Patent trolls of indie rock

Long ago, the patent system was set up to encourage innovation by protecting intellectual property rights. The process of awarding a patent was typically straightforward, since every invention was some kind of physical contraption that performed some obviously useful function. So you either invented something or you didn't, and a roomful of engineers was all that the patent office needed to make a sound judgment on that.

A few decades ago, the nature of innovation began to change. As new concepts and methods were being devised that were every bit as groundbreaking as the telegraph a century prior, patents started to be filed for algorithms and software that only a handful of specialists in newly established fields could understand. Overwhelmed, the patent office awarded quite a few of them, including some so broadly and vaguely worded that their holders could conceivably claim ownership of the entire Internet.

And some now do. They're called patent trolls, and they make their living by buying up old patents and filing frivolous lawsuits. These patent trolls produce nothing of value themselves, which makes them impervious to countersuit, so most companies decide to settle rather than risk lengthy injunctions. Cautionary tales abound of scrappy startups that chose to fight instead, spent years in legal limbo, and eventually won their case, but then had to file for bankruptcy because of expensive lawyer fees.

By exploiting a loophole in a system designed to encourage innovation, patent trolls end up stifling it instead. But here's the thing: they're not breaking any laws. Nothing is underhanded, and everything's transparent. In fact, they operate completely within the system, which means that the system guarantees⁠— and is synonymous with⁠— their well-being, much as walking barefoot on the beach guarantees and is synonymous with getting sand between your toes.

So this is when we step back and ask ourselves, do we value the patent system as it presently stands, or do we value its original intent? Pretty much everyone agrees that we should be rewarding innovators, not patent trolls. Ultimately, we care about the spirit underlying the patent system, not the patent system itself. And so changes will have to be made.

In my lifetime, I've seen two similar situations happen in the world of rock music. The first has been resolved; the second, I think, is still being decided.

The first situation is the glam metal phenomenon that reached its peak in the late '80s. It's easy to forget now, but glam actually made sense when it first began in the early '70s. While its androgyny questioned gender roles, the theatrical nature of it helped keep the subversion lighthearted. But a generation later, long-haired men wearing lipstick and tight leather pants were singing about picking fights and sleeping with groupies. And earnestly living that lifestyle, or trying to. Glam, in other words, was overrun by trolls, who no longer reflected its original intent.

There were some who were comfortable with this, but the ones whose opinions actually mattered⁠— the next generation seeking new aesthetics and ideals to call their own⁠— were not. These kids wanted rebellion and progressive values, not teased perms and lipstick. And so glam metal died, not because grunge killed it, but because it had lost sight of its underlying spirit, alienating those entrusted with keeping it alive.

The second situation is indie rock today. Like glam, indie rock made sense when it first began in the '80s, as a reaction against lifeless, watered-down radio tunes catering to the lowest common denominator. Everyday kids, unburdened by corporate concerns, were forming bands with their friends, playing at parties and local shows, and defying artistic boundaries without pretense. Through mixtapes and word-of-mouth, they promoted and distributed their own music, and this independence is what came to define the genre.

A generation later, though, things look very different, with self-promotion now being the primary focus. While not totally devalued, daringness and originality⁠— indie rock's original intent⁠— are simply taken as self-evident virtues possessed by those with the conviction to promote themselves. But this creates an obvious loophole: an artist focused solely on self-promotion suffers no damage, and therefore enjoys a huge advantage over those diverting at least some effort towards making music of value. And once a loophole is known, a patent troll will come along to exploit it. Some now have.

I'll mention only the most extreme and obvious one: Andrew W.K. I don't feel good calling anyone a troll, except that his biggest fans already do so. No one, these fans included, credits his music with being daring or original⁠— rather, he's respected for the conviction and passion with which he promotes himself. And even when begrudgingly given by his critics, that respect is always genuine. Why is this? It should be obvious: once you've embraced the system for what it now is⁠— a scene that celebrates and rewards self-promotion⁠— then you have to stay at least somewhat charitable to those who take this ideal to its logical conclusion by only self-promoting.

Because, like it or not, these trolls operate completely within the system. Nothing is underhanded, and everything's transparent. And certainly very little is at stake, in a genre where innovation not only hasn't been seen for some time, it hasn't been missed. Which means it's perfectly okay to admire Andrew W.K. for his sincerity, and possibly even mean-spirited not to. So while Pitchfork initially gave I Get Wet a scathing 0.6 ten years ago, this year they gave its reissue a glowing 8.6 review.

In other words, the lesson Pitchfork managed to learn sometime within the last decade is that you can love the trolls at best or tolerate them at worst, but the one thing you simply cannot do⁠— at least not without looking downright silly⁠— is denounce them while still trying to embrace the system. Because the one is guaranteed by⁠— and therefore synonymous with⁠— the other. You might as well flip out because there's sand between your toes after walking barefoot on the beach.

So Pitchfork has grown comfortable with what indie rock has become: a system that now exists for its own sake, rather than that of its underlying spirit. But what about those whose opinions will matter most in the future⁠— the next generation seeking new aesthetics and ideals to call their own? I suppose that depends on whether it's even possible for any new subculture to be attractive enough to replace indie rock. So here's a thought experiment. If indie rock is the new glam metal, then what will the new grunge look and sound like?

I can think of one possible suggestion, but that will have to wait for another blog post.

Addendum, December 17, 2012: A thought came to me as I was finishing this up. In Robert Cialdini's book Influence: The Psychology of Persuasion, he mentions a curious phenomenon related to mother turkeys, who feed and coddle their young in response to hearing them chirp. This instinct evolved, of course, as an efficient way for the mother to reserve time and resources for only her healthiest babies.

What some scientists discovered is that if they placed a stuffed polecat nearby, the mother turkey would try to defend her chicks by attacking it. When they placed a tape recorder playing chirps inside the stuffed polecat, however, she would coddle and feed it instead. Then once the tape stopped, she would go back to attacking it.

It's strange behaviour, but of course nature knows what it's doing. Brainpower is very expensive in terms of the energy it consumes, so the turkey's mothering instinct is optimised to get the best results using the least brainpower. It's a perfectly efficient system overall, and a few trolls exploiting its loopholes⁠— in this case, scientists wielding stuffed polecats that chirp⁠— can never come close to undermining it.

All of this is to say that I'm probably not being fair in my brief assessment of the current situation in indie rock. Obviously, people in this scene didn't suddenly decide to kick daringness and originality to the curb. Rather, they're overworked and underpaid, which means that time and energy are precious resources that can't be spent on finding new bands that aren't readily visible. And since the best bands have the most to gain by promoting themselves and staying visible, then a system that equates self-promotion with being good is probably the optimal one for giving us the best results for the least effort.

The alternative would be to search under every rock to find those few bands that are good but for some weird reason don't promote themselves. That would be painfully tedious and time-consuming. Like giving more brainpower to a turkey, the slight improvement in results wouldn't justify the extreme costs required to close the system's loopholes. Besides, how hard is it to self-promote, really? So if indie rock is a perfectly efficient system overall, then we can afford to embrace those few trolls who manage to exploit its loopholes. After all, they keep things interesting and fun.

The problem, of course, lies in the assumption that it actually is an efficient system. Is it really? After all, time and energy are limited resources, so the more a band invests in self-promotion, the less it's able to invest in making music. And then there's the Dunning-Kruger effect, which shows that the least competent people are oftentimes the most self-confident, precisely because their incompetence prevents them from recognising that they're incompetent. And self-confident people are the ones most willing to promote themselves.

So I guess we'll never know for sure, until some new music label comes along that's willing to do things fundamentally differently. Or until enough people actually bother to consider how the history of music has played out for the last five hundred years. Either one.

Anyway, I don't think any of this contradicts what I was saying earlier. It just clarifies and refines my original point.