Back in 1976, a music promoter offered $230 million to the former members of the Beatles, if they would reunite for a concert.
He didn’t know how to contact them—so he took out a full-page ad in the New York Times.
How did the Beatles respond?
Somebody tracked down Ringo, and asked if he saw the ad. “It was too long to read,” the drummer replied. As far as I can tell, none of the other band members even bothered to comment.
Money couldn’t buy the Beatles back then—not even $230 million. (That’s the equivalent of $1.2 billion today.)
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This all changed in 1987, when the Beatles song “Revolution” showed up on a Nike TV commercial. The sellout here, however, was Michael Jackson—who owned Beatles publishing rights, and cut a deal for $500,000.
A generational shift had taken place by then. Michael Jackson had no qualms about endorsing brands and corporations. But there was a heavy price to pay—these sponsorships may actually have contributed to his early death.
The Beatles had a very different attitude toward licensing deals, and actually filed a lawsuit in protest. The dispute was settled out of court two years later—the terms undisclosed.
But a precedent was established. Beatles songs were now available for commercial use.
Sooner or later, all the big rock stars from that era swallowed their pride, and sold out. The Rolling Stones refused to let Snickers use “(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction” to advertise candy bars—until the offer reached $4 million. That was too sweet to leave on the table.
But the ultimate cringe moment took place at the launch event for Microsoft Windows 95—where the worst dancing in history was accompanied by Mick Jagger singing “Start Me Up.”
Rock and roll will never die—or so the saying goes. But it came close on August 24, 1995.
There was heavy irony in many of these deals. Consider the case of Bob Dylan—who joked, back in 1965, that he if he ever sold out for a commercial, it would be for “ladies garments.”
And 42 years later, he did just that—when his music appeared in a commercial for Victoria’s Secret.
By this time, nobody got shocked anymore when rockers shilled products.
Many older fans, however, were still disgusted—how much money do Dylan and Jagger really need? Isn’t it enough just being a rock star?
Marketeers feared a backlash. An article in AdWeek in 1985 warned that baby boomers had a “deep-rooted suspicion of the corporate sell,” and in 1988 Neil Young even wrote a song mocking the use of rock music in advertising.
Ain’t singing for Pepsi.
Ain’t singing for Coke.
I don’t sing for nobody.
Makes me look like a joke.
The music video for the song, “This Note’s for You,” begins with a parody of a Budweiser commercial. It got banned from MTV for ridiculing advertisers.
But the backlash never actually happened. And licensed songs started showing up everywhere.
Rappers led the way. The frequent mention of consumer brand names in hip-hop lyrics had made their songs an obvious source for TV commercials.
At first, companies were caught by surprise. Execs for Adidas were dumbfounded when they attended a Run DMC concert at Madison Square Garden, and saw fans lifting their sneakers up in the air during the song “My Adidas”—which mentions their brand 20 times in less than three minutes.
This was better than advertising.
Companies now fell in love with hip-hop—funneling huge amounts of money to artists who would rap about their brands.
They succeeded magnificently. A survey of rap music videos released between 1995 and 2008 found that more than 90% mention branded products.
Companies fought like horny groupies over the hottest musicians—and bragged about their scores. “At least eight of the top twenty Billboard hip-hop singles [in 2003] referred to Pepsi” notes Timothy Taylor in his book The Sounds of Capitalism.
But McDonald’s got jealous, and tried to generate similar product placement in 2005. The company allegedly paid from one to five dollars every time a song was played on the radio, if the lyrics mentioned the hamburger chain.
This, of course, could backfire. Wrigley used Chris Brown’s 2008 hit “Forever” to sell chewing gum—but had to pull the ad after the singer got arrested for assaulting his girlfriend. Sean ‘Diddy’ Combs is a more recent example. In the aftermath of his arrest for excessive and abusive diddying, he was dropped by pretty much everybody.
But corporations are willing to run that risk. If you want to be edgy, sometimes you get cut.
After Pepsi’s huge success, the advertising business literally started merging into the music industry. In 2008,Sony BMG actually opened an in-house advertising agency. A few months later, the ad agency Euro RSCG acquired a record label.
Many managers now advised artists to put advertising placement ahead of all other ways of promoting songs—because a TV commercial launches a song more widely than radio airplay. In a total reversal of previous practices, the song starts out as an advertising jingle first, and turns into a hit later.
Marketing would now swallow music whole—so much so, that the top earning recording artists in the world now make more from branding deals than music.
Taylor Swift recently reversed that trend—actually rising to the top of the Forbes list of wealthy musicians by live performances. But she is a rarity in the current moment. Even the most famous musicians of our day can earn more from cosmetics, or sneakers, or booze, than from a hit song.
Pundits now laugh at accusations of selling out. A recent article accused ‘purists’ of holding views that are “obsolete and a little naïve.” Anyone in the music world who disagrees is attacked for “self-righteousness.”
But is it really that simple? Is music just about chasing the money?
That just doesn’t feel right.
When music by the Velvet Underground shows up on an Expedia TV commercial, my immediate reaction is Gag me with a Warhol banana. When I see a Sex Pistols credit card I’m tempted to default on my next payment.
But this isn’t just a matter of feelings—or nostalgia for a groovier day when the world ran on peace and love, not dollars and cents.
There’s a very good reason why you shouldn’t sell out. People lose trust in you when you put money ahead of your values.
This is true for every profession, not just musicians. Do you want your doctor to sell out? Do you want her financial adviser to sell out? Do you want your spouse to sell out? Do you want anybody you rely on to sellout?
Nope.
That’s why I don’t put advertising in my articles, or seek sponsors or do paid endorsements. (I sometimes offer free endorsements, when I believe in something—but I don’t take cash for it.)
By the way, I also refuse all free trips to music festivals in exchange for review articles. I won’t take any cash for coverage of any sort, no matter how carefully they try to position it. [“It’s not a bribe, Ted—let’s just say it’s an honorarium.”]
I refuse these things because my whole career is built on a foundation of trust. It’s a mistake to jeopardize that. Even more to the point, I don’t want to.
I wouldn’t enjoy my vocation if I took payouts from the highest bidder in exchange for services rendered. I don’t think my readers would either.
That’s why selling out will never be totally legit. Trust never goes out of style.
Right now, there’s a crisis of trust in society. It is literally the scarcest thing in the world.
That’s not unconnected to the prevalent view that it’s okay to take the money and run.
The way to repair trust is by putting people ahead of cash. Musicians aren’t the only guilty parties here—and, in fact, they do very little harm compared to others who receive corporate payouts.
But musicians are the right people to set an example. Maybe if superstar performers had higher priorities than their next branding deal, others might follow along.
Let’s at least try it, and find out.
In general, I agree with your comments. The problem is. probably most obvious and glaring with artists who are already very successful whether it's Bob Dylan or Mick Jagger.
When I live in. NYC in the 60's and into the 70's, I was a studio musician. New York was and to some extent remains, the jingle capital of the US., largely because so many ad. agencies are headquartered there. As a "hired gun," I played on dozens and dozens of commercials, with a lesser number of gigs in film and records. Of course, studio musicians remain anonymous, so you are not lending yoirf name to a product only your talents. A couple of stories:
I played on an American Airlines commercial. It had been written by Jerry Jeff Walker, and he was so conflicted about doing it that he did dozens and dozens of takes. To aggravate things, his guitarist was one of those musicians who never played the same thing twice. That can work well on records, but is kind of antithetical to the concept of jingles, which generally involve little improvisation. Eventually the agency people gave up, and a week later I played on a different American jingle, which was the one that got used. Another time I played banjo and guitar on a Brothers Four recording session. To be honest, the music was boring, and required little effort. I lived ten blocks away from the studio. Walking home I heard music coming out of a bar. It was a plectrum banjo player named Lee Blair and a pianist named Cliff Jackson. I went in and had a drink and listened to them for about an hour. There were maybe a half dozen people in the place. The music was somewhere between dixieland and swing, and these musicians were both fine players. I figured they were lucky if they were making $25. each for the gig. I had made maybe six times that on my session. It was clear to me who was being exploited and who was rewarded for being in the right place with the right contacts at the right time. Another time In played on a jingle for Crest Toothpaste. It was a beautifully written instrumental piece, composed by Mitch Leigh (Man of lLa Mancha.). We did two or three takes of it. Mitch had set up a sort of contrapuntal rhythm between a small rhythm section and an oboe and soprano sax played-Phil Bodner and Jimmy D'Abato. The agency didn't like the music. A break was called, and we were sent home early. A week later we came back and did four really dull jingles that Mitch had written for them. Really insipid stuff, like one was sort of a re-write of Oh Susannah. The agency loveds it, and used it. As Mort Sahl used to say, "who is to say what is good and what is bad?"
I remember when famous actors and musicians would do commercials in Japan but not in the US. I'm with you--every time I hear a song or a musician (or actor) in an ad for the first time... welp, there goes another one. A long time ago our label put a song by our band on an American Eagle in-store promo CD. One of our friends in New York saw it and really gave us some shit, and I never forgot how dumb I felt with something so inconsequential.
And worse than doctors selling out, plenty of our scientists have. (I won't bother with a comment on politicians.)