保羅·約翰遜低調(diào)地經(jīng)營(yíng)著一份名為Canyon City的音樂(lè)職業(yè)，同時(shí)還兼職零售、Uber司機(jī)，并為其他藝人灌制錄音。隨后，他的民謠流行歌曲《Firework》登上了2016年的Spotify歌單。如今，聽(tīng)眾已經(jīng)成為了Canyon City音樂(lè)的?？?，而約翰遜也成為了一名職業(yè)音樂(lè)藝人，年收入約為20萬(wàn)美元。在他看來(lái)，其中的大部分都來(lái)自于點(diǎn)播版權(quán)費(fèi)。

查特怒加市的這位歌手和吉他手稱(chēng)，這一變化主要源自于歌單曝光度。

30歲的約翰遜說(shuō)，如果沒(méi)有Spotify的話(huà)，“我可能就不會(huì)做音樂(lè)這一行了?！痹谑状蔚顷懜鑶沃?，這位獨(dú)立藝人的點(diǎn)播量迅速?gòu)拿刻鞌?shù)千次躍升至2萬(wàn)次，在接下來(lái)的第二年，其點(diǎn)播量在額外歌單的支持下增至約20萬(wàn)次?！拔乙廊粫?huì)制作音樂(lè)，但不會(huì)是現(xiàn)在這種全職的狀態(tài)，而且我現(xiàn)在可以做很多事情，例如買(mǎi)房子，來(lái)一場(chǎng)遠(yuǎn)途旅行?！?

Spotify一直都是眾多音樂(lè)人的批評(píng)對(duì)象，因?yàn)樗麄冋J(rèn)為該平臺(tái)支付的版權(quán)費(fèi)較低，但一些小眾藝人發(fā)現(xiàn)，如果自己的歌能夠進(jìn)入Spotify經(jīng)營(yíng)的3000個(gè)歌單中，那么就可以接觸到聽(tīng)眾，并以此來(lái)謀生。登陸歌單這種方式可以通過(guò)將其音樂(lè)推送給新聽(tīng)眾，提升藝人的點(diǎn)播量，Spotify的一些歌單有著數(shù)千萬(wàn)的粉絲。

告示牌在去年11月的報(bào)道稱(chēng)，這些歌單曾經(jīng)幫助洛杉磯歌手亞利桑那·澤瓦斯的點(diǎn)播量從每月50萬(wàn)次激增至每年約1080萬(wàn)次，而澳大利亞藝人托尼·沃森（又被稱(chēng)為T(mén)ones and I）在其歌曲《Dance Monkey》登陸多個(gè)國(guó)際歌單之后，于2019年斬獲了6.1億次的點(diǎn)播量。上述兩位歌手均未對(duì)此置評(píng)。

Paul Johnson was scraping out a low-key music career under the name Canyon City while working part-time retail jobs, driving for Uber, and playing recording sessions for other artists. Then his folk-pop song “Firework” landed on a Spotify playlist in 2016. Now listeners stream Canyon City’s music often enough that Johnson is a full-time musician making around $200,000 a year, the “vast majority” of which he attributes to streaming royalties.

It’s a change the Chattanooga singer and guitarist credits largely to playlist exposure.

“I probably wouldn’t be doing this” without Spotify, says Johnson, 30, an independent artist who quickly jumped from a few thousand streams a day to 20,000 after the first playlist, and then grew to around 200,000 over the next year with additional playlist support. “I would still be making music, but not on the level where it’s a full-time career and I’m able to do things like buy a house and go on far-reaching tours.”

Though Spotify has long been the scourge of musicians who think the platform doesn’t pay enough in royalties, some smaller artists are finding they can reach an audience, and make a living, if they can get their songs onto one of the 3,000 playlists that Spotify operates. Playlist placement can amplify the number of streams artists receive by putting their music in front of new listeners—some of Spotify’s playlists have tens of millions of followers.

Playlists helped the Los Angeles singer Arizona Zervas jump from a half-million streams a month to 10.8 million in roughly a year, Billboard reported in last November, while Australian artist Toni Watson, known as Tones and I, has amassed more than 610 million streams in 2019 for her song “Dance Monkey” after it appeared on various international playlists. Neither singer was available for comment.

馬里蘭州流行歌手薩拉·李（藝名REI AMI）到目前為止還未獲得如此之大的成功，但其首支單曲《Snowcone》自去年9月登陸歌單之后已經(jīng)獲得了Spotify用戶(hù)120萬(wàn)次的點(diǎn)播量。24歲的薩拉一開(kāi)始對(duì)此并不抱太大的期望，然而在其歌曲出現(xiàn)在“反流行”歌單上之后，其點(diǎn)播量從每天1萬(wàn)次躍升至每天5萬(wàn)多次。她稱(chēng)其聽(tīng)眾一直都說(shuō)，他們通過(guò)Spotify才發(fā)現(xiàn)了薩拉。薩拉說(shuō)：“我從未想過(guò)點(diǎn)播量會(huì)增加的如此之快?！睂?duì)于音樂(lè)行業(yè)來(lái)說(shuō)，她還是個(gè)新手，而且白天還有工作要做?！昂苊黠@，這個(gè)結(jié)果讓我感到很高興，但也令我感到措手不及，因?yàn)槲覐奈聪脒^(guò)，登陸歌單這樣簡(jiǎn)單的事情能夠開(kāi)啟我的音樂(lè)職業(yè)生涯?！?

關(guān)鍵在于讓自己的歌曲登陸歌單。Spotify藝人和廠牌營(yíng)銷(xiāo)團(tuán)隊(duì)負(fù)責(zé)人杰夫·斯特姆佩克表示，除了用戶(hù)自己創(chuàng)建的歌單之外還有三種歌單。有的歌單是由算法創(chuàng)建的，旨在用歌曲數(shù)據(jù)匹配聽(tīng)眾數(shù)據(jù)（例如“每日混合曲目”或“每周新歌”），有的歌單則是由Spotify100名左右的編輯精心打造，還有的歌單同時(shí)包含了算法和人工元素。斯特姆佩克說(shuō)：“我們編輯策略的整體目標(biāo)完全在于努力為用戶(hù)提供適合他們的音樂(lè)?！?

2018年7月的音頻流服務(wù)在Spotify for Artists平臺(tái)上引入了一個(gè)新的歌單提交工具，它實(shí)際上可以讓音樂(lè)人通過(guò)一個(gè)在線表格，向歌單推薦音樂(lè)，這個(gè)表格涵蓋的信息包括類(lèi)別、場(chǎng)景、樂(lè)器和文化。Spotify編輯每周都會(huì)審核這些提交的內(nèi)容，而且會(huì)根據(jù)數(shù)據(jù)以及個(gè)人直覺(jué)，將其中的一些歌曲導(dǎo)入歌單。

新的提交工具取代了此前毫無(wú)目標(biāo)性的流程，也就是唱片公司和藝人可以通過(guò)任何方式聯(lián)系，例如電子郵件、短信、Instagram的直接留言。斯特姆佩克說(shuō)：“如今，整個(gè)流程變得無(wú)比清晰、透明和有序，編輯每周可以聽(tīng)到和編輯的音樂(lè)比以前要多得多?！?

歌單不斷增長(zhǎng)的重要性在某種程度上重塑了藝人制作音樂(lè)的方式。當(dāng)音樂(lè)人提交歌曲供歌單編輯審核時(shí)，歌曲曲調(diào)會(huì)自動(dòng)出現(xiàn)在“周五新音樂(lè)”歌單中，該歌單由算法為其粉絲創(chuàng)建。Canyon City的保羅·約翰遜指出，與每年或每?jī)赡暌淮涡园l(fā)布一整張專(zhuān)輯的歌曲相比，一次放進(jìn)一兩首短時(shí)長(zhǎng)歌曲更為合理，因?yàn)榇伺e不僅更經(jīng)濟(jì)，而且也有助于與粉絲互動(dòng)。約翰遜說(shuō)：“它有助于讓對(duì)話(huà)持續(xù)下去?！彼€使用Spotify分析工具，按照其聽(tīng)眾的所在地來(lái)預(yù)定巡演。

但也有藝人對(duì)此并不買(mǎi)賬

Spotify沒(méi)有明確透露自己每周會(huì)獲得多少首提交的歌曲，也沒(méi)有透露最終有多少歌曲進(jìn)入了歌單，而那些希望這個(gè)流程更加透明的藝人對(duì)此頗有微詞。南卡羅來(lái)州電子音樂(lè)藝人 Anjali of Diaspoura說(shuō)：“除非有開(kāi)源文件記錄能夠讓所有作為工作者的藝人了解自己提交的歌曲如何進(jìn)入其歌單，否則Spotify依然難以取得我的信任。”這位不到30歲的藝人于去年夏天在美國(guó)共同舉行了五場(chǎng)藝人權(quán)利聚會(huì)，來(lái)討論Spotify的薪酬政策。盡管Diaspoura的歌曲已經(jīng)登陸Spotify，但這位藝人得以繼續(xù)制作音樂(lè)的經(jīng)費(fèi)則來(lái)自于基于注冊(cè)的眾籌平臺(tái)Patreon的收入。

Diaspoura并非是唯一不信任Spotify的藝人，藝人們對(duì)于平臺(tái)的大多數(shù)疑慮都與薪酬政策有關(guān)。當(dāng)Spotify于2006年問(wèn)世時(shí)，由于對(duì)音樂(lè)人薪酬以及公司“免費(fèi)”業(yè)務(wù)模式存在疑慮，不少藝人高調(diào)地收回了其音樂(lè)，包括披頭士、齊柏林飛艇、平克·弗洛伊德和金屬樂(lè)隊(duì)。

另類(lèi)搖滾樂(lè)隊(duì)Letters to Cleo歌手、倡導(dǎo)團(tuán)體“北美詞曲作家”聯(lián)合執(zhí)行總監(jiān)凱·漢莉指出，所有這些行動(dòng)自此之后接踵而至，但這種做法如今沒(méi)有任何優(yōu)勢(shì)可言。51歲的漢莉說(shuō)：“這便是消費(fèi)者選擇傾聽(tīng)音樂(lè)的方式，而我覺(jué)得，制作音樂(lè)的所有目的便是為了讓人們聽(tīng)音樂(lè)。因此，如果你切斷了消費(fèi)者幾乎所有的入口通道，那還有什么意義呢？”

漢莉說(shuō)她自己總的來(lái)說(shuō)是流媒體音樂(lè)的粉絲，但她不會(huì)使用Spotify，因?yàn)樵摴菊谂c其他機(jī)構(gòu)一道起訴美國(guó)聯(lián)邦版權(quán)委員會(huì)，因?yàn)楹笳咦罱龀鰶Q定，將訂閱服務(wù)公司向詞曲作家支付的薪酬提升44%。根據(jù)當(dāng)前的規(guī)定，如果藝人自己演唱的歌曲（尤其這首歌由該藝人所寫(xiě)，而且是其母版錄音的所有者）出現(xiàn)在Spotify的歌單上，那么藝人就可以獲得薪酬。但陳舊的版權(quán)法規(guī)定，那些未演唱自己所寫(xiě)歌曲的詞曲作家獲得的收入要少得多，當(dāng)前僅為總收入的10%，而演唱者能拿到60%，這意味著詞曲作家基本與歌單的吸金效應(yīng)無(wú)緣。

漢莉說(shuō)：“如今，如果詞曲作家既不是演唱者，也沒(méi)有參與母版錄制，那么他們完全依靠流媒體來(lái)謀生是不可能的?！卑鏅?quán)費(fèi)之爭(zhēng)極其晦澀難懂，因?yàn)閷?duì)于那些不受其影響的藝人來(lái)說(shuō)，自己沒(méi)有必要關(guān)注這件事情。作為母版錄音的所有者，約翰遜依然對(duì)于自己基本上靠Spotify點(diǎn)播量來(lái)謀生的事實(shí)感到驚嘆不已。他說(shuō)：“我的巡演并不多，而且我是一名獨(dú)立藝人。我當(dāng)前并非只是勉強(qiáng)度日，而是處于蒸蒸日上的狀態(tài)，這真是件瘋狂的事情?！保ㄘ?cái)富中文網(wǎng)）

譯者：馮豐

審校：夏林

Sarah Lee, a Maryland pop singer who performs as REI AMI, hasn’t reached those heights so far, but Spotify users have streamed her song “Snowcone”—Lee’s first-ever release—more than 1.2 million times since she put it out in last September. Lee, 24, had low expectations until the song showed up on the “Anti Pop” playlist and jumped from 10,000 streams a day to more than 50,000. She says her listeners tell her all the time that they discovered her through Spotify. “I never imagined things would pick up so rapidly,” says Lee, who is new enough to music that she still has a day job. “And it was obviously so great to see, but it was almost overwhelming because I just never thought that simply being playlisted would jump-start my career.”

The trick is getting your song on a playlist. Apart from user-created playlists, there are three kinds, says Jeff Stempeck, a team lead on artist and label marketing at Spotify. There are playlists populated by an algorithm that seeks to match song data with listener data (“Your Daily Mix,” for example, or “Discover Weekly”), human-curated playlists tended by 100 or so editors at Spotify, and playlists that combine algorithmic and human elements. “The overall goal with our editorial strategy, it’s really all about trying to serve the right music to the right users,” Stempeck says.

The streaming service in July 2018 introduced a new playlist submission tool on its Spotify for Artists platform, which allows musicians to essentially pitch songs for playlist consideration through an online form that includes information like genre, mood, instrumentation, and culture. Spotify editors review the submissions weekly and, through a combination of data and gut feeling, steer some of them into playlists.

The new submission tool replaced a more scattershot process in which record labels and artists would get in touch however they could: email, text messages, direct messages on Instagram. “Now it’s an incredibly clear, transparent, organized process where editors can listen to way more music and program a lot more songs each week,” Stempeck says.

The growing importance of playlists is, in some ways, shaping how artists make music. When musicians submit a song for editorial playlist consideration, the tune will automatically appear in the “New Music Friday” playlists that are algorithmically created for their followers. Rather than releasing a full album’s worth of tunes every year or two and submitting one tune for playlist consideration, Canyon City’s Paul Johnson says putting out one or two songs at a time at shorter intervals makes more sense, economically and in terms of fan engagement. “It helps keep a conversation going,” says Johnson, who also uses Spotify analytics to book tours based on places where users are listening to his music.

But artists aren’t fully sold

Spotify won’t specify how many submissions it gets per week, or how many of them end up on playlists, which irks musicians who want to see a more transparent process. “Until there is some sort of open source documentation for all artists as workers to see exactly how our submissions are funneling into their playlists, Spotify will remain untrustworthy to me,” says Anjali of Diaspoura, a South Carolina electronic artist under 30 who co-organized five artists’ rights rallies around the country last summer to discuss Spotify’s compensation practices. Though Diaspoura’s songs are on Spotify, the artist relies on income from the subscription-based crowdfunding platform Patreon to continue making music.

Diaspoura isn’t the only Spotify skeptic, and most of the misgivings musicians have about the platform revolve around the issue of compensation. When Spotify launched in 2006, concerns about musicians’ pay and the company’s “freemium” business model prompted more than a few high-profile acts to withhold their music, including the Beatles, Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd, and Metallica.

All those acts have since come around, and these days there’s no advantage to that approach, says Kay Hanley, singer for the alt-rock band Letters to Cleo and co-executive director of the advocacy group Songwriters of North America. “This is how consumers have chosen to listen to music,” says Hanley, 51. “And the whole point of making music, I think, is for people to hear it. So if you're cutting off pretty much every entryway to the consumer, what is the point?”

Hanley says she’s a fan of streaming music services in general, but she won’t use Spotify because the company is among those appealing a recent decision by the federal Copyright Royalty Board to increase by 44% the compensation that subscription services pay to songwriters. Under current rules, artists on Spotify can make money if a song they perform ends up on a playlist, especially if they wrote the song and own the master recording. Because of archaic copyright laws, songwriters who do not perform the songs they write are paid much less—currently just 10% of the overall revenue, compared to 60% for performers—meaning the playlist bonanza effectively leaves out songwriters.

“There is no world where a songwriter can make a living with streaming as your only source of revenue if you’re not the artist, and you have no participation in the master,” Hanley says. The royalty dispute is arcane enough that it doesn’t always resonate with artists who aren’t affected by it. Johnson, who owns his master recordings, still marvels over the fact that he is making a living largely through Spotify streams. “I don’t tour too much, and I’m an independent artist,” he says. “So it’s really kind of wild to me that I’m not just getting by, but really kind of thriving.”