Part 19 (1/2)

Yet the chain of borrowing that links The Legendary K.O., Kanye West, Ray Charles, and the Bailey Gospel Singers is of a different kind. This borrowing involves taking chunks of prior musicians' melodies, their words, their lyrical patterns. This is not just copying the genre. It is copying the lines of the song within the genre. This is the kind of stuff copyright is supposed to regulate even when it is working well. And yet, listening to the sequence, it is hard to deny that at each stage something artistic and innovative, something remarkable, has been created. In fact, the story of this song is the striking ability of each set of artists to impose their own sound, temperament, spirituality, humor, vision of women, or, in the case of The Legendary K.O., their intense and profane political anger, onto the musical phrases they have in common.

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The postmodern conclusion here is ”there is nothing new under the sun”--that all creation is re-creation, that there is no such thing as originality, merely endless imitation. If this is meant to be a comment about how things get created, at least in music, I think there is some truth to it. But if it is a claim about aesthetic worth, a denial that there are more and less creative individuals in the arts, I find it as facile and unconvincing as its romantic authorial opposite.

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What is fascinating about the artists I describe here is that, while they do not fit neatly into either the aesthetic ideal of independent creation or the legal model for how creative expression gets made, they each have a remarkable, palpable creativity. Each leaves us with something new, even if formed partly from the fragments of the past. One could describe Ray Charles as the merest plagiarist--making ”search and replace”

songs by subst.i.tuting a woman for the deity in already- established hits. But if that is our conclusion, it merely proves that our theories of aesthetics are poorer than the creativity they seek to describe. So much the worse for the theories.

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As Jefferson pointed out, the lines surrounding intellectual property are hard to draw--something the Bridgeport court got right. When we draw them, whether legally or as a matter of aesthetic morality, we do so partly with standard instances in mind. ”Well, that can't be wrong,” we think to ourselves, and reason by a.n.a.logy accordingly. Yet the process of a.n.a.logy fails us sometimes, because the types of borrowing change over time.

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Ray Charles was frank about the way he copied the style and licks of Nat King Cole like an apprentice learning from a lawyer. But he and his estate a.s.siduously guarded his copyrights against more modern borrowing they found to be inappropriate.

Judge Duffy thunderously denounces Biz Markie. It is harder to imagine him leveling the same condemnation at Dizzy Gillespie, Charles Ives, Oscar Peterson, or, for that matter, Beethoven, though all of them made copious use of the works of others in their own. It is bizarre to imagine a Bridgeport-like rule being extended to composition copyrights and applied to music such as jazz. ”Get a license or do not solo”? I think not. Does it make any more sense for sampling?

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If there is a single reason I told the story of these songs it is this: to most of us, certainly to me, the idea that copyright encourages creativity and discourages the reuse of material created by others seems reasonable. Of course, I would want to apply the correctives implied by the Jefferson Warning--to make sure the rights were as short and as narrow as possible. But at least when it comes to copying chunks of expression still covered by copyright, our intuitions are to encourage people to create ”their own work,” rather than to rely on remix. What does that mean in the world of music? As the story I have told here seems to ill.u.s.trate, even musicians of unquestioned ”originality,” even those who can make a claim to having created a new musical genre, sometimes did so by a process rather more like collage than creation out of nothing, taking chunks of existing work that were proven to work well and setting them in a new context or frame.

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Imagine Ray Charles trying to create ”I Got a Woman” today. Both of his possible sources would be strongly and automatically protected by copyright. The industries in which those works were produced would be much more legalistic and infinitely more litigious. The owners of those copyrights could use them to stop him from ”desecrating their work”--which is literally what he is doing. We know Clara Ward objected to Charles's other borrowings from gospel. I cannot imagine Will Lamartine Thompson or his worthy neighbors in East Liverpool looking kindly on the sweet ”early morning loving” outside of wedlock described in ”I Got a Woman,” still less the use of sacred music to glorify it. And copyright gives them the power to say no. Remember Macaulay's description of how Richardson's novels might have been censored by a moralistic heir? Even if the objections were not vetoes, but simple demands for payment, would we get ”I Got a Woman” and ”This Little Girl of Mine”? Given the extent of the borrowing that jump-started this particular genre-bridging effort, would we be likely to see the birth of soul music?

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Congress a.s.sures us that the many increases in copyright protection have been in the name of encouraging creativity. The music industry says the same thing when its pettifogging clearance procedures and permission culture are criticized. But do we really think we are more likely to get a twenty-first- century Ray Charles, or a fusion of styles to create a new genre, in the world we have made? Do we really think that the formalist ignorance of Judge Duffy or the market optimism of the Bridgeport court, in which thick markets offer fungible sets of samples to be traded like commodities, are good guides for the future of music? Are we in fact killing musical creativity with the rules that are supposed to defend it?

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An Internet optimist would tell us that is precisely the point.

True, because of the errors described in the chapter on the Jefferson Warning, and the mistakes catalogued in the chapters on the Internet Threat and the Farmers' Tale, we have dramatically expanded the scope, length, and power of the rights that are supposed to shape our creative culture. But technology cures all. Look at The Legendary K.O., The Black Lantern, or Franklin Lopez. They are all probably breaking the law as it is currently interpreted by the courts. But their work can be created for pennies and distributed to millions. The technology allows people to circ.u.mvent the law. Admittedly, some of the copyright holders will police their rights a.s.siduously--think of JibJab's newfound dislike of fair use and their power to alter The Black Lantern's video. But others either cannot or will not.

Kanye West's representatives in particular are unlikely to be stupid enough to sue The Legendary K.O. in the first place.

Internet distribution becomes a demimonde in which the rules of the rest of the society either cannot or will not be enforced.

Art gets its breathing room, not from legal exceptions, but from technological enforcement difficulties. Finally, as more and more people can create and distribute digital culture, they are less likely to understand, believe in, or accept rules that are strongly at variance with their aesthetic and moral a.s.sumptions.

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There is a lot to these points. The technology does transform the conditions of creativity, and sometimes it runs right over the law in the process. Thousands, even millions, can be reached outside of conventional distribution channels with work that is technically illegal. And att.i.tudes toward creative propriety do not track legal rules. When I wrote to Mr. Randle and Mr.

Nickerson, I found that they realized Mr. West probably had a legal right to get their work taken down, but they felt he would not use it, and they had a very commonsensical conception of what they ought to be allowed to do. They were not making any money from this. They were making a political point, drawing attention to a political and human problem. That made it okay.

They would have liked more formal permission so that they could actually distribute CDs through conventional for-profit channels, perhaps with some portion of the proceeds going to disaster relief, but they understood they were unlikely to get it.

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Despite all this, I am uncomfortable with the argument ”do not worry, technology will allow us to evade the rules where they are stupid.” A system that can only function well through repeated lawbreaking is an unstable and dangerous one. It breeds a lack of respect for the law in those who should be its greatest supporters and beneficiaries. It blurs civil disobedience and plain old lawbreaking. Sitting in on the segregated lunch counter and being willing to face the consequences is very different from parking in the disabled s.p.a.ce and hoping you can get away with it. It also blurs our judgment of conduct. Whatever one thinks of them, The Legendary K.O. are doing something very different than a college student who just does not want to pay for music and downloads thousands of tracks for free from file sharing networks.

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The problem is not simply one of blurring. Technology-based ”freedoms” are not reliable (though legal ones, too, may fail).

In a pinch, the technology may not save you, as thousands of those same downloaders have found out when sued by the RIAA and forced to pay thousands of dollars for an activity they thought to be private and anonymous. The Internet ”solution” also leaves certain types of artistic creation dependent on the vagaries of the current technology, which may well change, eliminating some of the zone of freedom we currently rely on. But more worrisome is the fact that this ”solution” actually confines certain types of art to the world of the Internet.

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The video of ”George Bush Doesn't Care About Black People” could be seen by many, but only if they were wired to the right technological and social network. (After all, someone has to tell you to watch.) It was a searing intervention in the national debate on Katrina. But it appeared on no television station. Like most of the mashups created online, the fact that the rights could never be cleared keeps it off ma.s.s media.

Copyright acts as the barbed wire around ma.s.s media outlets.

That is a shame, I think. Not because that video is so good--you may love it or hate it. But because this kind of artwork has something important to contribute to our national culture.