Proviso: The opinions contained herein do not necessarily reflect those of the management of MusicTAP.com, so with that out of the way…
A few weeks ago, Warner Records announced that because of a decades past-due understanding that the record label would relinquish the “Bros.” and WB iconography back to the movie studio side, there would be a sort of rebranding forthcoming. We received details of this with an announcement from the company.
Trigger warning: What you are about to read is as clear an illustration of desperate marketing people polishing fecal material until it gleams. The new logo is a white circle on a black rectangle. Keep that in mind as they then attempt to paint this dolphin abortion of graphic design as: “artful simplicity and impactful typography that are ideally suited to the digital world. The circular icon – suggesting a record, a sun, and a globe – is a nod to the label’s past, present, and future. The openness of the design gives it the flexibility to embrace all Warner Records artists and all genres of music around the world.”
It is A WHITE CIRCLE ON A BLACK RECTANGLE.
Myself, along with a handful of other music enthusiasts went to social media to complain, because that’s what social media is for and you’ll never convince me otherwise. The responses to this were split down the middle, halfway between commiserating and citing the irrelevance of record labels. So who cares about branding?
Fair point: the labels do not mean as much as they used to. The ones that still exist, however, are more powerful than they’ve ever been, with Universal owning almost everything and Sony buying whatever falls out of the death grip. WEA (Warner/Elektra/Atlantic) also has to fight for ears with the onslaught of free online venues like YouTube and Spotify, and Soundcloud has grown so big, it’s not merely a music delivery portal, it’s a genre unto itself. Who needs to lay prostrate before a record label to beg to be a part of the club?
That’s part of the problem. For a time, it was incredibly difficult to get on a label, even an indie label. How about: especially an indie label. Staffing is small at such places and there’s not enough people or time in the day to listen to demos, but the moment you adopt that “too big to accept demos” policy, you’re also too big to fail. That’s the moment when you stop taking risks, throw in with proven hitmakers who beat the same batch of chords and studio tricks to death (finger-snaps as beats, anyone? Everyone? Even Hoss over there by the cows?), and stop trying to protect your unique culture…much less creating your unique culture.
And that’s where the value of labels used to reside. There was a demeanor, an ethos, to the individual labels. You knew before listening the type of music Columbia excelled in, or what Atlantic preferred. Elektra were risk-takers. MCA was literally the “Music Corporation of America.” Do you know that at one time in the United States, Capitol had among its roster The Beatles, The Beach Boys, Pink Floyd, and more? Success was more than having that contract. It was about having those colleagues. Now Capitol is owned by – wait for it – Universal. The logo is virtually interchangeable with any number of Universal’s other imprints, starting with Interscope, on down to Geffen and DGC which substitute on a whim with A&M and the original MCA label. There’s no real history left. Just a series of placards being painted on one door and scraped off another endlessly.
About the only group I know of that’s releasing new music on the Warner label is The Flaming Lips, now considered a “legacy band,” and if you think that makes me feel old, you’re right. Warner has focused steadily on mining the back catalog for anniversary reissues. With the persistent strength of the vinyl revival and the Baby Boomers that once threw them away now reacquiring them, it’s not necessarily the worst corporate strategy out there.
Nonetheless, it is a strategy that seems to countenance its own future demise, and rather than fight it with more than the latest Fleetwood Mac box set, Warner appears to be content to slowly slip under the horizon line, like a beaming sun draining into a black night…or a lot like Warner’s new logo, drowning, not waving.