The Bucky Walters Band from Arcata played Friday night at Mamma Llama. Live music has returned to Mamma Llama Coffeehouse in Weaverville.
Last Friday the Bucky Walters Band from Arcata took the stage. "It feels great to have the music back," said Steve Friedman, who owns Mamma Llama with his wife, Donna.
The coffeehouse was quiet for several months as the Friedmans sought answers to a dilemma shared with small music venues across the country.
The couple had worked hard to get Mamma Llama's name out, Steve Friedman said—on the Internet, in publications and on radio. "I guess by doing this it put us in the spotlight," he said.
The trouble started in 2007 with e-mails, letters and calls from the American Society of Composers, Authors and Publishers (ASCAP). ASCAP is one of three performing arts organizations in the United States that grant licensees the right to publicly perform the works of their members. Without these licenses, the organizations say, businesses can run afoul of federal copyright law.
The price for an ASCAP license was $800 a year, but the Friedmans doubted the legitimacy of the organization and continued to bring in bands while considering what to do. Then ASCAP sent a researcher to a show by a local band at Mamma Llama, and the band played another musician's song.
"They told us if we didn't get a license, they would take us to court," Steve Friedman said. "So we bought it."
What followed, Friedman said, was a barrage of e-mails, letters and calls from the other two organizations, Broadcast Music Inc. (BMI) and SESAC Inc. Even though he told them he was not playing their music, they were in "attack mode," Friedman said, "very threatening over the phone."
In 2008, the cost of ASCAP license dropped to $350 for smaller venues. BMI and SESAC wanted a similar amount, Friedman said.
Eventually, he said, Donna Friedman threatened to file harassment charges against BMI, and those calls stopped. But SESAC, which represents fewer musicians than the other two organizzations, continued. "Over the phone one of the guys told me they were going to sue us," Friedman said.
Written messages did not go that far, but they did include links to court cases SESAC had won. An e-mail from SESAC stated that penalties for copyright infringements range from $750 to $150,000 per single performance.
"When they threatened to sue I canceled all the music we had," Friedman said.
He let the ASCAP license lapse and e-mailed 19 bands he had booked to explain the situation. The response, even by musicians represented by one of the three entities, was supportive. One was outraged, Friedman said. "She couldn't believe the place she licensed with was cutting her throat."
Articles on the situation at Mamma Llama and other establishments in similar situations
ran in the Christian Science Monitor and USA Today
recently.
A SESAC official did not return a call from the Journal for comment. However, BMI spokesman Jerry Bailey did, and he sees things differently than Friedman.
If BMI has not sent a researcher to an establishment, he said, the calls and letters are "educational."
"We don't threaten anyone unless we know they're playing BMI music for certain," Bailey said, and even then "it's not really a threat, but then they're told what legal action is possible."
He said BMI has not contacted Mamma Llama since July 2007.
Bailey acknowledged that not everyone needs a music license, but said that in most cases when a business says its performers are only playing original music and a researcher is sent, they find that BMI music is being played.
The Friedmans think they can manage. In December they began featuring live music again with the Monsters of Shamisen, after Friedman was assured their Japanese, Celtic and bluegrass music would include no copyrighted material.
Friedman said he finally did get some frank information from an ASCAP representative, and there is a way to have live music without a license.
"I'm not going to have bands play here if they're playing other people's music," he said. "It has to be their own original music," and if they're under the umbrella of an agency, there needs to be a letter from the producer giving up royalties.
Friedman said he will comply with that, although it hurts upand coming bands and denies them the stepping stone many established bands did have.
If a band plays a song by Bob Dylan (signed with SESAC) at a small coffeehouse, "Isn't it more of an honor than a threat?" he asked.
Bailey agreed that a bigname artist whose music is played in a small coffeehouse "probably doesn't know or care."
However, he said, if that performer contracted with BMI to ensure they're getting all the revenues they're entitled to, "it's our commitment," he said. Also, he said, often there is a little-known songwriter behind the star who should get royalties.
Friedman also questioned the percentage of the license cost that goes to the smaller performers as royalties. Bailey said that at BMI, distribution is based on use that can be tracked, including television, radio and international royalties from music played overseas. Music played at coffeehouses, for example, cannot be tracked and is not figured into the royalties.
Friedman thinks the contacts with businesses should have been handled much differently, particularly by BMI and SESAC. Although he has not heard from them for some time, he said, "I know it will start up again."
"I want them to stop scaring people," Friedman said. "Be truthful and tell how you can do without a license."
Furthermore, he said, pricing consideration should be given by all three groups to venues in rural areas, which have a harder time filling the house. "Usually I'm breaking even and I'm totally happy with that," Friedman said. "I enjoy it."
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
The Sound of Silence
When you walk into One Love Café on Main Street you’re greeted by the tangy aroma of Jamaican Jerk Chicken, vibrant paintings on the walls and a kind word from owner Venice Fouchard.
What you aren’t greeted with is music.
“It’s become a joke here now,” says Fouchard. “My regulars will come in and ask ‘Venice, why no music?’ and I just say ‘ASCAP.’”
One Love Café has stopped live music performances.ASCAP — the American Society of Composers, Authors and Publishers — is one of several music-licensing giants controlling the rights to much of the popular music you hear everyday. Since she opened her restaurant seven years ago, Fouchard says ASCAP and BMI (Broadcast Music, Inc.) have “harassed” her on a regular basis about paying them licensing fees.
“They are really belligerent on the phone and they call constantly,” she says. “I also believe that they call sometimes and don’t say anything, just trying to listen to see if I am playing any music in the background.”
ASCAP and BMI, which licenses about half the music played in America today, and SESAC (the Society of European Stage Authors & Composers) monitor establishments that play music, whether they are hole-in-the-wall cafés with someone sitting on a stool strumming a guitar, or large bars and restaurants with full-blown music scenes. The companies are responsible for making sure that any place playing licensed music pays a fee, ensuring that the proper royalties are paid to musicians and composers for the public performance of their music.
“It really gets to the point where all these people want is a contract from you, because no matter how you flip the script they have an answer for you,” says Fouchard.
One Love used to have live musical performances sporadically throughout the year, with musicians playing original music.
“That was the first thing I’d tell an artist when they stopped in and asked if they could perform here,” she says. “‘You can’t play any covers.’ And they are usually happy about not doing cover songs.”
Now, Fouchard says, the hassling from ASCAP and BMI became too much for her, and she decided to stop hosting live acts.
“I think it was finally last year when I said ‘I’m so tired, I’m so drained,’ and I wrote back to [ASCAP and BMI] saying that I don’t play live music here anymore. And then I had to tell my customers that we wouldn’t be having live music at the café.”
Paying licensing fees is something that all public establishments must deal with if they are going to play music. But in Worcester, several local business owners assert that these companies are aggressive to the point of harassment.
ASCAP and BMI insist they are just doing their job to protect the interests of the artists they represent.
“We will continue to call if they continue to play music [without a license],” says Vincent Candilora, Senior Vice President of Licensing for ASCAP. “We have an obligation to the members of ASCAP, which is the only organization run solely by songwriters, producers, musicians and publishers.”
Asked why ASCAP would tell an establishment it cannot play original live music, as Fouchard insists she was told, Candilora responds that there is no reason such a demand would be made.
“I’d like to know specifically who told them that they could not play original music, because they can,” he says. “These places say that they play only original live music, but what do you play in between sets? During breaks? Before the live acts go on? To be honest, we’ve been doing this for many years and there are very few establishments that just play original music.”
Assertions of “original only” music are rarely based in fact, company representatives say.
“Most venue owners and managers don’t know about the songwriters who own the songs played in their establishments,” says Jerry Bailey, Senior Director of Media Relations and Business Communications for BMI. “They simply assume that a performer in their venue is playing ‘original’ tunes because that may be the instruction given the performer. That defense has not held up in court.”
*****
The owner of Acoustic Java says he's had multiple go-arounds with BMI, and sticks to live original music.Stephanie Katz, who played guitar and sang indie/folk tunes at One Love Café every other Sunday for more than a year, counters that the place upheld the original-music pledge. Katz says that when she performed she often brought in other local and regional musicians who, like her, played their own compositions because she knew that Fouchard was not licensed.
“In some ways this made it an even better venue, because it’s all original material and it is all small artists, so you know you’re going to get something different,” says Katz. “But I just came home from being away for a few months, and Venice told me she’s not hosting music anymore because she can’t handle the stress of being harassed by BMI. I definitely understand why she made the decision, but it’s a big loss for local musicians and music appreciators.”
David Fullerton, owner of Acoustic Java in Worcester, describes his interactions with BMI representatives as frequent and “nasty.”
“Some of them were extremely rude and extremely aggressive, and occasionally insulting,” he says. “When I bought the café in 2007, the previous owners told me about BMI and how they were being harassed by them; it was kind of a cautionary tale. [The original owners] told me that they had an open mic night and somebody had come into the café wearing a trench coat. He sat in on the performance and heard a song that was a cover that BMI owned the rights to. That man in the trench coat was a BMI rep and told the owners that they had to buy a license or BMI would prosecute them. So they stopped the open mic nights.”
Fullerton received a call from BMI within the first week of taking over the business. The calls continued … and continued.
“They would explain to me that they had an account with us, or they’d have some other reason to call, but I would tell them I had no information about it and that they would have to contact the original owners,” he says. “But they would keep calling and asking me questions. I essentially got in the habit of hanging up on them because they wouldn’t let us get off the phone.”
After doing some research about BMI, Fullerton says he understands that the licensing organizations are designed to help musicians, but “it doesn’t always work out that way in practice. In theory, they do protect the rights of people who play music for a living and it seemed like not a thing to really rail against but to accept. So I either had to buy a license or not play live music.”
Fullerton decided to call BMI and ask them to cease the relentless phone calling.
“[The manager I spoke with] was somewhat apologetic and he said he would make sure I wouldn’t receive further calls. I told him we don’t play any music under their copyright, but he told me it doesn’t matter and that I still had to buy a license. The manager said it’s complicated because sometimes it’s not always clear what songs someone’s playing. I said ‘Well let’s just say that it is clear, and they are only playing original music or something they’ve written.’ After 30 minutes on the phone he finally admitted, ‘Well if there really is no copyright you really don’t have to buy a license.’”
So Fullerton now has live performances at Acoustic Java with musicians who only play original music. It was a struggle to reach this point, he says.
“My business has been affected. We play live original music, but that’s it. The attendance is extremely low usually. It’s just easier to attract a larger crowd if you can play anything. It didn’t make sense for me to pay the licensing fees, which are in excess of $1,200 [if fees are paid to all three companies, ASCAP, BMI and SESAC]. And I don’t really generate that much in a year off of open mic nights, at least not in a café like mine.”
*****
Lucky Dog owner Erick Godin questions how the licensing companies fi gure their fee structures.Candilora of ASCAP says licensing fees are generally tied to the size of the establishment.
“We use the fire code of each establishment, their max occupancy, and we work off of that,” he says. “For example, if you were only playing CDs at your café, it would be $3 times your occupancy, and that would be your rate for the year. So if your occupancy was 100 it would be $300 a year. That’s less than a dollar a day. If you play live music less than three nights a week, that is $4.30 times your capacity. And if you do both we offer a 33 percent discount on your recorded music fee. It’s all pretty logical.”
But for small businesses like One Love Café, the fees can be too much.
“There are some places where it’s feasible [to pay] and then there are some places where it’s not,” says Fouchard. “And I think that those places that are feasible will go right ahead and sign their contract and pay the fees. It’s not worth doing it for us.”
For Farid Aude, owner of the Sahara Café and Restaurant in Worcester, paying the licensing fees is doable, though a nuisance.
“Obviously nobody likes to pay fees,” he says. “I can afford it, but I don’t think it makes much sense to be paying as much as we do. But it’s the law.”
Aude says that if he added up the fees he has to pay to ASCAP, BMI and SESAC the total is close to $2,000 a year.
“We’ve been open for 15 years, but I didn’t get a license until about five years ago,” he says. “I always ignored their requests because we were playing primarily ethnic music and I thought that I didn’t fit into that category. But they kept insisting and I felt I had to protect myself.”
Besides paying a fee for playing live covers, establishments are also charged for playing any CDs or public radio.
“You can play XM Satellite radio,” says Fullerton, “because satellite radio pays these companies to play the music.”
It’s not only small cafes that have issues with the fees. Some larger venues are also struggling to make payments.
“The way that they formulate [the fee] is too general,” says Erick Godin, owner of the Lucky Dog Music Hall. “They figure your capacity times the number of nights you are open, but if I only have 10 people in our place all night, I’m still paying for 230. I think they need to be a bit more responsible and work with each venue on a monthly basis, like taxes — whatever you sell you get charged for that. If they want to get money for their artists, they should have to do a bit more than sit behind a desk and make phone calls.”
Godin has been on a payment plan with the licensing companies for years, and although he says he’s not particularly frustrated with ASCAP, BMI or SESAC, he does understand why some business owners can be caught off guard.
“Most people that start a business have no idea these companies even exist,” he says. “A little fear of a court case or collection agencies really wakes up a business owner. I knew about it before I started so they weren’t aggressive with us until I let my payments fall off for a while, and now I get threatening phone calls and more letters in the mail. For the most part, I don’t feel like they are too aggressive. As much as I disagree with it, they are all still trying to get paid, just like everybody else. They just have a huge armada of lawyers and decades of triumph behind them.”
ASCAP regularly dispatches employees to ferret out establishments that may be playing licensed music without paying a fee.
“These licensing managers work out of their cars and their homes,” says Candilora. “They are all over the place. They subscribe to local newspapers and arts rags. It’s the same way you would pursue any sales lead.”
Candilora notes there are licensing managers throughout the region who stay on top of any new business that opens, and to find them they look where the alcohol is being served.
“We have a number of sources we use. When bars open or they change hands, we will look at the Alcohol and Beverage Association for each state. Where there’s beer and wine, there’s usually music.”
Corey Graves plucks the strings at One Love, but only for a Worcester Mag cover shoot. Otherwise, live music is no longer allowed.It’s still a touchy subject, however, when it comes to the way the companies approach businesses to collect their fees.
“I don’t think they believe Venice that she’s not playing licensed music,” says Katz, “and even if they do, I think it pisses them off that some little independent restaurant owner has a legitimate way to get out of paying them their fees. BMI is this huge multi-million dollar corporation that is used to bullying around pretty much everyone, and here’s this little immigrant woman from Jamaica not paying up, and it challenges their position of power.”
*****
For BMI and ASCAP, it’s all about doing what’s fair and what’s right.
“If you had a bar and you got a license to play music, and you see a bar across the street that did not pay for a license but still plays music anyway, don’t you think that’s a little unfair,” says Candilora. “Doesn’t it give them an advantage? That’s the reason why we don’t go away.”
At BMI, the protests largely fall on deaf ears.
“We usually don’t have much use for the term ‘original music,’ because we represent about 6.5 million ‘original’ compositions owned by about 400,000 songwriters, composers and music publishers,” says Bailey. “BMI does not own the music, and the company does not earn profits. All revenue received, after expenses, is paid out to the songwriters, composers and publishers who sign with BMI to represent them. BMI does not represent record companies or recording artists, unless those artists compose music. Our focus is on helping songwriters receive payment when their songs are played in public.”
Fouchard says she misses the sound of live music in her café.
“It’s very frustrating because it used to be so warm in here on Sunday, when I had singers here like Stephanie. She’s funky and original; she plays a musical saw. And I tell these BMI and ASCAP reps to come and listen to a musician like this and then tell me how you have this in your ‘repertoire.’ It really broke my heart when I realized I couldn’t do it anymore. We used to have a ball.”
What you aren’t greeted with is music.
“It’s become a joke here now,” says Fouchard. “My regulars will come in and ask ‘Venice, why no music?’ and I just say ‘ASCAP.’”
One Love Café has stopped live music performances.ASCAP — the American Society of Composers, Authors and Publishers — is one of several music-licensing giants controlling the rights to much of the popular music you hear everyday. Since she opened her restaurant seven years ago, Fouchard says ASCAP and BMI (Broadcast Music, Inc.) have “harassed” her on a regular basis about paying them licensing fees.
“They are really belligerent on the phone and they call constantly,” she says. “I also believe that they call sometimes and don’t say anything, just trying to listen to see if I am playing any music in the background.”
ASCAP and BMI, which licenses about half the music played in America today, and SESAC (the Society of European Stage Authors & Composers) monitor establishments that play music, whether they are hole-in-the-wall cafés with someone sitting on a stool strumming a guitar, or large bars and restaurants with full-blown music scenes. The companies are responsible for making sure that any place playing licensed music pays a fee, ensuring that the proper royalties are paid to musicians and composers for the public performance of their music.
“It really gets to the point where all these people want is a contract from you, because no matter how you flip the script they have an answer for you,” says Fouchard.
One Love used to have live musical performances sporadically throughout the year, with musicians playing original music.
“That was the first thing I’d tell an artist when they stopped in and asked if they could perform here,” she says. “‘You can’t play any covers.’ And they are usually happy about not doing cover songs.”
Now, Fouchard says, the hassling from ASCAP and BMI became too much for her, and she decided to stop hosting live acts.
“I think it was finally last year when I said ‘I’m so tired, I’m so drained,’ and I wrote back to [ASCAP and BMI] saying that I don’t play live music here anymore. And then I had to tell my customers that we wouldn’t be having live music at the café.”
Paying licensing fees is something that all public establishments must deal with if they are going to play music. But in Worcester, several local business owners assert that these companies are aggressive to the point of harassment.
ASCAP and BMI insist they are just doing their job to protect the interests of the artists they represent.
“We will continue to call if they continue to play music [without a license],” says Vincent Candilora, Senior Vice President of Licensing for ASCAP. “We have an obligation to the members of ASCAP, which is the only organization run solely by songwriters, producers, musicians and publishers.”
Asked why ASCAP would tell an establishment it cannot play original live music, as Fouchard insists she was told, Candilora responds that there is no reason such a demand would be made.
“I’d like to know specifically who told them that they could not play original music, because they can,” he says. “These places say that they play only original live music, but what do you play in between sets? During breaks? Before the live acts go on? To be honest, we’ve been doing this for many years and there are very few establishments that just play original music.”
Assertions of “original only” music are rarely based in fact, company representatives say.
“Most venue owners and managers don’t know about the songwriters who own the songs played in their establishments,” says Jerry Bailey, Senior Director of Media Relations and Business Communications for BMI. “They simply assume that a performer in their venue is playing ‘original’ tunes because that may be the instruction given the performer. That defense has not held up in court.”
*****
The owner of Acoustic Java says he's had multiple go-arounds with BMI, and sticks to live original music.Stephanie Katz, who played guitar and sang indie/folk tunes at One Love Café every other Sunday for more than a year, counters that the place upheld the original-music pledge. Katz says that when she performed she often brought in other local and regional musicians who, like her, played their own compositions because she knew that Fouchard was not licensed.
“In some ways this made it an even better venue, because it’s all original material and it is all small artists, so you know you’re going to get something different,” says Katz. “But I just came home from being away for a few months, and Venice told me she’s not hosting music anymore because she can’t handle the stress of being harassed by BMI. I definitely understand why she made the decision, but it’s a big loss for local musicians and music appreciators.”
David Fullerton, owner of Acoustic Java in Worcester, describes his interactions with BMI representatives as frequent and “nasty.”
“Some of them were extremely rude and extremely aggressive, and occasionally insulting,” he says. “When I bought the café in 2007, the previous owners told me about BMI and how they were being harassed by them; it was kind of a cautionary tale. [The original owners] told me that they had an open mic night and somebody had come into the café wearing a trench coat. He sat in on the performance and heard a song that was a cover that BMI owned the rights to. That man in the trench coat was a BMI rep and told the owners that they had to buy a license or BMI would prosecute them. So they stopped the open mic nights.”
Fullerton received a call from BMI within the first week of taking over the business. The calls continued … and continued.
“They would explain to me that they had an account with us, or they’d have some other reason to call, but I would tell them I had no information about it and that they would have to contact the original owners,” he says. “But they would keep calling and asking me questions. I essentially got in the habit of hanging up on them because they wouldn’t let us get off the phone.”
After doing some research about BMI, Fullerton says he understands that the licensing organizations are designed to help musicians, but “it doesn’t always work out that way in practice. In theory, they do protect the rights of people who play music for a living and it seemed like not a thing to really rail against but to accept. So I either had to buy a license or not play live music.”
Fullerton decided to call BMI and ask them to cease the relentless phone calling.
“[The manager I spoke with] was somewhat apologetic and he said he would make sure I wouldn’t receive further calls. I told him we don’t play any music under their copyright, but he told me it doesn’t matter and that I still had to buy a license. The manager said it’s complicated because sometimes it’s not always clear what songs someone’s playing. I said ‘Well let’s just say that it is clear, and they are only playing original music or something they’ve written.’ After 30 minutes on the phone he finally admitted, ‘Well if there really is no copyright you really don’t have to buy a license.’”
So Fullerton now has live performances at Acoustic Java with musicians who only play original music. It was a struggle to reach this point, he says.
“My business has been affected. We play live original music, but that’s it. The attendance is extremely low usually. It’s just easier to attract a larger crowd if you can play anything. It didn’t make sense for me to pay the licensing fees, which are in excess of $1,200 [if fees are paid to all three companies, ASCAP, BMI and SESAC]. And I don’t really generate that much in a year off of open mic nights, at least not in a café like mine.”
*****
Lucky Dog owner Erick Godin questions how the licensing companies fi gure their fee structures.Candilora of ASCAP says licensing fees are generally tied to the size of the establishment.
“We use the fire code of each establishment, their max occupancy, and we work off of that,” he says. “For example, if you were only playing CDs at your café, it would be $3 times your occupancy, and that would be your rate for the year. So if your occupancy was 100 it would be $300 a year. That’s less than a dollar a day. If you play live music less than three nights a week, that is $4.30 times your capacity. And if you do both we offer a 33 percent discount on your recorded music fee. It’s all pretty logical.”
But for small businesses like One Love Café, the fees can be too much.
“There are some places where it’s feasible [to pay] and then there are some places where it’s not,” says Fouchard. “And I think that those places that are feasible will go right ahead and sign their contract and pay the fees. It’s not worth doing it for us.”
For Farid Aude, owner of the Sahara Café and Restaurant in Worcester, paying the licensing fees is doable, though a nuisance.
“Obviously nobody likes to pay fees,” he says. “I can afford it, but I don’t think it makes much sense to be paying as much as we do. But it’s the law.”
Aude says that if he added up the fees he has to pay to ASCAP, BMI and SESAC the total is close to $2,000 a year.
“We’ve been open for 15 years, but I didn’t get a license until about five years ago,” he says. “I always ignored their requests because we were playing primarily ethnic music and I thought that I didn’t fit into that category. But they kept insisting and I felt I had to protect myself.”
Besides paying a fee for playing live covers, establishments are also charged for playing any CDs or public radio.
“You can play XM Satellite radio,” says Fullerton, “because satellite radio pays these companies to play the music.”
It’s not only small cafes that have issues with the fees. Some larger venues are also struggling to make payments.
“The way that they formulate [the fee] is too general,” says Erick Godin, owner of the Lucky Dog Music Hall. “They figure your capacity times the number of nights you are open, but if I only have 10 people in our place all night, I’m still paying for 230. I think they need to be a bit more responsible and work with each venue on a monthly basis, like taxes — whatever you sell you get charged for that. If they want to get money for their artists, they should have to do a bit more than sit behind a desk and make phone calls.”
Godin has been on a payment plan with the licensing companies for years, and although he says he’s not particularly frustrated with ASCAP, BMI or SESAC, he does understand why some business owners can be caught off guard.
“Most people that start a business have no idea these companies even exist,” he says. “A little fear of a court case or collection agencies really wakes up a business owner. I knew about it before I started so they weren’t aggressive with us until I let my payments fall off for a while, and now I get threatening phone calls and more letters in the mail. For the most part, I don’t feel like they are too aggressive. As much as I disagree with it, they are all still trying to get paid, just like everybody else. They just have a huge armada of lawyers and decades of triumph behind them.”
ASCAP regularly dispatches employees to ferret out establishments that may be playing licensed music without paying a fee.
“These licensing managers work out of their cars and their homes,” says Candilora. “They are all over the place. They subscribe to local newspapers and arts rags. It’s the same way you would pursue any sales lead.”
Candilora notes there are licensing managers throughout the region who stay on top of any new business that opens, and to find them they look where the alcohol is being served.
“We have a number of sources we use. When bars open or they change hands, we will look at the Alcohol and Beverage Association for each state. Where there’s beer and wine, there’s usually music.”
Corey Graves plucks the strings at One Love, but only for a Worcester Mag cover shoot. Otherwise, live music is no longer allowed.It’s still a touchy subject, however, when it comes to the way the companies approach businesses to collect their fees.
“I don’t think they believe Venice that she’s not playing licensed music,” says Katz, “and even if they do, I think it pisses them off that some little independent restaurant owner has a legitimate way to get out of paying them their fees. BMI is this huge multi-million dollar corporation that is used to bullying around pretty much everyone, and here’s this little immigrant woman from Jamaica not paying up, and it challenges their position of power.”
*****
For BMI and ASCAP, it’s all about doing what’s fair and what’s right.
“If you had a bar and you got a license to play music, and you see a bar across the street that did not pay for a license but still plays music anyway, don’t you think that’s a little unfair,” says Candilora. “Doesn’t it give them an advantage? That’s the reason why we don’t go away.”
At BMI, the protests largely fall on deaf ears.
“We usually don’t have much use for the term ‘original music,’ because we represent about 6.5 million ‘original’ compositions owned by about 400,000 songwriters, composers and music publishers,” says Bailey. “BMI does not own the music, and the company does not earn profits. All revenue received, after expenses, is paid out to the songwriters, composers and publishers who sign with BMI to represent them. BMI does not represent record companies or recording artists, unless those artists compose music. Our focus is on helping songwriters receive payment when their songs are played in public.”
Fouchard says she misses the sound of live music in her café.
“It’s very frustrating because it used to be so warm in here on Sunday, when I had singers here like Stephanie. She’s funky and original; she plays a musical saw. And I tell these BMI and ASCAP reps to come and listen to a musician like this and then tell me how you have this in your ‘repertoire.’ It really broke my heart when I realized I couldn’t do it anymore. We used to have a ball.”
BMI Unfair to Musicians
The threatening letters started arriving in early 2009, a few months after Jim Whitney opened J Dubs Coffee, a tiny storefront coffee shop in a Manchester, N.H., strip mall. Fifteen came over a few months, right around the time Anthony Demings, owner of the Brooklyn Coffee and Tea House in Providence, was receiving his own string of letters, and Lorraine Carboni, proprietor of Somethin’s Brewin’ Book Cafe in Lakeville, began getting calls and then lunch hour visits from a brusque man.
“I was blown away by his demeanor,’’ Carboni said. “He was rude to my staff. He was adamant about getting information. They were threatening me with lawsuits. So I did what I had to do, and ended my music program.’’
Across New England, church coffeehouses, library cafes, and eateries that pass the hat to pay local musicians or open their doors to casual jam sessions are experiencing a crackdown by performance rights organizations, or PROs, which collect royalties for songwriters.
Copyright law requires that any venue where music is performed publicly, from cheerleading competitions and mortuaries to nightclubs and stadiums, have a performance license. Recorded music is subject to license fees as well. The three US-based PROs — ASCAP, BMI, and SESAC — collect the fees and distribute them to their members.
With the music industry in steep decline, PROs are ramping up their pursuit of the little guys, who acknowledge that songwriters are entitled to compensation but are angry and frustrated at what they see as unfair targeting of small businesses and nonprofits that make no money from the music they present.
Among them is Magret Gudmundsson, who until recently hosted a monthly acoustic open mike in her Middleborough cafe, Coffee Milano. “I like having it here, but we’re not making any money from it and they wanted $332 a year,’’ Gudmundsson said. “The town really needs something like this. They ruined it.’’
Performance license fees are calculated based on a variety of factors: a venue size and seating capacity, the number of musicians who perform there, and the number of live performances per week, among others. The average fee for a small coffeehouse would be $200 to $400. But owners could be required to buy licenses from all three PROs.
The PROs have been criticized for years for their aggressive stance; in the mid-1990s ASCAP bowed to public outcry after attempting to collect licensing fees from the Girl Scouts for singing campfire songs. (They now charge the scouts a symbolic $1 a year.) But Vincent Candilora, ASCAP’s senior vice president for licensing, has no sympathy for Gudmundsson and her ilk.
“They’re selling coffee for four dollars and they can’t afford a dollar a day for music? If they don’t think it’s worth it, that’s their choice,’’ Candilora said. “But I have to say that most people recognize that music is a value to their business. Every now and then we run into people that think, ‘I’m just a small little bar; they’re not going to sue me,’ and that’s a mistake. Frankly, once you’re on our radar we can’t let you go.’’
“I was blown away by his demeanor,’’ Carboni said. “He was rude to my staff. He was adamant about getting information. They were threatening me with lawsuits. So I did what I had to do, and ended my music program.’’
Across New England, church coffeehouses, library cafes, and eateries that pass the hat to pay local musicians or open their doors to casual jam sessions are experiencing a crackdown by performance rights organizations, or PROs, which collect royalties for songwriters.
Copyright law requires that any venue where music is performed publicly, from cheerleading competitions and mortuaries to nightclubs and stadiums, have a performance license. Recorded music is subject to license fees as well. The three US-based PROs — ASCAP, BMI, and SESAC — collect the fees and distribute them to their members.
With the music industry in steep decline, PROs are ramping up their pursuit of the little guys, who acknowledge that songwriters are entitled to compensation but are angry and frustrated at what they see as unfair targeting of small businesses and nonprofits that make no money from the music they present.
Among them is Magret Gudmundsson, who until recently hosted a monthly acoustic open mike in her Middleborough cafe, Coffee Milano. “I like having it here, but we’re not making any money from it and they wanted $332 a year,’’ Gudmundsson said. “The town really needs something like this. They ruined it.’’
Performance license fees are calculated based on a variety of factors: a venue size and seating capacity, the number of musicians who perform there, and the number of live performances per week, among others. The average fee for a small coffeehouse would be $200 to $400. But owners could be required to buy licenses from all three PROs.
The PROs have been criticized for years for their aggressive stance; in the mid-1990s ASCAP bowed to public outcry after attempting to collect licensing fees from the Girl Scouts for singing campfire songs. (They now charge the scouts a symbolic $1 a year.) But Vincent Candilora, ASCAP’s senior vice president for licensing, has no sympathy for Gudmundsson and her ilk.
“They’re selling coffee for four dollars and they can’t afford a dollar a day for music? If they don’t think it’s worth it, that’s their choice,’’ Candilora said. “But I have to say that most people recognize that music is a value to their business. Every now and then we run into people that think, ‘I’m just a small little bar; they’re not going to sue me,’ and that’s a mistake. Frankly, once you’re on our radar we can’t let you go.’’
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