Back in my songwriting days (yes, I actually used to have a job where I created something, rather than just trying to sell something), I used to work with a collaborator who referred to her songs as her “babies”. To be honest, I never felt quite that maternal about my tunes (probably a gender thing). I viewed them more as unruly teenagers—brimming with potential, but usually plagued by one or two disastrous character flaws, and prone to costing me a lot more money than they would ever bring in.
Nevertheless, those songs were mine. I wouldn’t want to think of them as orphans. Actually, I never knew songs could be orphans. But apparently, they can. Imagine them, sitting homeless and forlorn by the side of the road, waiting for someone to come by, offer a ride, and take them away…
Could happen. I saw a fascinating blog recently:
which on Friday, April 25 addressed the issue of “orphan works” – a subject currently in front of the United States House and Senate. “Orphan works” are copyrights (songs, books, recordings, you name it) for which it is not possible to identify or contact an owner. What the author of Music-Technology-Policy, Chris Castle, very adroitly points out is that there are large commercial interests, Google in particular, that have a vested interest in supporting legislation to make it possible for these “orphaned” works to be used freely, without compensation or risk of penalty.
The problem is largely one of definitions. Certainly, anyone with experience in publishing would be willing to acknowledge that some works do fall into “orphan” status. Disputes between writers, convoluted copyright histories, failure of heirs to continue to administer copyrights, works essentially abandoned by their own authors (remember that scene in “Raising Arizona” where they leave the baby on the car)—these are all situations that can eventually make it impossible to identify the proper owner of a copyright. But companies like Google are setting the bar pretty low.
According to the blog, Google’s Lester Lessig has referred to “out of print books” as orphans. Google’s General Counsel has said publicly: “These works include those for which the author or assignee of the work – the work’s “parent”—can no longer be determined, usually because the contact Information on the copyright registration is out of date”. They also expand that definition of orphan to include “works that have been, for all intents and purposes, ‘disowned’ either because any potential monetary value of the works has expired or because their authors simply are not interested in enforcing copyrights on their works”.
Wow. Those are pretty broad definitions. To claim that just because something is “out of print” makes it an orphan would put a huge portion of American music’s master recordings into the home for wayward record albums. Only a very small portion of recorded music can ever be profitably kept “in print” at any given time. But it may still be actively used in movies, television, advertising, etc. Similarly, labeling something an orphan because of an incorrect contact on the copyright registration is like deeming anyone with an incorrect address on a driver’s license a fugitive. Copyright registrations are notoriously out of date, which is why large film studios use search services that specialize in tracking down authors and publishers.
Finally, to decide that works generating little income or for which the authors are no longer actively engaged in protecting the copyrights are “orphans” overlooks some fundamental realities of publishing. At Shapiro Bernstein, where I work, we have a song in our catalogue that for over two decades generated income in the low three figures (and that’s counting dollars and cents). But upon rediscovering it in the vaults, more than 50 years after its initial creation, the song suddenly found a new life—showing up in a Tarantino film, and then catching to become a stadium anthem, then finding its way into several national advertising campaigns. The song now generates more than enough income to keep its writers living well, and to renew their interest in their long lost “baby”. Songs come back. And when they do, the copyright owners get interested very quickly.
The point of all this is not to encourage you to write your Congressman about the “orphan works” legislation—though I wouldn’t discourage it either. The real point is to remind you once again of how important it is to maintain and update all of the information necessary for administering your copyrights.
Check your ASCAP registrations regularly. Make sure your publisher and your PRO have your correct address. Maintain accurate copyright registrations. Remain ever vigilante for unauthorized uses.
I’ve made all of these points before, both here, and in my book “Making Music Make Money”. It is a primary concern of my Berkleemusic class, Music Publishing 101. Whenever I talk about this subject, I usually emphasize that the songwriter is also a publisher of his or her own work, at least until he or she decides to assign that responsibility to someone else. As publishers, it’s our job to administer and protect the copyright.
But here’s a new way to look at it. You’re not only your song’s publisher. You’re the parent. You created it—now you have to take care of it. If you don’t, there are plenty of large “content” –hungry companies and creative “pop culture alchemists” who will be more than happy to take your song and call it their own. In this Information and Entertainment Age, nothing of value will stay an orphan for long.
