Date: Thu, 4 Dec 2003 02:15:27 -0800 (PST)
From: "J.M. Adams" <ringfingers-AT-yahoo.com>
Subject: [postanarchism] Rosen: "Technology and Anarchy in the UK Music Industry"


‘It was easy, it was cheap, go and do it!’  Technology
and anarchy in the UK music industry[1]
 
by Paul Rosen

Abstract
 
This paper argues that the independent record scene
that developed out of punk rock in the late 1970s and
early 1980s embodied anarchist principles, even though
few of those involved would have called themselves
anarchists.  Advocates of independent records resisted
the control of the mainstream music industry and in
some cases actively sought to subvert it.  They allied
punk’s ‘access aesthetic’, which challenged elitist
conceptions of the ‘artist’ and aimed to break down
the barrier between producers and consumers of music,
with a do-it-yourself ethic that challenged the
relations of production in the music industry.
            The paper argues that change in the music
industry is closely linked to technological change. 
Technology must therefore be a crucial element of
anarchist cultural intervention.  The paper highlights
the limitations of existing anarchist approaches to
technology, and suggests that anarchists need to treat
technology as integrated with culture, rather than
automatically equating it with hierarchical social
structures.
 
 
 
 
 
 
‘Let me try and define what I mean by anarchist.  I
mean, someone who doesn’t believe in governments. 
Someone who believes in self-expression, self rule.’
Kate, the singer, in the film ‘Breaking Glass’[2],
talking to the boss of her record label just after
signing a contract with him.
 
 
This paper is something of a hybrid.  Firstly, it’s a
personal excursion into my past, delving into the
debris of my youth, much of which I spent listening to
music by unknown bands[3], going to their gigs, buying
their records, playing in my own unknown bands and
making our own records, as well as reading and writing
about all this in various fanzines.  Secondly, though,
this paper is an attempt to account for what I and
others were doing then in terms that I've only come to
understand later.  Whilst a lot of people bandied the
word ‘anarchy’ around in those days, especially
followers of the band Crass and their associates, I
certainly never recognised what I was doing at the
time as anarchism in practice.  In this paper I’m
going to attempt to make that link, and to draw in
some aspects of social theory that I’d probably have
cringed at fifteen years ago but that now occupy my
time as much as music did then[4].
            My focus for the most part is going to be
the flourishing independent record and cassette scenes
that quickly followed the appearance of punk rock in
the late 1970s, and survived into the early 1980s
before dissipating.  I also want to talk, though,
about technology, as I feel this topic is central in
bringing together independent music production with
anarchism.  Briefly, my argument is that anarchist
writings tend to have a limited and often simplistic
perception of technology.  To achieve an anarchist
society will require more than either eliminating
technology, as some desire, or putting technology
‘into the service of’ anarchism, as might seem a
better solution.  It will, rather, require a
transformation of the relations between technology and
culture, something that I see as a major achievement
of the musical cultures I’ll be discussing.
 
 
Computers, the state and social interaction
 
            To begin by looking at anarchist accounts
of technology, a few years ago I spent an afternoon or
two trawling through back issues of Freedom for
references to technology.  Predictably enough, I found
a lack of consensus about the subject, or even about
what 'technology' means.  The various perspectives I
found tended, though, to take a negative view, and
most focused on information technology.  Computers in
particular are, with good grounds, regarded by many
anarchists as a symbol of the power of the state,
facilitating the state’s requirements in helping
gather and retrieve information about its citizens,
who can then be regulated with the help of this
information[5].
            As well as facilitating the erosion of
civil liberties by the state, information technology
more broadly is mistrusted by anarchists because of
the way it is perceived to undermine human social
contact, something that can also be applied to
technology in general. Denis Pym, for example, argues
that microwave ovens ‘undermine the conviviality of
household meals and the sacredness of food’[6]. 
Andrew Hedgecock similarly regards the rise of video
and computer games as contributing to children's
growing inability to socialise[7], whilst for Gregg
Easterbrook this is an example of the way people in
our culture are increasingly turning to computers
rather than to other people for companionship[8]. 
These are important issues from an anarchist
perspective because those who opt for the 'cosy myopia
of manufactured fantasy will be unable to carry out an
informed critique of the way we live'[9].  Technology
is implicated, for these writers, both in the
maintenance of a society which is antithetical to
freedom and autonomy, and also in the construction of
a psychology that is least conducive to these crucial
elements of anarchism.

Technology in Utopia
 
            This outlook on technology isn’t the only
one open to anarchists, though.  Murray Bookchin takes
an almost completely opposite view to these writers,
and to those who oppose technology outright on
ecological grounds (see Edward Abbey’s inspiring novel
The Monkey Wrench Gang, for example[10]). Bookchin
roots his approach in an understanding of ecology as
something broader than simply 'the environment', and
whilst he recognises the role played by technology in
the rise of industrial capitalism, he sees in certain
new technological developments - such as automation,
roboticisation and flexibilisation - a means of moving
beyond such oppressive technology.  Most specifically,
he sees technological change as a potential means of
alleviating the want and toil that characterise
industrial capitalism for its workers.  New machinery
can in his view free people to pursue their own
creativity[11].
            This view seems a little naive given the
nature of who controls the kinds of technology
Bookchin discusses, and the way the development of
this technology has been embedded in established
economic practices - as Winner argues regarding
computer technology[12].  Nevertheless, for Bookchin,
ending the exploitation of people is crucial to ending
the exploitation of ‘nature’, making technology of
prime importance.  This perception gives rise to the
notion of a ‘liberatory technology’, centring around
three questions:
 
What is the liberatory potential of modern technology,
both materially and spiritually?  What tendencies, if
any, are reshaping the machine for use in an organic,
human-oriented society?  And finally, how can the new
technology and resources be used in an ecological
manner - that is, to promote the balance of nature,
the full development of natural regions, and the
creation of organic, humanistic communities?[13]
 
            This approach clearly draws on the work of
Lewis Mumford, especially on Mumford's distinction
between 
 
two technologies [that] have recurrently existed side
by side:  one authoritarian, the other democratic, the
first system-centred, immensely powerful, but
inherently unstable, the other man-centred, relatively
weak, butresourceful and durable.[14]
 
            In these terms, anarchist studies of
technology have tended to focus their attention on the
authoritarian side oftechnology rather than on its
democratic potential.  This has consequently shaped
the anarchist conception of 'technology' as something
inherently authoritarian - rather than something which
can also be democratic, or, in Bookchin's words,
liberatory.  The term 'technology' tends to be
applied, and not just by anarchists, mainly to
large-scale technologies.  Eugene Schwartz, for
example, refers specifically to '[t]he steel mill, the
atomic reactor, . . . an orbiting satellite . . .
roads, communications and factories'.[15]  He doesn't
refer to any of the far more mundane artifacts of the
kind that recent work in social studies of technology
has focused on - for example, bicycles, light bulbs,
stoves and fridges.[16]  Such studies aim to explore
the ways in which technology is interwoven with our
everyday lives, rather than its more common portrayal
as a rather sinister shadow that threatens us from a
distance.
            This difference between how we conceive
large- and small-scale technologies is underlined in a
paper by Ron Sakolsky, who tells the story of
WTRA/Zoom Black Magic Liberation Radio, a
decentralised, open access, community-based radio
station located in a black housing estate in
Springfield, Illinois.[17]  Sakolsky sees this station
as an example of 'anarchy on the airwaves', addressing
in particular the way radio broadcasting regulations
in America discriminate against community-based local
radio.  The station’s transmitter is less than 10
watts, powerful enough to reach 70% of its target
audience in the local African-American community, and
cheap enough for a poor community to afford.  It is,
however, illegal, since it falls short of the
specified minimum transmitter capacity of 100 watts,
which would be beyond the community’s resources as
well as unnecessary. Sakolsky treats this as a
political issue, but not also as a technological
issue, even though the relationship between politics
and technology in this case raises important questions
for anarchists:  about the regulation of technology by
the state, about the autonomy of local communities to
organise themselves, and consequently about the scale
and viability of community-centred technology.
 
 
 
Punk rock, DIY music, and the ‘access aesthetic’
 
            For the rest of this paper I want to look
at another example that I regard as a democratic or
liberatory use oftechnology.  I’m going to narrate a
story about the development of independent records and
cassettes within the music culture that grew out of
punk rock in the late 1970s and early 1980s, and to
trace how this culture articulated concerns about
autonomy and about breaking down boundaries between
production and consumption - concerns that align it in
my view with anarchism, although few of those involved
explicitly called themselves anarchists.  Technology
has a central role in this story - in the production,
reproduction and distribution of music - making it an
exemplary illustration of how technological change and
cultural change together can help further anarchist
objectives and attempt to influence society more
broadly.
            I'm very conscious that this is a partial
story, covering only a specific aspect of independent
record production, and only my own particular version
of this;  others might remember it differently, or
have stories of very different situations to tell.  It
is also only one example of independent record
production in the history of the music industry,
although more sustained than most and probably more
influential.[18]  Partial as it is, the story begins
with punk rock, in particular the punk ethos of
autonomy and individualism, of refusing to compromise
with the establishment - of doing it yourself rather
than accepting what’s been offered to you by others. 
Many accounts now exist of the waves of people
inspired by seeing the first punk bands - the Sex
Pistols, the Clash, the Damned, etc. - to reject
established rock music and form their own bands.[19] 
Hot on the heels of the bands came the fanzines,
pioneered in Britain by Mark Perry (or Mark P. as he
originally called himself to avoid being found out by
the dole office) with Sniffin' Glue in the summer of
1976.  Sniffin’ Glue and other fanzines called on
their readers to start their own fanzines and form
their own bands, establishing what Jon Savage calls
the ‘access aesthetic’[20] - the notion that making
and writing about music should be open to anyone (see
Figure 7.1).
 

 
            This period also saw the emergence of
independent record labels such as Stiff and Chiswick
that were initially linked to the pub rock scene which
spawned forerunners and early stars of punk such as
Elvis Costello, Nick Lowe, Dr. Feelgood, and the bands
that later became the Damned,  the Clash and others. 
The major labels that controlled most of the music
industry began scurrying for a piece of the punk
action (and market share) following the Sex Pistols’
high media profile from December 1976 onwards, and
signed up almost all the most prominent punk bands
during 1977, beginning with the Clash.  At the same
time, though, the number of independent labels was
also beginning to grow. The Buzzcocks issued their
‘Spiral Scatch’ EP in February 1977 on their own New
Hormones label, helping them sign with United Artists
that summer.  Between then and late 1978, dozens more
independent labels began to release their first
records, and the tide continued into the early 1980s.
            The most prominent labels were set up by
entrepreneurs of various kinds:  Illegal, Deptford Fun
City and Step Forward were all linked via Miles
Copeland’s Faulty Products umbrella;  labels such as
Rough Trade, Beggar’s Banquet, Small Wonder and Good
Vibrations were offshoots of independent record
shops;  Fast Products was set up specifically as a
stepping stone for bands wanting to sign to the major
labels;  whilst others including Cherry Red, had
become key players in the independent scene by the
early 1980s, as had Mute, originally the vehicle for
proprietor Daniel Miller’s own single as The Normal .
. . and the list goes on.
            From the bands' perspectives, independent
labels served a variety of purposes, some contrasting
sharply with the perspective of the entrepreneurial
outfits.  A few bands maintained a long career signed
to an independent - the Fall (Step Forward, Rough
Trade, Kamera, Beggar's Banquet) were a notable
example for some time.  Many others consciously used
the larger independents as a stepping stone to a deal
with the majors, for example, Stiff Little Fingers
(from Rough Trade to Chrysalis), the Adverts (from
Stiff to Anchor), Squeeze and the Police (from
Deptford Fun City and Illegal, both to A&M), and the
bands who signed initially to Fast:  the Gang of Four
(to EMI), the Mekons and the Human League (both to
Virgin).
            A further trend that developed, though,
which I’m more interested in, saw many bands putting
out records themselves, on labels which often released
no other artist, or perhaps released only records by
the proprietor's friends, or by bands from the local
area.   For many of these labels, this was an
extension of  the ‘access aesthethic’ promoted in
fanzines - the idea that you didn't have to stop at
forming your own band and writing your own fanzine,
but could start your own record label as well.[21] 
The earliest example of this, as an explicit intention
at least (and certainly in the independents'
folklore), were the Desperate Bicycles, who stated on
the sleeve of their second single, 'The Medium Was
Tedium'/'Don't Back The Front' (Refill Records, 1977),
that they ‘formed in March 1977 specifically for the
purpose of recording and releasing a single on their
own label’.  The sleevenotes go on: ‘They’d really
like to know why you haven’t made your single yet.  .
. .  So if you can understand, go and join a band. 
Now it’s your turn . . .’  Backing up a point made by
fanzine writers, the Desperate Bicycles adopted as
their slogan the phrase ‘It was easy, it was cheap, go
and do it’.  Producing the first single,
'Smokescreen'/'Handlebars' (Refill Records, 1977) cost
a total of £153 - in BBC Radio 1 DJ John Peel's words,
an amount any band could afford if the bass player
sold their motorbike and the rest of the band robbed a
few telephone boxes.[22]
            The example set by the Buzzcocks with
'Spiral Scratch' and the Desperate Bicycles with
'Smokescreen'  was quickly taken up by other bands
keen to put their own records out.  Zigzag magazine's
1978 'Small Labels Catalogue'[23] listed 231
independent labels, including both the larger and the
smaller ones, the specialist labels catering to
specific tastes such as rock'n'roll and reggae as well
as the newer labels inspired by punk.  But it was this
last category that caused the huge jump to over 800
labels by 1980,[24] although that figure had settled
back down to a still high 322 by 1981.[25]  It is the
records from among this category, closely following
the approach promoted by the Desperate Bicycles, that
are the most interesting from an anarchist
perspective.  I want to look more closely at this
approach as an example of anarchism in practice.
 
 
Rock contradictions: politics, autonomy and
authenticity
 
            My own perception of the development of
‘do-it-yourself’ (DIY) records centres around a few
key players.  First and foremost of these was Rough
Trade, founded as a record shop in 1976, before
expanding into distribution of independent records and
setting up its own label in early 1978.  Rough Trade
was renowned as the most radical of the small labels -
it was run as a workers' co-op, paying all shop and
office workers equally.  The rock commentator Greil
Marcus pointed out in 1980 that the label was
wondering how to bring musicians into this structure
as well:  'as yet no one has figured out how to put
musicians on that sort of payroll - something that had
to be done soon, the Raincoats said with no little
vehemence'.[26]
            Nevertheless, Rough Trade was unique in
even questioning the contradictory place of musicians
in the recordindustry.  This contradiction centres
around the fact that the relations of production here,
as in the culture industries more broadly,[27] are far
more complex than elsewhere.  The personnel of the
music industry cannot be described straightforwardly
as comprising simply the owners of capital plus the
sellers of labour.  In between record company
management and the workforce on a pressing plant floor
are the 'artists', people who are contracted to
produce intellectual goods for record manufacturers
and publishing houses, but who don't receive a wage. 
Rather, they receive an advance against future
royalties, which must pay for musical equipment,
recording costs and living expenses, and often for
promotional activities too, such as touring expenses
(not to mention drugs).  If the artist's royalties
don't match the value of the advance, they in effect
owe the record company money;  in any case, they only
begin to earn money on record sales once their
royalties have 'paid back' the advance.[28]  As Frith
shows,[29] the history of the music industry is marked
by continual conflicts between record companies and
artists over this relationship, notably concerning the
question of artistic control, and this raises an issue
that has strong resonances with the ethos of punk -
the autonomy of musicians to control their own
output. 

This is also an issue close to anarchist concerns, and
it raises further questions around anarchism and
technology in relation to music.  Debates from the
1920s and 1930s among members of the Frankfurt School
of 'critical theory'[30] seem highly pertinent in this
respect, especially those  between Walter Benjamin and
Theodore Adorno.  Influenced by the playwright Bertolt
Brecht, Benjamin broke away from the elite ‘high
culture’ perspective of Adorno, his mentor in the
Frankfurt School, who watched the rise of that era's
popular music with despair.  In contrast, Benjamin
embraced the emergence of popular culture, in
particular the shift brought about by new technology
from a world of unique works of ‘auratic’ art to one
where mechanical reproduction made copies of a work
available to all.  For Benjamin this opened up the
possibility of art becoming ‘a vehicle of mass
political communication’,[31] and it contrasted with
the aestheticisation of politics that he saw happening
under fascism.  For Benjamin it was crucial that
‘[c]ommunism responds by politicizing art’.[32]
            Rock music’s place in these debates around
high and mass culture is contradictory, as Frith
shows.[33]  Rock musicians tend to claim the
‘authenticity’ that’s integral to high art, yet work
within a mass culture medium.  In many ways punk
extended this contradiction, even though its claim to
authenticity was pointed in a different direction to
the one it aimed to supersede:  it replaced the
authentic artist with the authentic ‘punk’.  In terms
of technology, punk’s authenticity was also tied to a
rejection of the growing sophistication of equipment
used in rock.  An authentic punk didn’t need a
16-track studio or a thousand pound synthesiser to
make the music of the streets.  The access aesthetic
aimed to break down that ‘high art’ elitist side of
rock, with the emphasis on basic instruments - guitar,
bass and drums - and recording equipment.
            The small labels I’ve been discussing took
this side of punk further, rejecting the
sophistication of the whole industry ‘package’ as well
as the sophistication of the equipment.  By setting up
an independent distribution network, labels like Rough
Trade aimed to show that the glossy marketing-led
approach of the major labels (with record packaging
exemplified by  the mid-70s records of Pink Floyd, Yes
and Led Zeppelin, and promotion that relied on record
pluggers to woo radio stations and retailers) was
unnecessary.  With the support of a network of
like-minded record shops, airplay from John Peel and
coverage in the weekly music press and fanzines, it
was possible to release a record with little capital,
recorded cheaply by ordinary people.  In this way the
artistic control of musicians over their music was
preserved (albeit at the expense of wider sales).
            As a key promoter of this approach, Rough
Trade became known, at the end of the 1970s and during
the early 1980s, as an organisation that supported
bands wanting to maintain this kind of autonomy
outside the mainstream record industry.  If a band had
released their own record, Rough Trade would probably
help get it distributed.  The company frequently made
deals with bands to release subsequent records (for
example Swell Maps, following their first record on
Rather Records, or Stiff Little Fingers, following
their debut on Rigid Digits).  They also developed an
approach to contracts that avoided exploitation of the
kind experienced elsewhere in the industry.  Contracts
were signed on a record by record basis rather than
tying bands to a commitment based on either time or
output, whilst all profits were divided 50/50 between
the label and the band.
            A crucial element of the independent scene
at this time, then, was a concern to radically
transform the relations of production:  in particular,
the relations between musicians and record companies,
but also involving distributors, publishers, retailers
and promoters.  This fed back into the concern
expressed in the access aesthetic to challenge the
relation between producers (artists) and consumers
(audience), a common theme in rock ideology.[34]  It
also exemplified Benjamin’s argument about mechanical
reproduction providing a means of politicising art. 
Taking control of the means of production provided a
platform for political expression - Crass are the
obvious example of this, but others also existed, such
as the anti-racist label People Unite, set up by
reggae band Misty in Roots.
            For many independent record makers,
though, controlling their own output was a political
end in itself, even if their music wasn’t overtly
political.  In that sense, independent record
production was intrinsically anarchistic in its
approach to authority and control, whilst its approach
to technology was close to Mumford’s notion of
democratic technics - people-centred, relatively weak
but resourceful.  In contrast, the major record
companies operate more in line with authoritarian
technics: whilst immensely powerful, they have
repeatedly showed their inherent instability in the
face of crises such as the oil shortages and falling
record sales in the 1970s, or in the face of the punk
explosion that followed.  To counter such threats, the
industry has had to develop predatory business
strategies such as the horizontal integration of
investment in the wider entertainments industry, and
ruthless exploitation of innovations, both musical
(eg. punk itself) and technological (most notably with
compact discs).
 
 
Independents, majors, and the DIY ethic
 
            Given this wider industrial context, the
more radical of the independent labels were constantly
battling againstmore mainstream interests, which often
included other small labels and punk bands.  As I
mentioned above, the main objective of many bands was
simply to get a record deal, no matter which company
it was with, and several labels actively encouraged
this, such as Fast.  It has been argued that Rough
Trade's record-by-record approach in fact made it
vulnerable to being used as a stepping stone to the
bigger labels.  There was no contractual obligation to
prevent Stiff Little Fingers from signing to
Chrysalis, despite their chart success on Rough Trade
(with the album 'Inflammable Material' in 1979), and
the smaller label was thus deprived of the chance to
benefit further from the band's success, which it had
helped nurture.  A commitment to autonomy can thus
sometimes undermine itself.
            These points are highlighted by the
activities of another key figure in this scene who
I’ve already mentioned, Mark Perry of Sniffin' Glue
fanzine.  As well as producing Sniffin’ Glue, Perry
also fronted a band, Alternative TV, and was involved
as A&R man (i.e. talent scout) for the Step Forward
label.  Perry was an important advocate of the DIY
ethic, haranguing his readers and then his audience to
get actively involved rather than remain just
consumers.  In 1977 he handed the fanzine over to
Danny Baker (later of TV chat shows, washing powder
advertisements and daytime pop radio) so he could
concentrate more on his music.  He was never satisfied
with this, though, and deliberately challenged his
mainstream punk following by producing more
experimental music, both with ATV and subsequent
bands.
            Perry's support of independent record
labels had a number of elements.  At one level, there
was a pragmatic sense that joining the rock'n'roll
treadmill of signing with a major label was not good
for a band's music.  Perry has been famously quoted as
saying that punk died when the Clash signed to CBS
early in 1977:

(for the rest go to
http://www.york.ac.uk/org/satsu/OnLinePapers/PR/mus-tech/mus-tech.htm
)

 
 


===="“Marx says, revolutions are the locomotives of world history.  But perhaps it is really totally different.  Perhaps revolutions are the grasp by the human race traveling in this train for the emergency brake.” 

- Walter Benjamin

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