YouTube & its Indie Labels, or, A Long Slide Into Evil

I’ve been covering the deteriorating situation at the once-golden Google and its various products for quite some time.

Now this: Google is set to block Indie label content on YouTube. Over licensing terms for a new service.

Now, as an article by The Guardian points out, this might be a misunderstanding. There are a few options:

One: YouTube is indeed threatening to block the videos of indie labels: if they don’t sign up to the terms of its new paid music service, their videos will be removed from its free service too. Although Vevo-run channels seem likely to stay up.

Two: YouTube will block indie labels from monetisation of their videos on its free service. It’s possible that YouTube will leave labels’ videos up, but block them from making money from ads in and around those videos – as well as from using its Content ID system to make money from ads shown on videos uploaded by YouTube users featuring their music.

Three: This is all just a big misunderstanding. If indie labels choose not to sign up for YouTube’s new paid music service, their videos will be blocked on it, but left alone on the existing free service.

I think it’s probably a misunderstanding, too. As Chris Hubbs said on Twitter, it’s hard to imagine Google giving up its “YouTube is all the videos” platform just to squeeze some indie labels.

But it might, right?

So I expected to hear Google & YouTube put out a strongly worded statement to the contrary. But, to the contrary, this is what they said:

“Our goal is to continue making YouTube an amazing music experience, both as a global platform for fans and artists to connect, and as a revenue source for the music industry. We’re adding subscription-based features for music on YouTube with this in mind — to bring our music partners new revenue streams in addition to the hundreds of millions of dollars YouTube already generates for them each year. We are excited that hundreds of major and independent labels are already partnering with us.”

Now that, my friends, is a absolutely shitty non-response. It’s the sort of thing that makes you think… Oh. Maybe it’s true after all.

Two points. One, Google of today is not the Google of yesterday. And I’m not even talking about whether they used to have ideals but now don’t, blah blah blah. I mean they used to get good press and now they don’t.

Say what you will about Apple, they get a metric shit-tonne of good press, so much so that the bad press is pretty much drowned out. Google doesn’t get that. These days they pretty much just get bad press. This is a pretty fantastic change from a few years ago when Google was the open-source idealistic saviour of the internet.

Two, they should have been out in front of this, offering a plain, frank denial. Even if that denial was a half-truth. Instead some intern was given the task of crafting their message, which was basically “talk about something else”.

We’re not stupid, we can tell when you’re trying to “change the message” or “redirect the conversations” or as we call it, “change the subject”. Especially when done abruptly and awkwardly.

A visit to the walk-in clinic

Today Laura and I took Audrey to the walk-in clinic. She’s running a fever and tends to get ear infections so we took her in just to be safe.

It was a bit of a hassle. We went to our usual walk-in and there was a wait, so we went to the other on across the street where we waited 15 minutes or so. The doctor told us to give her some ibuprofen (done!) and lots of fluids (done!) and sent us on our way. No ear infection, no bad news. We were in and out in a half hour, just presented her health card and away we went.

I had a moment of disorientation leaving the clinic. It seemed wrong somehow that we were leaving without paying. Every other time I leave a place like that I end up paying for something, whether it’s a grocery store or a hardware store, I have to pay.

But here we go leaving the health care store (I like to call it that) and we pay nothing.

I think that’s fantastic.

So when I talk to people about Ontarion’s healthcare system I get all the usual responses. There’s a sort of love-it/hate-it spectrum. I’ll enthusiastically agree with people who love it. I’ll have a conversation with people about what needs fixing–as with every system everywhere, there’s something to fix of course!

If you hate it, well, I don’t like to denigrate opinions, but your opinion sucks. It’s a stupid opinion. I’m not saying you’re stupid. I’m saying you’re wrong. The data on this issue is immensely and frighteningly on the side of socialised health care.

I’ll never say that in person, of course. I’ll say something different. But when I do say something, no matter how nice, I get one of two responses. Either I get the whole politicised diatribe about how (what they think is) socialism is bad, laying bare the ideological clockwork that allows them to believe against their own interest…

Or I get an anecdote. Now if you’ve read this blog for a while, you already know what I think about ideology, or you can probably guess.

But anecdotes. Man… they’re everything that’s wrong with the human condition.

I don’t really care to get into the healthcare debate. As far as I’m concerned it’s not a debate. It’s just a matter of time. I would like to talk about anecdotes, though. This is a bit of an odd direction to take this, but bear with me.

Humans are pattern observers. We look for patters in everything, no matter how insignificant the thing or non-existent the pattern. This means we’re really good at staying alive on the savanna but not terribly good at public policy.

An errant patch of grass moving against the wind is could be a predator. (At least that’s how I imagine staying alive on the savanna might be. I’m not an expert here!) This is only a single data point, but it’s a very important one. It potentially means life or death for you.

Your aunt who had a bad experience in the hospital is a single data point as well but (sadly for her) not an important one. And if we take the anecdote of her experience as a signpost for how we deal with an entire healthcare system full full of people, it means life or death for someone else.

It means life or death for a couple who have a child. The child gets sick, but not very sick, at least not at first. They delay going to the doctor because they can’t really afford to pay the deductible. Or maybe they can afford it but it’s just enough disincentive. The child gets sicker and sicker until when they finally do make the move, it’s too late.

That story is a load of hogwash. I mean, it could have happened, but it didn’t, at least not to me, and not to anyone I know, and probably not to anyone you know either. But to me, it has the same value as an anecdote. You seek out anecdotes to confirm your beliefs, I write a story to confirm mine.

Data doesn’t lie.

You can make it lie. You can make it do all kinds of things, especially when it’s that sort of slim, unsubstantial data that might say any number of things. But you can’t make a preponderance of data lie.

Once you’re confronted with the evidence, you only have ideology to fall back on. Once the anecdote is stripped away, the clockwork of ideology is revealed.

But that’s a post for another day.

April 30 is over

It only took me 3 weeks longer than I wanted. But it’s done. At the beginning of April I committed to write at least something ever day. It went well for a while. But then I got sick. I haven’t been hit that hard for a long time.

I feel a bit like I’m eulogizing myself right now. But don’t worry. I survived. I finished the task. And here, friends, are the links:

  1. “I”
  2. The Story Has Been Told
  3. The Scapegoat, Lifted High
  4. We Forgot The Kettle
  5. Some Advice About Length
  6. Benefit Cheque
  7. Weather
  8. Nothing When It’s Done
  9. A Burn Victim
  10. Clutched Prize
  11. Gold Fillings
  12. Last Year
  13. The Face
  14. Story I
  15. Story II
  16. Story III
  17. Story IV
  18. Jump, Fly
  19. Last Horse
  20. Kenosis
  21. Minimum Wage
  22. The Lamb
  23. North
  24. Inflationary
  25. Senseless Beast
  26. My Liking Precedes Me
  27. Butterflied
  28. The Wine of Now
  29. Viscous Liquid
  30. Sonnet XI

I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I enjoyed writing them.

April 30 @ Elsewhere In Dreams

Just in case you have noticed, I have a new 30 day project going on at Elsewhere In Dreams. I’m going to write a little something there every single day this month. Yes, even on the weekends. I’m not promising it will be good, but I am promising it will happen:

  1. “I”
  2. The Story Has Been Told
  3. The Scapegoat, Lifted High
  4. We Forgot The Kettle

You’re welcome to tag along. Comments are always appreciated. You can also +1 me on Google+ if you’re a masochist.

It takes time

There’s this idea that we’ll get rid of poverty by giving away food and aid. And sure, that’s part of the problem. But poverty isn’t at its root about simply not having enough food. Poverty is about institutions.

Countries with solid institutions have a much better class of poor. Being poor in Canada is very different from being poor in Mali. If we want to try fixing Mali, we need to focus on the stability of that country’s institutions. Rule of law, income equality through redistribution, sensible civil engineering, a non-corrupt police and military force, etc.

The problem is that we can give aid now, but making strong institutions takes time. Take India as an example. They should have a reasonably strong set of institutions thanks to the legacy of the British Empire (we can also say this about the Roman Empire — this isn’t to say that empire is a good thing, just that it can produce good things). But they don’t. Corruption, income inequality, and massive poverty.

It takes time and political will to get there. And in a sense this change has to come from within. Strong institutions simply can’t be imposed without a massive ongoing investment. Look at Iraq. It needs another 50 years of occupation.

This isn’t even a matter of democracy. I’m not even sure democracy makes it better. It might make institution-building worse.

Either way — it takes time.

Here’s a way to talk about privilege

From http://squashed.tumblr.com/post/80205444184/explaining-racism-and-privilege

If I write somebody a letter, it gets taken seriously. The guy opening it shows it to his manager. His manager shows it to her manager. Maybe I still don’t get what I want—but I get treated well and taken seriously. My letters—even the angry ones—are unfailingly polite. I don’t need to be angry to get somebody’s attention. I just need to sign the letter “Attorney at Law.”

Being a white guy has the same relative effect. It takes negligble effort to be treated well and taken seriously.

Ubercompetence & Gaze

I’ve been thinking about TV lately. It’s the defining storytelling medium of our time. At least, I think so. I think we’re going to look back at the early decades of this century as the golden years of TV. For better or for worse.

That’s all been said and done before, though. I want to talk about something different. I want to talk about the kind of heroes and anti-heroes we’re making for ourselves.

I want to talk about Breaking Bad.

Sort of.

Walter White isn’t a hero. So why do we want to watch him? He’s not a good man. He’s at best a decent man who stumbles a bit and then runs swiftly downward.

We watch him because he’s fascinating. And he’s fascinating because he’s in control. His manipulation of his family, his enemies, his friends, his circumstances…

It’s like he’s a little puppet-master. Maybe even a little god. He bends the world to his will.

I call this ubercompetence. And TV is full of ubercompetence. People who are so good at something that anything can be forgiven.

I can forgive Breaking Bad. It has some redeeming qualities, despite its protagonists focused ubercompetence.

But then there’s Suits.

The problem with labeling something like ubercompetence is you can’t stop seeing it. And when you can’t stop seeing it, it starts to get annoying really quick, unless done really well.

Suits does not do it really well.

It doesn’t really do anything really well, actually. It’s every other USA show with a slightly different location. Have you seen White Collar? You’ve seen Suits. The same can-do-no-wrong with a the same smirk.

Week after week these characters win the day through sheer manipulation. Then, at the end of the episode, or if you’re lucky, at the end of the story arc, they smirk off to victory. They’ve turned the tables.

Now there’s nothing fundamentally wrong with watching this show. Or even with enjoying a series centered around the ubercompetent man or (rarely) woman.

The problem is when you start identifying with them.

I have this theory that we become what we behold. Or let me put it a different way, one that’s a little more personal. I become like what I look at. And I mean “look” as in “gaze”. What I fix my eyes on, as it were. I gaze at something because I admire it. So in a sense, I become like what I admire.

Which athlete isn’t inspired by great athletes? Which leader isn’t inspired by great leaders?

But of course reality is at once much stranger and much more prosaic than TV could ever imagine. There are few people who can warp the world to their will. It seems like life enjoys breaking those who try.

All great people eventually fall. They fail or they die or their imperfections are exposed. Which is why we don’t build our empires or our organizations or our families around a person.

So where do we direct our gaze? Who can we admire?

I think you might know the answer.

So if you want to make a movie, I have the beginnings of a script.

So the other day I started thinking about making the most crass possible movie script I could think of. It needed to have every possible Hollywood convention in it, but still be something I’d want to watch (maybe). So here’s what I came up with:

OPEN ON

The chase is on! Several 80′s-style Range Rovers weave down a narrow jungle road. The sound of gunfire. Tires kicking up dust. Reckless speed. The lead rover is driven by a man, beside her a woman desperately shielding a baby with her body.

Bullets whiz by. Glass cracks and shatters.

CUT TO

Monastary grounds. Distant bells. Placid nature. A group on nuns in habits move along a well-groomed path.

CUT TO

A range-rover sunroof pops open and a machine gun wielding thug emerges. He takes sight and opens fire. The lead rover is riddled with holes.

A tire bursts! And the lead rover begins to look like it’s out of control as the tire beings to shred…

CUT TO

A choir in song, voice united, a majestic noise. ZOOM IN slowly, starting to focus on a particular nun, her eyes closed, singing.

CUT TO

The lead rover loses contol! It plunges off the road into the dense underbrush. The rest of the range rovers have to stop and reverse to follow.

But it’s just a ruse — the driver has pulled into a hidden path. He’s having trouble controlling the vehicle. His shredded tire is almost gone. Branches thwack against the side of the rover.

The man stops the rover. He and woman abandon it and continue on foot.

CUT TO

The choir, still in song. We ZOOM IN still slowly until her face fills the shot. Her eyes closed, mouth open in song. She looks to the right. We see 3/4 of her face.

CUT TO

Running — no sight of the persuers — but then BANG, the man almost stumbles. We see the spreading blood of a bullet hole in his back. He stops running. He chokes up blood.

The woman stops running and looks back, terrified.

BANG — a bullet whistles by.

“GO”, the man says. “GO!”

BANG — another bullet misses.

She hesitates and then moves on, running for her life.

BANG – she, too, hesitates. blood blossoms from her chest. She stumbles, falls to her knees, still clutching the baby.

No more bullets. Silence. Her eyes glaze over.

A woman emerges from the bush, a native. Is this pre-arranged? Did she know to find them there?

The woman takes the baby, holds it up against her, its head peeking over her shoulder. They run with preternatural speed through the forest.

As they run we see the baby, eyes closed, mouth open in a infant scream, a line of blood trickling down from a gash on its head.

CUT TO

The nun turns her head, her eyes closed, mouth open in song, and we see it — the scar along the side of her head.

TITLE CARD

BREAKING THE HABIT

* * *

(It’s Batman crossed with The Sister Act.)