Today’s music industry has almost no resemblance to the olden days. Streaming, social media, audience consumption habits, music discovery and live performances have been irrevocably changed.
In retrospect, the hinge point was the release of the original Napster into the wild on June 1, 1999. The digital age of music, which had already begun, albeit slowly, would quickly explode into a wildfire that an unprepared — and frankly, willfully ignorant — music industry couldn’t contain. It took about 15 years for them to adapt to doing business in a vastly different way.
There’s a lot about today’s music industry to love, the primary one being instant access to some 200 million songs via the streaming music services for free (if you use Spotify) and something very close to it for everyone else. No more travelling through time and space to pick up that new album by your favourite artist. Streaming is, by 20th-century standards, indistinguishable from magic and witchcraft.
We’re never going back to the old ways, nor should we. But there are things I miss about the olden days. Here’s my personal list.
Anticipation for album releases
Record labels used to spend weeks setting up the release of an album. It began with an announcement that ‘Artist X’ had completed a record that would be available in stores on such-and-such a date. While fan anticipation built, artist interviews would be set up with music journalists, mostly in person, at radio and TV stations, newspapers and magazines, to tease what was coming up.
In other cases, journalists of all stripes would be flown in for face time for a day or two to someplace like L.A., New York, Nashville or London. All this was done weeks in advance to meet publication deadlines and for radio stations to produce album release specials for their listeners.
As someone who attended a lot of these junkets, it was impossible not to get caught up in the excitement of the release of a new album. We were the first to hear the record, which made us feel rather special. Today, 99 per cent of such junkets are extinct. Instead, we’re doing all promo interviews via Zoom — which is fine, but it’s never a complete substitute for being in the same room as someone.
A couple of weeks ahead of an album appearing in stores, a radio promo single would show up at the radio station, often without notice. For the next while, the only place a fan could hear that song was by listening to the radio. A week out from release day, that single might show up in stores — or not. It all depended on the label’s marketing plans. Radio stations, however, would get a copy of the record so we could produce the album release special. And boy, the paranoid security around handing over a still-unreleased album was intense.
Finally, the public had its shot. In those days, new albums appeared in stores on Tuesdays. If the artist was big enough, stores would open at 12:01 a.m. to begin selling the album to fans who had sometimes lined up outside for hours so they could be the first among their friends to hear this new music. Such events often came with plenty of hoopla, including special swag and prizes.
The mystery of the import release
Before the internet allowed music to flow around the world at the speed of light, things were extremely compartmentalized by territory. Take, for example, an album released by a big British artist. It might take several weeks for anyone in North America to have a chance to buy the U.K. release locally. All we could do on this side of the Atlantic was read about the album and count down the days until marketing made it available in North America. Short of having someone mail a copy, there was no way we could know what the U.K. was already listening to.
Some local stores imported records ahead of the North American release — something that annoyed local branches of the label — but they were extremely expensive to purchase. The fans who shelled out the cash were heroes among their friends. If you had such a friend, you would go to their house with all your other buddies to experience the music ahead of 95 per cent of everyone else.
Annoying as this might have been, this only added to the mystique of the new album.
Record company promotions
Before 2000, money flowed like water in the music industry, thanks to the fat margins on compact discs. Not only did radio stations and video channels benefit from advertising buys for new albums (usually a co-opted deal with a record chain like HMV, Sam the Record Man or Music World), but these broadcasters partnered with labels for everything from giveaways to trips to see a band in some far-flung city. This still happens, but nowhere near as frequently as it used to.
Promo releases
Special promotional copies of vinyl and CD were manufactured just for broadcasters and journalists. Stamped with PROMO ONLY — NOT FOR SALE, they were prized by fans and collectors. Occasionally, they’d leak out and be found for sale in an indie record store. Finding one for your collection felt like stumbling upon forbidden fruit.
Another type of promo copy was compilations of individual songs from artists with upcoming or just-released records. HMV, for example, used to give away these cassettes and CDs for free in partnership with local radio stations. These samplers were a great way to discover new music.
Radio’s role in music discovery
Before streaming, the only way you could hear what was new and hot was by listening to the radio (or by watching MuchMusic or MTV). We took our role as music curators very, very seriously, and there was excitement in that mission. We’d announce that we were playing the new [insert name of act here] at 4 p.m., for instance, creating must-listen radio. We knew that many people were sitting at home with their cassette players on “pause” waiting for a new favourite song to come on, and hoping that the DJ didn’t talk too much over the beginning or the end. That’s what passed for music piracy in those days.
Away from the radio, excitement surrounded video channels like MuchMusic. Every artist coming through Toronto was pretty much obligated to appear on Much. And when it came time for the annual MuchMusic Video Awards, a big chunk of downtown Toronto was shut down. Fans waited in line for days for a good spot in front of the stage.
Artist drop-ins
When money was no object, it was extremely common for record label reps to escort artists to radio and TV stations with impromptu visits. At The Edge in Toronto, we had something called the Live Mic. That meant whenever an artist popped in, all programming ground to a halt, and we’d throw them on the air for a spontaneous interview. I myself was suddenly put face-to-face with Trent Reznor, The Beastie Boys, Blink-182, and dozens of other VIP visitors.
If an impromptu interview wasn’t possible for whatever reason, someone was immediately drafted to interview the band or artist for a later broadcast. We also had programs like Live in Toronto, which featured an in-person live artist interview almost every weekday. Everyone from The Ramones to David Bowie appeared on the show, live and uncensored.
We could sometimes arrange special performances in conjunction with the label or a record store. We sponsored free concerts by artists such as R.E.M., the Red Hot Chili Peppers and Green Day on the street outside the studio.
One of the most memorable was an acoustic Coldplay performance where more than 2,500 people gathered outside the studios, blocking rush-hour traffic on Yonge Street. As program director, I was nearly arrested for allowing this to happen. When it came time for Coldplay to leave, members of the Toronto police mounted unit escorted the band’s SUV to safety. It was worldwide news.
Radio stations still do such things, but far less often. But when they do, it’s still amazing and exciting.
What now?
Like I said at the beginning, we’re never going back to those old days. The economics of music have changed so drastically that there just isn’t the money to do these things. The big record store chains have pretty much all disappeared. And while radio remains powerful, popular and profitable, its position has shifted when it comes to music promotion.
Where’s MuchMusic, MTV, and VH1? They’ve all been converted to lifestyle channels with content that offers little more than continuous showings of Ridiculousness and The Simpsons, with no music performances, interviews or videos to be seen or heard. That’s a far cry from when people used to race home from school and sit in front of the TV in hopes that their favourite video might come on.
Social media has largely replaced the old A&R person who scoured smoky bars and clubs, hoping to find the next big artist or band, who might’ve been playing for 16 people at 11:30 p.m. on a Tuesday.
Showcases for media types and early adopter fans don’t exist the way they used to. Heck, getting late Millennials or Gen Z out to a music venue is now a struggle. And if they do show up, they don’t drink nearly as much as their predecessors, putting a major strain on the venue’s finances.
But there’s no stopping music. It will always be with us in some form or another. Call me an old man yelling at clouds, but I sure miss the excitement, mystery and community of those old days.