Who owns a sound?

“Copyright Criminals” (Directed by Benjamin Franzen and Kembrew McLeod, 2009)



By now most music listeners have noticed that music is not as original as it used to be. The newest pop sensations are utilizing faint reminders of 80s songs gone by and hip-hop artists are blatantly featuring entire chunks of past tunes between their original beats and verses. While it’s universally accepted that this still counts as music, the documentary “Copyright Criminals” takes a look back at the history of sampling and the legal struggles taken to support a new breed of musicians.

Directors Benjamin Franzen and Kembrew McLeod rounded up an impressive roster of musicians, producers, entertainment lawyers and others in the music business as interview subjects exploring the copyright laws of sampling. While there is an attempt by the directors at showing all sides of the story, the finished product skews in favor of the musicians, a predictable bias. Utilizing visual techniques, familiar songs and an interesting topic, “Copyright Criminals” twists the typical documentary form, a task sometimes proven difficult in the “made-for-PBS” genre.

Straying from the monotony of the usual talking heads of documentaries, this film took a core message of the film’s music—“It’s all about collage”—and incorporated it with the film’s visuals. One montage in particular showed Clyde Stubblefield playing “Funky Drummer” on one side of the screen while a seemingly endless rotation of shots of groups such as Public Enemy, Beastie Boys, LL Cool J, Prince and more. This visually and musically shows Stubblefield’s importance to the world of sampling instead of just relying on a series of interviews to get his involvement across.

It may not have been in the director’s hands, but those representing the side of the law and the negative aspects of sampling came across as jaded by the industry. Producer Anthony Berman refers to sampling as a lazy artistic choice, an argument easily and almost immediately refuted by artists describing a tedious process of collecting and arranging samples that is anything but lazy. A stronger opposing view would have created more of an impact on how serious the conflict is.

Despite the lack of a strong opposition, the forces representing the pro-sampling crowd are entertaining and genuine. Checking in with some of the original sampling artists, such as De La Soul, reminds viewers where and how the technique started while up-and-coming artists shown in their creative habitats remind how the industry is changing and where the future of sampling is heading.

An entertaining and informative look into something affecting the music business daily, “Copyright Criminals” serves its purpose to educate without being boring. The lingering message of the film might make one stop and question the next sampling beat they come across and wonder who actually owns that sound.

The Dream of the 90s is Alive in Portland

“Portlandia” (Season 1, Episode 1-3, “Farm,” “A Song for Portland” and “Aimee,” IFC)

Portrayed as a world of tribal tattoos, fixed gear bikes and residents obsessed with organic farming, “Portlandia”’s Portland is, as said by Sleater-Kinney’s Carrie Brownstein, almost like an alternate universe. It’s a place “where young people go to retire” and the “dream of the 90s” is still alive. While every scene is based in reality—a library, a restaurant, the actual streets of Portland—the show takes everything to new level with the caricatures presented by creators and stars Brownstein and Fred Armisen.

IFC’s newest jab at original programming presents a satire whose humor is based not in distaste but affection. The attitude of the sketch comedy set-up gives off a “we’re-laughing-with-you-not-at-you” vibe with short glimpses of life in every facet of Portland. It’s entertaining on its own for outsiders to enjoy and speculate on how much is based in truth, with enough inside nods to make Portlanders feel a special connection and superiority while watching.

Even the least outrageous of scenes bring a whimsy. Going in and out of character, a mainstay for each episode is the actual Fred and Carrie, exploring their new found wonderland. In the second episode, as they’re settling in, they visit the mayor to appeal for a citywide “Bring Your Guitar to School or Work Day.” While we might like to think Portland’s actual mayor, Sam Adams, bikes through his office, sits on an exercise ball behind his desk and has a deep-rooted hatred for Seattle, this is most likely just an exaggeration for the sake of humor. Then again, Sam Adams himself is a main supporter of the scene, running in and out as the assistant to Kyle MacLachlan’s mayor, so it may be rooted in more truth than expected.

The support of guest stars, such as Mayor Adams and Kyle MacLachlan, in the first three episodes alone brings an authority to each sketch. In the first episode, Steve Buscemi appears as a patron of a the Women and Women First bookstore, ridiculed by the feminists who own it for not buying anything only to be locked in the store when they leave to get change for his eventual purchase from the bank. In a running gag in the third episode, Aimee Mann plays herself as Fred and Carrie’s cleaning lady, a reflection of the declining music business.

Armisen and Brownstein seamlessly transition from character to character in each sketch, whether they be crafters obsessed with putting birds on things, a couple with a struggling sex life in which Armisen and Brownstein swap genders or scripted portrayals of themselves, the two complement each other’s mannerisms in every scene. Brownstein shines through as a pleasant surprise, holding back no inhibitions and showing no signs that she is a musician first, comedienne second.

Though the scope is narrowed in on Portland, Armisen and Brownstein have already proven that the possibilities are endless, making the smallest details of the city’s landscape—a food truck selling crepes, laws protecting bicyclists, dumpster diving—into an entertaining glimpse at another world.

The Stylings of Donna Seaman

In a round table of critics discussing their trade in Time Out Chicago, eight noted Chicago critics brought their unique perspectives from each of their specialties on why they are critics and what makes their work valid.

Right off the bat, book critic Donna Seaman, of Booklist and WLUW’s Open Books, validates that passion is of the utmost importance. It is one's "hunger," as she says, for what they are drawn to that will lead to gaining critical knowledge and an adventurous spirit to explore every facet of the topic. Passion is what leads to education which then gives you the expertise to criticize.

Together all the critics agree that knowledge and passion go hand in hand when critiquing work, but Seaman goes further to say that the passion and knowledge of others are also to be considered. Seeing the experience in a greater context and realizing the varying responses others will receive is important in order to give an all inclusive analysis. She says, “Everyone who reads a book, listens to a piece of music, and so on, experiences a slightly different work of art.” It’s true. Art as a medium is meant to be subjective, and while there a few solid details that can be validated as right or wrong, the rest of critiquing is just one person’s opinion.

As the conversation sways to the advent of the internet as a more frequently utilized medium of criticism, the argument of print dying along with writer’s paychecks dominates the discussion. But this is where Seaman brings up a point that brings forth optimism in the cyber world: “As print may go the way of the dinosaurs, there is more traditional editorial professionalism online.” She suggests that writers will be able to succeed and survive online as the same standards that once were held in print are adopted on the Internet for the new generation. While both print and online are trying to co-exist, it just ends up being more unrewarded work for the writers.

The informal nature of the web, all critics agree, allow for a longer monologue by the writer and then an ongoing conversation between critic and reader, something Seaman sees as vital, yet dangerous. The public confrontation is bringing forth a generation of critics with more courage than those born out of strictly print.

The discussion comes to a close with no closure on the print vs. web issue that so many writers have come to face and will continue struggling with in the future, and Seaman sees a place for both. She points out that many online writers are still finding a place in book form, anthologies and Web lit. When finishing up as moderator Kris Vire asks if those who still get paid for writing would “head to Blogspot and keep cranking it out” for free, the passion Seaman addresses in her opening words gets the best of her and she responds, “Yes, ‘fraid so.”

This brings all the critics to a similar conclusion: their passion and the need to review, whether being paid or not, will keep criticism alive.