or you need gobs of cash to purchase derivative use licenses in order to make your own music, then how much longer until we get to that point?
