When Radiohead, the revered British rock band, announced their current world tour, the response was almost inevitably hysterical. Concerts everywhere from Europe to Japan to the United States sold out in little more than seconds. The rush to get anywhere near the smallest gigs, at London’s Roundhouse (capacity 3,300), made headlines. “Gone in 20 minutes" announced The Guardian, referring to the 10,000 blink-and-you-miss-them tickets. Some of these quickly resurfaced for resale at around £1,500 (original price £70).
Radiohead fans are famously obsessive. On the tour’s opening night in Amsterdam, hundreds if not thousands congregated online, scanning the band’s vibrant and often funny Reddit page for news about the setlist as it was played. How much of the frankly astounding A Moon Shaped Pool would they play? Would they really bring a string section to replicate the haunting sounds composed by Radiohead’s multi-instrumentalist Jonny Greenwood? There were calls for obscure B-sides (personally I wanted Pearly), and healthy speculation whether Radiohead might play Creep, their first, much-maligned hit. Reading the posts at home didn’t mitigate the disappointment of missing out on a ticket, but the sense of community provided light-hearted compensation.
After the concert began, links appeared directing us to Periscope.tv, Twitter’s live broadcast app. Unsure what this meant, I opened a page which was filled with hazy, grey images, which after a pause burst into sound. The sound was Radiohead. The sound was Radiohead playing Decks Dark from A Moon Shaped Pool. The sound was Radiohead playing Decks Dark seemingly live in Amsterdam at that very moment.
Was this really happening? And what kind of witchcraft was making it possible? The practical answer was that an audience member was using their phone to broadcast the Heineken Music Hall concert to the entire world.
The Reddit community quickly adapted to the various streams emanating from the band’s following gigs in Paris and London, praising the de facto cameramen, giggling at some of those lucky to have seats and critiquing the footage as only true believers can.
This is central to Periscope’s self-declared conversational method, which is to connect broadcasters and viewers in an “honest fashion", and to teleport the audience into the broadcast.
The longer I watched, more pressing questions began to form.
What are the ramifications of such broadcasts – legally, artistically, economically and philosophically – for viewers, broadcasters and the performers themselves? How exactly is watching Radiohead live via Periscope different from seeing them in the flesh or trawling the internet to uncover bootlegged footage of their 2016 performances? What challenges do the live nature of an unlicensed broadcast lay down for censorship or for regulating access?
Christina Michalos, a lawyer at London barristers 5RB who specialises in issues arising from internet user-generated content, has no doubts about the legal aspects. “Live streaming of a concert is about as unlawful as you can get in intellectual property law terms," she says.
Michalos cites “copyright infringement of the music and lyrics of the songs" as well as infringement of “performers’ rights": “Under UK law, any performer has exclusive rights in respect of their live performances."
Finally, Michalos argues, “in many cases it would be a breach of contract as it is likely to be contrary to the terms of sale of the ticket and may also be in breach of the venue’s terms of entry."
Like most major content platforms, Periscope does not proactively monitor content on the service but relies on its community to ensure its rules are obeyed. When I asked Periscope for comment, no spokesperson wanted to be quoted on the record.
I was directed to their copyright policy: “We respect the intellectual property rights of others and expect Periscope users to do the same. We will respond to notices of alleged copyright infringement that comply with applicable law and are properly provided to us."
One could argue the complex issues of responsibility typify how the internet is reconfiguring the relationship between performers, audience and, for want of a better phrase, publishers.
To put this another way: which major musical artist today would prosecute its most ardent fans for recording a concert or the platform on which that film was uploaded? Metallica may have won their legal battle against file-sharing website Napster in 2001, but most commentators would agree they lost a cultural war they simply hadn’t grasped, losing credibility and fans in the process.
For Alfie Spencer, a cultural semiotician who analyses brands for the brand consultancy, Flamingo, “the [Periscope] situation typifies the whole problem of content production for the music industry at the moment".
Spencer argues that someone streaming the Radiohead gig embodies a nexus of ideas that no one has really thought through.
“The basic line is that what they are doing is theft. But parts of the brand world would say that as long as they are not making money from the stream, and it’s an act of love, this is just a form of ‘fan’ activity. Good for ‘brand Radiohead’. Even an ‘ad’ for the gig. A proper Catch 22."
Content providers like Periscope may not say anything new about the tensions inherent in the online relationship between Radiohead and its fans, but they do slice them in intriguing ways. Radiohead has decided to embrace the new platform.
Before a recent headlining slot at Iceland’s Secret Solstice festival, the band’s official website encouraged fans “to set up their own Periscope stream of the show for the benefit of the rest of us", and provided “Wi-Fi codes…to help things run smoothly". This announcement – which unites technology, music and community – is entirely in keeping with the band’s broader philosophy.
They may have written entire albums (OK Computer) interrogating the dehumanising effects of technology, but the band quickly identified the significance, possibilities and challenges posed by the internet, above all as the means of mediating their relationship with their fanbase. They blogged about the recording of their 2000 masterpiece Kid A, which later became the first major album to be streamed for free in history.
Radiohead were also alert to the ways in which the internet redraws previously clear lines between artist and audience, legality and, for want of a better word, cool.
Pitchfork, the far-reaching music website, recently recalled how several years ago, the band’s publishing company threatened to sue several fansites for illegally publishing lyrics. Jonathan Percy, who ran Green Plastic – one of the most influential sites – reached out directly to the band, and the issue was resolved amicably, without recourse to lawyers.
The hysteria surrounding Radiohead’s current tour was, in part, due to its exclusivity. Fans praised the decision to play more intimate venues, even as their chances of actually attending plummeted.
Thanks to the access provided by platforms like Periscope, an audience can now be simultaneously excluded and included at the same time, absent and yet present. Radiohead fans in Abu Dhabi can witness the very moment they debut Burn the Witch in Holland, attempt the new piano version of True Love Waits in Paris or play Creep for the first time since 2009.
This strange collision of proximity and distance raises still more questions. Is exclusivity or even privacy possible any longer thanks to sites like Periscope? Does live streaming dilute the privileged status of an actual audience who believe they are attending a unique event?
Live-streams have their limitations. No one watching Radiohead online would have turned down a ticket to the gig proper. This was the last resort. Even a vastly-improved Periscope – with crystal-clear visuals, rich sound and smooth, up-to-the-second streams – cannot match the visceral, sensory experience of attending a live rock concert, for good and bad.
The volume, the anticipation, the discomfort, the crowd, the moments of eye contact with performers, the ticket stubs, even the smartphones being waved about, possibly to broadcast the action. Live streaming is all very well, but it isn’t life, in all its unmediated, unmatchable glory.
James Kidd is a freelance reviewer who lives in London.
