Who Needs a Record Label Anyway? Lessons From the Taylor Swift vs. Scooter Braun Feud, a Year Later

 
Graphic by Maryam ElSharkawy

Graphic by Maryam ElSharkawy

Before 2019, I would argue that nobody outside of the music industry knew what a “master” was and why it mattered. However, what is social media good for if not the immediate spread of confusing information to the masses. In June 2019, Taylor Swift, the reigning queen of commercial pop, authored a Tumblr post outlining a dispute with her former label, Big Machine Label Group, and Scooter Braun, the record exec who discovered Justin Bieber (and who, yes, is an adult man who chooses to go by the name “Scooter”...read her full Tumblr post here). 

Braun’s company, Ithaca Holdings LLC, had acquired the master rights to Swift’s first six albums through a sale with Big Machine – a deal which left Swift effectively without control of her own music. In oversimplified terms, a “master recording” is an original recording of an artist’s music (different from a composition). As Sam Sodomsky writing for Pitchfork explains, “The owner of these master rights, along with the copyright owner, controls where the recording itself is licensed and earns money from it.” Sodomsky further notes, “Labels often secure an artist’s master rights in exchange for promotion and support during the recording process. These deals allow the label to release an artist’s music and earn money through its distribution and licensing. They customarily arrange deals in which an artist receives royalties once they recoup the advance given by the label to record their music.” 

As Swift explained in her message, she forfeited the rights to her master when signing with Big Machine in 2005, the label with whom she released her first six albums, from “Taylor Swift” (2006) to “reputation” (2017). When Swift left Big Machine in 2018 to sign with Universal Music Group, Big Machine lost its only major player. And when its entire catalog was sold to Ithaca Holdings, the masters to Taylor Swift’s first six albums went with them.

 If you’ve made it this far, you’re probably wondering why the hell masters matter at all in 2021, and you’d have a fair point. With the traditional infrastructure of the music industry steadily crumbling (record labels and record executives included), it is tricky to understand why. As options for independent artists become increasingly viable, signing with a major label is no longer the obvious choice. For many artists, remaining independent has become the obvious choice. As Chance the Rapper has shown, staying independent and streaming-focused can even earn you a Grammy if you play your cards right. 

It’s a careful balance between control and success: one which all too often arises when assigning a monetary value to creative expression. It seems as though you can’t have it both ways. While I’m sure Taylor Swift has no interest in giving back the estimated $365 million she’s accumulated in net worth, it certainly feels unjust to punish her eternally for a deal she signed when she was fifteen. 

Nevertheless, I simultaneously feel unsympathetic. Taylor Swift is rich. Rich with a capital R, and her particular brand of Tumblr-based vigilante justice and approach to music industry activism seems overly-symbolic, preachy, and ineffective. See Swift’s lengthy posts about perceived slights she’s endured at the hands of her record label or withholding her entire catalog from streaming on Spotify until 2017 because she wished to call attention to the pitiful percentage of earnings artists actually receive from streams. All this in the name of setting an example and supporting smaller artists actually misses the mark. It’s a brand of activism that for all its good intentions, entirely ignores the very real obstacles small, indie musicians face to even enter the ring. Opting out of streaming isn’t an option for many musicians trying to gain exposure and abstaining from Spotify on principle, AFTER YOU’VE ALREADY MADE YOUR MANY MILLIONS, doesn’t do that much Taylor. Winning some ideological purity test seems like a measure taken for self-preservation rather than a sweeping gesture meant to usher in more progressive industry practices. 

Indeed, these disputes aren’t new. A desire for autonomy and more complete creative control is what drove the Beatles to create Apple Records in 1968 as a vehicle by which they could ostensibly release music that rang truer to their own interests. In the process, they launched the careers of numerous artists including James Taylor. But even Apple Records, which remains operational after 53 years, has become little more than a nostalgia factory for Beatles memorabilia, churning out box sets and re-issues every few years. That’s fine, but it’s an outcome that surely differs from the band’s initial prospects and further reinforces the unfortunate reality that, while it can be argued that it is morally “right” to own one’s own music, the actual release and promotion of this music is hard work. That’s what record labels were created for in the first place. 

While Taylor’s success has already been assured, her future career trajectory is less certain. Even Bob Dylan, arguably the most successful lyricist in American popular music history, received publicity in December 2020 for selling his entire musical catalog to Universal Music Publishing in a deal valued at over $300 million (more on that here). Why Bob Dylan would need an additional $300 million at the age of 79 is in and of itself confusing, but as the music industry has shifted away from selling physical records and touring has been all but eradicated for the foreseeable future, the flow of royalties has likely slowed to a crawl and older musicians interested in preserving their legacies for decades to come have found it advantageous to place their futures securely in the hands of a label who will diligently tend to their back catalogs. Not a romantic solution perhaps but certainly a pragmatic one. 

The further you dive into this debate surrounding music ownership, the more morally ambiguous it becomes. While labels should strive for more equitable operating practices and greater transparency when negotiating artists’ contracts, open-use platforms like SoundCloud, Spotify, and Deezer have negated the necessity of major label representation, and thus, if you’re still choosing to sign with a major label, likely for the greater promotional opportunities and robust industry connections they offer (which they still do), you should accept the realities of that arrangement. While re-recording old music is certainly a choice, I’m not sure it’s the right one. Personally, I can’t think of anything worse than listening to someone in her 30s re-hashing each of her teenage heartbreaks as she goes track-by-track, re-recording her first six albums. “Love Story” is an incredible song, but it’s not made better when sung again after 12+ years of accumulated life experience. It’s like watching an adult shopping for skinny jeans at Forever 21. They don’t fit you anymore. Move on. Nevertheless, it's still early days, and since 2020 was the year Taylor Swift seemingly rediscovered that she knows how to play the guitar (and banjo, which was a pleasant surprise), a few more “folklore”-esque LPs under her belt can only serve her well. After all, labels may manage records, but it’s the talent that sells them. Taylor Swift is a gifted songwriter, and that is a skill that can’t be traded away. Who knows where she’ll be in 10 years. Ready to buy out Scooter Braun, maybe.  

 
Julianna Ritzubatch 4