Programmers as Tastemakers
As we continue to move from a culture of passive reception to one based on active and informed choice, control over art forms is slipping away from those companies and institutions that once dominated mainstream media. Everybody knows that MTV, the platform that once had a virtual stranglehold over the distribution of mainstream clips, no longer singly determines the success or failure of a video promo campaign. And as the network’s affiliate stations continue to chase programming that has nothing to do with music videos, fans of the form have flocked to other outlets, mostly online: Yahoo! Music (formerly Launch.com), MTV’s own website, and weblogs dedicated to showing clip s. MySpace now promises free distribution of indie video content to its millions of participant-subscribers, and even the All Music Guide has begun embedding video clips in its massive database of discographies. Is video “on demand”, driven by the whims of consumers alone, about to make the playlist obsolete?
If the past is any indication, it’ll be more complex than that. The ubiquity of Internet downloads and iPod track lists has damaged the hegemony of commercial radio programmers, but it hasn’t meant chaos. Instead, it has created an opportunity for podcasters, influential webloggers, and regional radio program directors to emerge as new tastemakers. We’d expect that something similar will happen with videos. No matter how educated an individual consumer becomes, the organization of all the cultural noise that surrounds her is a big job. If a trusted arbiter can intervene with recommendations, she’ll willingly take that guidance.
Like music itself, videos will increasingly be organized and distributed on a curatorial model. The old dictatorial apparatus will slowly fall into disuse as consumers will increasingly choose to follow the suggestions or coherently designed playlists of a dedicated outside source. This future should only terrify those whose can’t conceive of a coherent playlist, or whose idea of proper distribution consists of saturation-bombing the audience with a handful of mainstream releases. Specialized programmers, or curators, who make available shows of excellence with a true conceptual focus will capture the attention of ‘net savvy, twenty-first century viewers.
If you’re still not convinced that regional programmers can survive and thrive in an environment where nearly every clip filmed is immediately available for free download, consider the object lesson taught by The Box, that first tentative experiment with video “on demand”. For those who don’t remember The Box, it was essentially an all-request version of MTV, broadcast to cable audiences in the early Nineties. Viewers could call a 900 number, pay a nominal fee, and instruct the network to play any of several hundred clips in its database. The anarchic spirit of the station was quickly undermined by its own audience. Instead of taking an exploratory approach and sampling from the more interesting stretches of the menu, callers to The Box instead chose to watch clip after clip of 2 Live Crew and Miami bass. Now, we appreciate Luther Campbell as much as anybody (probably more than anybody), but that’s beside the point: a diet of nothing but desultory 2 Live Crew spinoffs is no more than empty calories. The direct democratic election of pop stars failed, and will continue to fail, because audiences are inherently conservative. They will always be inclined to try to replicate their own established preferences. And without outside intervention, they will eventually become bored and lose interest.
The role of the curator is to intervene in the habitual behavior of the viewer by confronting her with the surprise and stimulation of unexpected quality. Regional program directors are in an optimal position to do this: they’ve already got the raw material (the videos), they’ve got already-established urban audiences, and their budgets are reasonable enough that they can afford to take chances on adventurous material and keep an ear to the sidewalk. New York Noise, a thrice-weekly NYCTV video showcase, has become must-watch television for thousands upon thousands of metro-area music lovers. The key to the program’s success: a willingness to constantly challenge its viewers with the freshest and most cutting-edge material. New York Noise is also intimately connected with the local music scene, airing clips from well-known regional acts, labels and directors. This dedication to Metropolitan artists has earned it the appreciation of all those involved in NYC music (most of the city, last time we checked.) The regional program is integrated into the lives of its audience members in a way that the broadcast platforms can never be.
So should they play their cards right, local shows like New York Noise can well be the platforms of the future for music videos. As the traditional channels continue to fragment, listeners who’d otherwise be mystified and bewildered by the multiplicity of choices will turn first to the guidance and structure of curated regional playlists. Whether or not those channels hold public interest will depend entirely on the curator’s ability to be consistently courageous and provocative. Video program directors used to be disinclined to take chances; now, a programmer who ignores cutting-edge videos will lose public interest. It’s no longer possible to force-feed Winger to a captive audience – there are too many alternate choices for viewers, and whether they know what they’re doing or not, audience members are going to demand quality and expect challenges.