Author: thetrichordist

The AI “License” That Isn’t: A Musician’s Checklist for Spotting a Covenant Not to Sue Censorship Trap in Disguise

If you saw the adverb “forever” in a contract, would it give you pause?  It would me—I would wonder who allowed that to slip through.  As text-to-audio generative AI models desperately try to normalize their shoot-ready-aim ingestion of likely stolen works to support their next round of financing (or in some cases perhaps a VC exit by IPO), it’s likely that we will see some efforts at “licensing” reminiscent of the Napster era. “Licenses” that actually paper over the main act—stop the lawsuit before they start. What will that look like and what should we look for buried in the not so fine print?

Generative AI companies are coming to the negotiating table with “music licensing agreements” (and probably other artists’ too). That sounds encouraging — it suggests they want to do the right thing and pay for the content they use. Trust me, they don’t. What they want is to get away with it.

Not every document titled “license” actually functions like one. Some of these deals are better described as litigation insurance dressed up in licensing language, and if you sign one without reading the small print, you may be giving away far more than you realize. Because as Tom Waits taught us in the classic Step Right Up, the large print giveth and the small print taketh away.

Here’s a practical checklist of red flags to watch for if you want to look past the hype:

☐ Check Whether the “License” Actually Includes a Perpetual “Covenant Not to Sue”

A quick definitional note: a covenant not to sue is a contractual promise in which you agree in advance never to bring a legal claim against the other party — regardless of what happens, regardless of whether you even know you have a claim, and often regardless of whether the conduct at issue would otherwise be something you could sue for or get a court to stop (like with an injunction). Unlike a license, which grants permission and can expire, a covenant not to sue can be a permanent waiver of your right to seek a remedy. It’s the difference between handing someone a key to your house and signing a contract promising you’ll never call the police no matter what they do inside.

A real license gives someone permission to use your work under defined conditions, and when the term ends, so does the permission. Watch out for agreements that include a separate clause in which you irrevocably promise — both during and after the term — never to bring any claim against the company or even its users. If the covenant not only covers copyright, publicity rights, moral rights, defamation, and lawsuits over issues that may not exist yet, you are not licensing your work. You are surrendering your right to enforce your rights, permanently. Or you know, “forever.” Make sure you understand the difference before you sign.

☐ Beware a “Non-Exclusive” License That Binds Your Co-Writers

Remember the 100% licensing debacle back in 2016? Tenants-in-common co-ownership of a copyright means any co-owner can grant a non-exclusive license without the others’ consent — but that principle can be weaponized. If an agreement requires you to represent and warrant that no third-party consent is needed, and that you will not encourage your fellow songwriters to take any position inconsistent with the deal (again with the censorship), you may be dragging your co-writers into an arrangement they never agreed to. Worse, if the covenant not to sue extends to all contributors, your co-writers’ enforcement rights could be compromised by a deal they had no say in. Before you sign, make sure the AI platform isn’t leveraging TIC principles to bind people who aren’t at the table. Here’s why this matters in practice: under TIC co-ownership, a non-exclusive license granted by one co-owner is generally binding on all co-owners, even without their consent. That means if you grant a non-exclusive license — or, more critically, a covenant not to sue — covering the full composition, your co-writer may be unable to bring an infringement claim against the same company for the same use, because the company can point to your grant as a complete defense. The co-writer’s right to sue isn’t technically extinguished, but it’s rendered practically worthless. The result is that one publisher’s signature can neutralize enforcement rights across an entire song’s ownership chain. Ask your lawyer.

☐ Look for a Sweeping Pre-Signing Release

Some agreements bury a broad release of all claims arising before the effective date — known and unknown, suspected and unsuspected. That’s not a license, it’s a preemptive settlement masquerading as a license.  Worse, they may ask you to preemptively waive protections like California Civil Code Section 1542, which exists specifically to protect people in this exact situation. The statute prevents people from accidentally releasing claims they don’t yet know about. If an AI company has been training on your catalog without permission for years, a release like this could function like a contractual safe harbor and eliminate any leverage you had to seek compensation for that unauthorized use, or better yet an injunction. You know, kind of like the Music Modernization Act.  Ask yourself: why does a forward-looking license need a backward-looking release? Aside from wanting a pony.

☐ Make Sure “Training Rights” Aren’t Irrevocable in Practice

A license to include your works in a training corpus sounds civilized, but look closely at the removal mechanics (and take a class in “machine unlearning“). If the company is only required to retrain its model a limited number of times per year — say, twice — then even if you pull your catalog, your works may remain embedded in the AI model for months or even “forever”. There are no guarantees that “retraining” will actually remove your works from the model and, in fact, the literature suggests it won’t. And if the covenant not to sue survives the term for anything created while the deal was active (or before the deal was active), the training that already happened is effectively locked in. You may be inadvertently granting a right for yourself and maybe your co-writers that you can never meaningfully take back.

☐ Don’t Pre-Approve a Statutory Streaming License They May Not Be Entitled To

Some AI music platforms aspire to become full on-demand streaming services — and their agreements may include language contemplating exactly that expansion, with provisions stating the company will simply obtain a blanket mechanical license from the Mechanical Licensing Collective under 17 U.S.C. § 115(d). But whether a generative AI platform that creates synthetic music qualifies for the statutory compulsory license designed for traditional on-demand streaming is a genuinely open legal question. If you agree to terms that treat this expansion as a foregone conclusion — or worse, if your covenant not to sue or conditional authorization greenlights streaming functionality by default — you may be conceding the argument before it’s ever litigated. Don’t let an agreement’s assumptions about statutory eligibility become your assumptions. That question should be tested, not waived.

There’s a deeper problem here, too. The Section 115 compulsory license has always contained an anti-piracy prerequisite: you cannot obtain a compulsory license to use a musical composition if the sound recording you’re working from was not lawfully fixed or authorized by the sound recording’s copyright owner. If an AI platform trained its model on sound recordings it ingested without authorization (as is currently being litigated), its entire statutory license theory may be built on a foundation of infringement. The compulsory license was never designed to launder unauthorized use of sound recordings into lawful use of the compositions they embody. By agreeing to terms that treat the platform’s eligibility as settled, you may be implicitly conceding that the platform’s use of those sound recordings was authorized — a concession likely worth far more than anyone is probably paying for it and that can get you sideways with the sound recording owners.

☐ Scrutinize “Guardrail Failure” Safe Harbors

Technical safeguards — input filters, output filters, vocal classifiers — are only as good as the consequences for failure. Be wary of provisions that excuse the AI company from breach liability when its guardrails fail, so long as the failures are characterized as “inadvertent” and “de minimis” which are in the eye of the beholder and just buying a lawsuit.  If the agreement treats guardrail failures as non-breaches by default, you’ve effectively agreed that the company can produce unauthorized outputs of your works without meaningful accountability, as long as it promises to try to fix the problem after the fact with no stick if it fails.

☐ Watch Who Owns the AI Model — and Learned “Insights”

Ownership clauses in AI agreements often go further than you’d expect. The company may claim ownership not just of the AI model, but of all “insights” it learns which can be damn near anything. That “learning” is including those developed using your content. That language could be read to mean that everything the AI extracts, learns, or derives from your catalog belongs to the platform. Make sure you are not inadvertently ceding ownership of the creative intelligence embedded in your works.

☐ Don’t Let a Third Party’s Binding Calculation Determine Your Payment

I am no fan of market share revenue share deals, particularly when the revenue pool is a fixed number. Some revenue pool deals delegate the calculation of your market share — and therefore your payment — to a third party, and then declare that calculation to be binding on you, even if you had nothing to do with calculating either your market share (under the “license” not in general) or your share of the revenue or minimum guarantee. If you have no right to challenge the methodology or the math, or to audit that third party, you could be found to have agreed to be paid whatever someone else decides you’re owed, with no recourse if they get it wrong.

☐ Trace the Revenue Through Every Deduction Before Celebrating the Rate

A headline royalty rate means nothing if it’s applied to a revenue base that has already been carved down by layers of deductions including off the top fees, advertising costs, technical fees, inference compute costs, app-store commissions, performance royalties, and more. Each deduction may sound reasonable in isolation, but stacked together, they can reduce the revenue pool to a fraction of what you’d expect. Always model your actual payout, not just the stated percentage.

☐ Beware Conditional Authorizations That Expand the Deal Without Your Active Consent

Some agreements include provisions for future features such as API access, enterprise customer pricing, new product versions, downloads, or interactive streaming that automatically activate once a majority of other rightsholders sign on. If the trigger is what other labels or publishers do rather than what you approve, you may find that the scope of the license has expanded well beyond what you agreed to, without any additional negotiation or compensation.  And remember what they say about if everyone else was running off a cliff.

☐ Censorship Clauses: Don’t Agree to Never Contradict the Deal

Representation and warranty sections sometimes include a covenant that you will not take, or encourage your artists or songwriters to take, any position at any time (whether during or after the term and whether or not truthful) that is inconsistent with the hoorah narrative about AI or the applicable license. Read that carefully. It could be interpreted to prevent you — or your writers — from ever publicly criticizing the deal, advocating for stronger protections, or supporting legislation that conflicts with the agreement’s framework, even years after it expires even if the AI platform is in breach.  Aside from censoring your freedom of speech, this has nothing, and I mean nothing, to do with a license.

☐ Understand What Walled Garden Actually Means for Your Writers

A service that restricts AI-generated content to a “walled garden” with no downloads sounds contained. But if users can generate unlimited content using your works, share tracks or links to tracks across social media, and the company retains the right to expand into other product lines (including non-AI product lines like an on-demand streaming service) all within the same agreement, any “walled garden” may be pretty ephemeral.

☐ Confirm That Your Minimum Guarantee Is Actually Guaranteed

A minimum guarantee that is “fully recoupable” against future royalties is not a floor — it’s an advance. If the service underperforms, you keep the advance, but if it succeeds, the guarantee is just an interest-free loan. Make sure you understand whether the guarantee represents real minimum compensation or simply front-loaded royalties you would have earned anyway. Also, plan for both failure and success—if you’re a publisher or label, how on earth are you going to be able to account to your songwriters or artists while you’re recouping any minimum guarantee or afterwards?

☐ Demand Flow-Down Protections in the Platform’s Terms of Service

An AI platform’s Terms of Service are where your contractual protections actually meet the end user — and if the ToS doesn’t carry your rights forward, your rights may exist only on paper, if at all. Before you sign, confirm that the agreement requires the platform’s user-facing ToS to include, at a minimum:

  • An ownership disclaimer — users must acknowledge they acquire no copyright or ownership interest in AI outputs that embody your works.
  • A reverse-engineering prohibition — users must be prohibited from extracting, reconstructing, or isolating your works from the model’s outputs.
  • A downstream training restriction — users must be barred from using AI-generated outputs containing your works to train their own AI models.
  • User indemnification that flows to you — if a user misuses your works, you shouldn’t have to rely solely on the platform to make you whole.
  • A meaningful commercial-use definition and enforcement mechanism — if the deal says “personal, non-commercial use only,” the ToS needs to define what that means and impose real consequences for violations, not just account revocation. Remember, “non-commercial” has been used for text and data mining exceptions in various countries that are huge and unintended exceptions to copyright.
  • An anti-circumvention clause — users should be explicitly prohibited from attempting to bypass input/output filters and guardrails, not just prevented by technology that may fail.
  • Publisher review and approval rights over ToS language — if the agreement references ToS protections as part of your deal, you should have the right to review and approve the actual language implementing them.

If the platform isn’t required to flow these protections down to users, then the guardrails in your agreement are a ceiling, not a floor.

☐ Ask Whether Any Other Rightsholders Are Getting Equity — and Whether You Are, Too

If the agreement includes an MFN clause promising you’ll receive the “most favorable economic terms” offered to any other licensor, ask the obvious follow-up: are large rightsholders receiving equity stakes in the AI platform as part of their deals like the majors and Merlin did with Spotify? We’ve seen this movie before. When streaming platforms launched, labels negotiated equity positions that dramatically increased the total value of their agreements — value that was never shared with publishers or songwriters. If an AI company is offering stock, warrants, or other equity consideration to labels while offering publishers only cash royalties and a minimum guarantee, then the MFN clause is cosmetic. The “most favorable economic terms” aren’t favorable at all if they exclude the most valuable component of the deal. Before you accept the premise that you’re being treated equally, ask what the royalty rate would look like if nobody were getting equity. That’s the number that tells you whether the cash terms are fair on their own — or whether they’re subsidized by equity you’ll never see.

Now What: When an AI company presents you with a “licensing agreement,” read it like a litigator, not a dealmaker. (When presented with a contract, dealmakers look at the money, litigators look at the remedies.). The title of the document matters far less than what’s inside it. If the agreement includes a perpetual covenant not to sue, a retroactive release of claims, and an ownership clause that captures everything the AI learns from your work, what you’re being offered isn’t a license — it’s capitulation with a royalty attached.

Know what you’re signing. Read it yourself, don’t buy the hoorah.

by thetrichordist

This Isn’t Just Copyright—It’s Trade Discrimination Against American Creators

Readers of this blog know we’ve spent years supporting the American Music Fairness Act and its predecessor legislation, as well as the tireless efforts of the MusicFIRST Coalition and Blake Morgan’s #IRespectMusic campaign to modernize U.S. law. The argument has always been simple: the United States is virtually alone among developed nations in refusing to pay recording artists when their music is played on AM/FM radio. We’ve long argued that this is unfair to American performers.

Now it may become something even worse.

On July 8, an unusually broad coalition representing virtually every corner of the American music industry—including performers, musicians, independent labels, collecting societies, unions, songwriters’ organizations, managers, and the Recording Academy—sent a letter to U.S. Trade Representative Jamieson Greer warning that the European Commission has indicated it may consider legislation that could use this gap in U.S. law as the basis for reducing or denying royalties to American performers and record companies in Europe.

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According to the coalition, nearly $300 million in annual royalties could be at risk if Europe abandons the longstanding principle of national treatment in favor of what proponents call “material reciprocity,” the latest mercantilist dodge.  The coalition urged the Administration to oppose any such proposal as a trade matter.  They identified passage of the American Music Fairness Act as the most direct way to eliminate the rationale behind Europe’s proposed policy shift.

That makes this story about far more than royalties for broadcasts (“neighboring rights”). It is about whether a longstanding defect in U.S. copyright law is beginning to produce real economic consequences for American creators overseas—and why organizations that rarely agree have united to ask the United States government to respond and protect American creators.

What Is National Treatment?

For generations, national treatment has been one of the foundational principles of international copyright and neighboring rights. Simply put, when another country uses an American recording, American performers generally receive the same treatment that country gives its own creators. That principle has helped ensure that American musicians, background singers, session players, independent artists, and record companies receive compensation when their recordings are broadcast or publicly performed overseas.

The policy now being discussed in Europe would move away from that principle in favor of what proponents call material reciprocity. The phrase sounds technical—even fair. It is anything but straightforward.

“Material reciprocity” sounds like a neutral rule requiring countries to treat one another equally. It is more accurately an optional exception to national treatment derived from the reservation provisions of the WIPO Performances and Phonograms Treaty. The treaty permits a country to limit protection to the extent another country has limited its own remuneration right; it does not require that result.

In practice, the proposed European approach would allow royalties generated by the use of American recordings in Europe to be withheld from the American performers whose recordings generated them, based on a defect in U.S. law over which those creators have little control and have done their best to rid themselves.

In other words, Europe would not be saying American recordings have no value. Make no mistake, those recordings would still be broadcast. Broadcasters would still pay royalties. The question—as usual—would simply become who gets the money? Spoiler alert—it’s not the artist who earned the money.

Why This Is Happening

The immediate backdrop is the 2020 decision of the Court of Justice of the European Union in RAAP, which held that American performers are entitled to equitable remuneration under existing European law. Following that decision, most EU member states amended their laws to comply.

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Not everyone welcomed that result.

IMPALA, which represents independent record companies across Europe, has been among the organizations urging the European Commission to restore “material reciprocity” after RAAP. Its position is straightforward: European performers and labels should not be required to share European neighboring-rights royalties with American performers when the United States provides no comparable terrestrial radio right to Europeans—even if the U.S. performers earned those royalties in Europe.  Get it?

There is a certain irony here.

For years, supporters of the American Music Fairness Act argued that Congress should fix the terrestrial radio loophole because it unfairly denied American performers compensation at home. Now that same loophole is being cited overseas as justification for reducing compensation paid to American performers abroad.

Whether one agrees with IMPALA or not, the dispute illustrates that copyright policy increasingly operates as trade policy.

A Remarkably Broad Coalition

One of the most significant aspects of the coalition’s July 8 letter to the USTR is who signed up to it.  The coalition includes organizations representing performers, musicians, recording artists, independent labels, managers, unions, composers, songwriters, and collecting societies. These organizations represent different constituencies, pursue different priorities, and advocate competing legislative agendas.

Yet on this issue they have found common ground.  Their message is straightforward: American creators should continue receiving the same treatment in Europe that European countries provide their own creators.

That breadth of commitment is significant.

In an era when the music industry is often divided over artificial intelligence, streaming economics, licensing reform, Copyright Royalty Board proceedings, and virtually every other major policy debate, this level of agreement is unusual.

That alone should command policymakers’ attention.

This Is About More Than $300 Million

The dollar figure understandably grabs headlines.  But the larger issue is fundamental fairness.

American recordings account for a substantial share of music played on European radio—royalty generating plays on European radio. The royalties generated by those performances are not theoretical. They represent meaningful income for performers whose recordings continue to create value around the world, often years or decades after they were made.

Once governments begin replacing national treatment with reciprocity tests, the stability of international rights system begins to erode. Other countries may decide to revisit their own neighboring-rights systems, creating a patchwork of nationality-based rules that ultimately harms creators everywhere.

For many American performers—particularly independent artists, session musicians, and legacy performers—these foreign neighboring-rights royalties are not windfalls. They are earned compensation for recordings that continue to succeed internationally.

More Than Copyright: A Trade Issue

The coalition is not asking merely for a change in IP policy. It is asking the United States Trade Representative to treat this as a matter of international trade affecting American creators and one of America’s most successful cultural exports.

That is a significant development.

The music industry has long viewed copyright disputes primarily through the lens of intellectual property. This coalition letter recognizes that international copyright rules increasingly function as trade rules as well. Decisions made in Brussels can directly affect the income of American creators and the competitiveness of American cultural exports.  As the coalition letter states:

National treatment has long been a cornerstone of the global copyright system, ensuring American creators—including recording artists, musicians, and performers—are treated no less favorably than domestic rightsholders abroad. The Commission’s proposed shift to reciprocity would condition these protections on U.S. law, replacing a clear, rules-based system with one that is fragmented, uncertain and would directly disadvantage U.S. creators in foreign markets….Left unchecked, this approach will erode nondiscrimination principles, invite retaliatory measures, and weaken transatlantic cooperation on intellectual property.

The central trade question is not difficult to understand: should a foreign government be permitted to collect royalties generated by the exploitation of American recordings while denying those royalties to the American performers and producers whose work generated them?  Again from the letter:

USTR has already taken an important step by placing the European Union on the Special 301 Watch List. We encourage the Administration to build on this action by fully leveraging available trade tools—including sustained bilateral engagement, coordinated multilateral pressure, and, if necessary, targeted enforcement measures—to prevent the adoption of material reciprocity and ensure compliance with national treatment obligations.

Calling that result “material reciprocity” does not make it any less discriminatory in practice.

Why This Is Significant

International copyright rarely receives widespread public attention until the consequences become irreversible.  

The debate over artificial intelligence has reminded us how quickly longstanding norms can come under pressure. Whether the issue is AI training, streaming economics, or neighboring rights, the underlying question remains remarkably consistent:

Will creators continue to receive fair compensation when others profit from their work?

When the Industry Speaks With One Voice

The music industry rarely agrees on anything. Artists and record labels disagree. Major labels and independent labels disagree. Managers, unions, publishers, collecting societies, and digital services often find themselves on opposite sides of legislative and regulatory debates. That is precisely why this coalition is important..

Organizations representing performers, musicians, managers, independent labels, unions, composers, and collecting societies, have all concluded that this issue deserves the immediate attention of the United States government. Whether the European Commission ultimately moves forward with legislation remains to be seen. But the coalition deserves credit for bringing the issue to the attention of the U.S. Trade Representative before any formal legislative proposal has been introduced.

If nothing else, the letter serves as an early warning that international copyright policy and international trade policy are becoming increasingly intertwined—and that decisions made in Brussels can have significant consequences for American creators.

For now, the most important takeaway is simple: pay attention. The music industry rarely speaks with one voice. When it does, policymakers should listen.

This is a story worth watching, and we’ll continue to follow it as it develops.

by thetrichordist

Europe at the Crossroads: Will the Law Strengthen Authors’ Rights or Surrender the “Crown Jewels” of Human Creativity? @Helienne Lindvall’s ECSA Keynote

[An important keynote from Helienne Lindvall, President of the European Composer and Songwriter Alliance, on why creators’ consent, transparency, and fair remuneration must remain central in the AI era. The keynote was presented as part of the European Composer & Songwriter Alliance (ECSA) conference on “Authors’ Rights and Music Streaming in the Age of AI”, which focused on generative AI and the future of music creators’ rights in Europe

Good afternoon to every one of you, whether you’re here in this room or joining us online. It is a pleasure to welcome you all here today and I want to thank MEDAA, la Maison européenne des Autrices et des Auteurs, for hosting today’s ECSA conference on “Authors’ Rights and Music Streaming in the Age of AI”. ]

I am Helienne Lindvall, songwriter and the President of ECSA, the European Composer and Songwriter Alliance. ECSA represents 57 professional music authors’ associations and more than 30,000 composers across 29 European countries. I am honoured to be here today with fellow composers, songwriters, policymakers, and representatives from Europe’s cultural and creative sectors.

I am particularly grateful to welcome Henna Virkkunen, the Executive Vice-President for Technological Sovereignty, Security, and Democracy at the European Commission. Ms. Virkkunen – thank you again for joining us. We are all looking forward to hearing your opening remarks in just a moment.

I also want to thank three Members of the European Parliament for their participation: Emma Rafowicz, co-rapporteur on the Agora EU programme, Axel Voss, rapporteur on the recent report on copyright and generative AI, and Hélder Sousa Silva, who will draft the forthcoming report on the Cultural and creative sectors in the age of AI.

We would also like to express our deepest gratitude to all the speakers who will contribute their time and expertise today. And remember that this conference would not be possible without the support of the Creative Europe programme.

So, Authors’ Rights and Music Streaming in the Age of AI? Let me first take a step back to 2016. Ten years ago, the European Commission President, Jean-Claude Juncker, called artists and creators “Europe’s crown jewels”. He said their works should be protected and they should be paid fairly.

Three years later, the EU adopted the Directive on Copyright in the Digital Single Market. We applauded it, for enshrining appropriate and proportionate remuneration, for increasing transparency in contracts, and for strengthening author’s rights on content-sharing platforms. Seven years on, where do we stand?

Well, the truth is that the principle of appropriate and proportionate remuneration is still too often circumvented in practice, in particular through buyout practices, but also when it comes to other online exploitation, such as streaming.

And then came generative AI. Adopted at a time when generative AI was barely existing, the Directive does not mention AI anywhere.

But it does include text and data mining exceptions, designed to help universities and researchers, discover new trends and gaining new knowledge. Supposedly with minimal harm to authors and other rightholders.

The reality? When not simply ignoring EU rules, global AI companies have exploited those exceptions far beyond their intended purpose. They’ve scraped and used all our works without consent, without transparency, and without remuneration. The harm to music authors isn’t minimal—it’s maximal. AI-generated content now imitates and substitutes us.

Some say “You could have opted out.” But here’s the truth: AI companies scraped everything – looting the entire history of musical works – before we had a fair chance to opt out and even know how to opt out.

To quote Baroness Beeban Kidron, the director of Bridget Jones The Edge of Reason: “Should shopkeepers have to opt out of shoplifters? Should victims of violence have to opt out of attacks? Should those who use the internet for banking have to opt out of fraud? I struggle to think of another situation where someone protected by law must proactively wrap it around themselves on an individual basis.”

And for a songwriter like me—working with co-writers, different CMOs, publishers, and labels—opting out is practically impossible. And even if it was possible, we would be naive to believe it would be respected. How would we even know if it were, when there is no transparency?

The AI Act’s implementation hasn’t helped. Its transparency rules are weak. Trade secrets protect massive theft. Imagine a fast-food manufacturer who had stolen all the ingredients that went into their products, refusing to reveal what the ingredients are or where they came from, calling it a “trade secret”. Then demanding it should be up to the farmers to prove it was their produce that was stolen. That’s what we’re dealing with.

Coca Cola may have a secret recipe, but it still has to display what went into each bottle, and pay its suppliers. It shouldn’t be up to creators to prove AI companies used our works. They should be required to get our consent and to be transparent. Or we should presume — correctly — that they already scraped the entire web.

Yes, a few licensing deals have been signed in the past year — between a couple of major labels and AI companies, usually after litigation, and mostly in the US. But we know next to nothing about the details of those deals – or whether composers and songwriters will benefit in any way, despite it being our works that have been stolen and exploited.

Licensing shouldn’t only be available to those with the muscle to sue. In Europe, where we claim to cherish our artists and cultural diversity, survival of the fittest cannot be the answer. AI companies have ingested ALL the music available online. It makes no sense that only the most powerful get a license and get paid, when they only supplied a fraction of the ingredients. And let me be clear: we are not against AI. It can be a helpful tool in our workflow as creators. We are simply against unlicensed AI.

Generative AI companies must act ethically. They must work with us—not profit from our work without consent and at our expense. That’s the only way to rebuild trust between creators and AI companies. Currently, the AI landscape is like the Wild West, and AI startups that want to act ethically cannot compete when there is a shop next door selling stolen goods.

Let’s be honest, the current framework is misinterpreted and applied far beyond its original purpose. It has created a high level of uncertainty that only benefits global generative AI companies to the detriment of creators. We cannot wait for courts to decide policy. We cannot rely on opaque deals between big corporations where the money rarely trickles down to creators.

This isn’t the time for sticking plasters [or Band Aids] on a wooden leg. It’s time for policymakers to be bold. The good news: not only the Pope but also many EU Member States and the European Parliament are showing the way. The recent Voss report on Copyright and Generative AI recognizes that AI systems rely massively on protected works—exploited without authorization or compensation. It recommends:

• Full transparency for AI training, including a rebuttable presumption of use for any AI service operating in the EU; and

• A new legislative initiative to clarify licensing rules and establish a functioning market.

We fully support this. We need a framework that:

1. Enables fair remuneration for creators

2. Ensures EU copyright law applies to all services operating in the EU.

3. Addresses the substitution and dilution of human creation by AI output

4. Ensures collective management can deliver appropriate and proportionate remuneration to all creators—big and small

The Parliament has also insisted that digital platforms must act against AI fraud and manipulation. And it is not the first time – the European Parliament’s report on music streaming, adopted in 2024, already did so, with many other recommendations to improve the identification of creators on music streaming platforms and ensure more transparency in algorithms and recommendation systems, as well as when it comes to AI generated music.

For composers and songwriters, streaming fraud through AI is a critical issue. In April, Deezer reported that 75,000 fully AI-generated tracks are uploaded daily to the platform – that’s 44% of all uploads. In March, a man in the US pleaded guilty to defrauding streaming platforms with AI-generated tracks, generating millions in royalties. Fraudsters impersonate real artists, upload fake songs to their profiles, and steal their royalties. This isn’t just an economic issue. It’s ethical – it’s a massive violation of moral rights and personal data.

And it threatens citizens’ trust in the authenticity of digital content. That’s one of the many reasons why we welcome MEPs Rafowicz and Kuhnke’s draft report on AgoraEU, which rightly prioritizes human creativity over AI-generated works.

We also warmly welcome this proposal for a dedicated music strand that can address the concrete challenges and structural imbalances impacting the sector, such as increasing market concentration, artistic freedom, fair remuneration and the growing dominance of digital service providers.

Today, 26 organisations from across the European music sector published a statement to support this draft report and encourage all MEPs to give the music sector the support it deserves.

Now, let me conclude: Our plea today is simple: The promise made to Europe’s crown jewels in 2016 remains unfulfilled: The exceptions designed to help researchers and generate information now fuel billion-dollar companies that exploit us. The transparency we were promised is hidden behind trade secrets. The licensing market that should exist is reserved for those who can afford the most expensive lawyers in the US. This must change.

We call on European policymakers to act with courage. With the European Parliament, we call for an additional legal framework, one that can finally uphold the key principles of transparency, consent and remuneration and encourage a well-functioning licensing market. This is not about adding more regulation This is to rebalance a framework that is fundamentally flawed, far from its intended purpose and Europe’s most fundamental values.

Europe must decide: will it stand with its creators, or stand by while our works are taken without consent? Let us become once again Europe’s crown jewels.

Please. Let’s make this true. Thank you.

by thetrichordist

Don’t Freeze Mechanicals Again

The compulsory mechanical license was created by Congress in the Copyright Act of 1909 as a response to the rise of player pianos and piano rolls, which threatened to place control of a new music reproduction technology in the hands of a few dominant companies. To prevent monopoly control, Congress established a compulsory license allowing anyone to reproduce a musical composition upon payment of a statutory royalty. That royalty was set at 2 cents per song. Remarkably, the 2-cent rate remained unchanged for nearly seven decades, surviving the birth of commercial radio, records, tapes, and the modern recording industry until the Copyright Act of 1976. Given that the dominant music users are either monopolies themselves or effectively monopolies (Google, Amazon, Spotify), the entire purpose of the compulsory license seems laughable today, but oh, well—they’re from Washington and they’re here to help.

The Copyright Act of 1976 did more than end the 2-cent mechanical royalty freeze. It established a framework for periodic review of statutory rates so that songwriters would not again be trapped for generations at a rate set by Congress decades earlier. Over time, Congress refined that system, eventually replacing ad hoc adjustment proceedings with the modern Copyright Royalty Board (CRB). Today, the CRB conducts recurring rate-setting proceedings that evaluate economic conditions and marketplace developments. While the process is often contentious, the result has generally been upward movement in mechanical royalties, reflecting inflation, changing markets, and the enduring value of musical works.

USCO Mechanical Rates -w- SupplementDownload

The next mechanical royalty rate-setting hearings before the Copyright Royalty Board are upon us (called “Phonorecords V” follow it here). Like so many other aspects of the CRB, it seems that awareness of the hearing varies inversely to its economic importance for songwriters—meaning that the more it affects your pocketbook, the fewer people appear to know about it. Let’s see if we can change that dynamic.

The CRB will set rates for streaming mechanicals, a whole saga unto itself, but the Board also sets rates for the sale of physical records like vinyl and permanent downloads. It was these rates that created a dust up the last time around in Phonorecords IV, because the first tentative settlement was rejected by the Judges. Had the Judges not rejected the first settlement, the insiders would have frozen the physical/download rates for another five years in addition to the freeze that was already in place since 2006 for a total of 21 years.

The PR V resolution should be simple: whatever inflation-adjusted rate that is in effect at the end of the Phonorecords IV rate period should become the starting point for the next rate period in Phonorecords V. Why? Because the CRJs proposed the 12¢ PR IV base reference rate (plus COLA) as a compromise recognizing that the statutory rate had not been adjusted for inflation from 2006 through 2023. Having adopted an actual inflation-adjusted rate through a revised settlement in PR IV, choosing to revert to 12¢ in 2026 for PR V would effectively disregard the very rationale that justified the compromise in the first place. There’s nothing economically magical about a 12¢ rate in 2022 that should inform a new rate in 2028.

Yet there is a risk that some stakeholders may argue that the 12¢ reference rate established in Phonorecords IV should remain the permanent benchmark and that future proceedings should effectively restart from that 12¢ figure even though they know that the real rate is actually the inflation adjusted rate. This is the kind of thing lawyers come up with and is completely divorced from reality.

We explain the frozen mechanicals crisis from 2022

If the CPI-adjusted rate reaches approximately 13.6¢ by 2027, as current inflation projections suggest, such a 12¢ approach would amount to an immediate reduction in songwriter and publisher compensation. Rough justice, that 12¢ rate would actually be worth around 11¢ today, so asking for a 12¢ reference rate is like saying would you take 11 which would be roughly a 20% reduction. That would make little sense economically, legally, or as a matter of regulatory policy.

The key point is that the annual CPI adjustments adopted in Phonorecords IV are not temporary bonuses. They are part of the rate structure. The Judges did not establish a 12¢ rate and then provide a series of discretionary supplements. Rather, they established a rate that increases annually according to a defined formula. The resulting rate is the actual statutory royalty rate in effect at the time. If the rate reaches 13.6¢ in 2027, then 13.6¢ is the reference rate for PR V.

Resetting the benchmark to 12¢ would create a downward ratchet unlike anything that participants in a functioning market would expect not to mention in the post-1978 history of the Copyright Act. Songwriters and publishers would receive annual increases throughout the rate period only to see those increases erased at the start of the next one. Such a result would be arbitrary and would undermine confidence in the stability of the statutory license.

For years, the mechanical royalty remained frozen at 9.1¢ while inflation steadily eroded its economic value. Phonorecords IV represented an acknowledgment that perpetual freezes are difficult to justify in a modern economy. It would be strange indeed if the solution to one rate freeze were simply to create another.

There is also a practical problem. If the statutory rate can be reset downward whenever a new proceeding begins, then the annual CPI adjustment becomes less meaningful. Parties will spend years litigating a rate structure only to find that the resulting increases can be wiped away at the start of the next cycle. That is not how durable rate regulation is supposed to work.

The cleaner approach is the obvious one. The final rate in effect during one period should become the reference rate for the next period unless the evidentiary record demonstrates that a different rate is warranted. This is how the rate was set from 1978 to 2006 and how most regulated systems operate. The existing rate serves as the baseline, and adjustments are made from there.

The issue is ultimately one of continuity. The statutory mechanical royalty should evolve through evidence-based proceedings, not through accounting tricks that erase previously awarded increases. If the rate reaches 13.6¢ in 2027, then 13.6¢ should become the starting point for the next rate period.

The rate clock should move forward, not backward. A songwriter named Hoyt Axton worked his tail off getting the rate on a track to increase with the passing of the 1976 Copyright Act. And I for one will never forget him.

[A version of this post first appeared on MusicTechPolicy]

by thetrichordist

The Growing Backlash Against AI Data Centers: Local Resistance and the Infrastructure Crunch

As we’ve reported many times, communities across the US are increasingly pushing back against the explosive growth of AI-driven data centers. Major concerns include skyrocketing electricity demand, massive water consumption for cooling, noise pollution from giant fans, loss of prime agricultural and residential land, and rising utility bills passed on to local residents. As of May 2026, independent trackers report approximately 69–78 U.S. jurisdictions that have enacted bans, restrictions, or moratoriums on new data centers. Many of these measures also target the new high-voltage transmission lines required to power them.

This wave of resistance highlights a deepening tension between the rapid expansion of AI infrastructure and local priorities around quality of life, sustainability, and community control.

1. Michigan: The Epicenter of Local Moratoriums

I think you could safely say that Michigan currently leads the nation in local opposition to data center construction, largely triggered by the controversial $16+ billion OpenAI-Oracle Stargate AI data center project in Saline Township, Washtenaw County. Despite a 4-1 township planning commission vote against rezoning and strong resident protests, the Stargate construction project advanced through legal channels, igniting widespread defensive actions across the state.

  • More than 50 communities (cities and townships) have enacted temporary moratoriums, covering roughly 1,500 square miles — an area comparable to the size of Rhode Island.
  • Between 25 and 51 active local moratoriums are in place as of early 2026.
  • State lawmakers have introduced bills (HB 5594–5596) calling for a one-year statewide pause on new hyperscale data centers, along with stricter rules on water and electricity connections.
  • Some utilities, such as Ypsilanti, have imposed their own 12-month bans on water hookups for large AI facilities—but that will eventually expire.

Key issues in Michigan should sound familiar: massive water usage, strain on the electrical grid, and the loss of local zoning authority.

2. Virginia: Transmission Line Battles in “Data Center Alley”

Virginia is home to the highest concentration of data centers in the United States (over 550 facilities), particularly in Northern Virginia. Opposition here focuses heavily on both the data centers and the extensive transmission lines needed to support them.

  • Strong protests in Loudoun, Prince William, Hanover, and other counties against new projects and expansions.
  • Major conflicts over high-voltage lines such as the Valley Link and Joshua Falls projects, which cross multiple counties and impact neighborhoods, historic sites, and conserved rural land.
  • Dominion Energy has faced repeated legal and community challenges regarding route selections.
  • Legislative debates continue over ending billions in tax incentives and studies projecting residential electricity rate increases of up to $37 per month by 2040.
Breakfast at Buck’s of Woodside—if you’re not at the table you are on the menu

3. Georgia: Statewide Pause Efforts Amid High Project Volume

Georgia has seen hundreds of announced data center projects, prompting both local and statewide responses.

  • Bills such as HB 1059 and HB 1012 propose temporary statewide pauses on new permitting (potentially until 2027–2028) to allow time for impact studies.
  • Several counties, including DeKalb and Camden, have passed moratoriums ranging from several months to a year while updating zoning ordinances.
  • Residents voice concerns about energy costs, water consumption, loss of land, and whether tax incentives truly benefit local communities.

Georgia’s combination of legislative proposals and county-level actions reflects growing resistance in a rapidly developing market.

4. North Carolina: Rising Local and Policy Pushback

North Carolina ranks among the top states for new moratorium activity as data center developers expand beyond traditional East Coast hubs.

  • Multiple counties and municipalities have passed restrictions or temporary moratoriums citing infrastructure strain, zoning issues, and community impacts.
  • Policy proposals such as HB 1063 seek to require hyperscale developers to fully cover the costs of power, water, and grid upgrades rather than passing them to ratepayers.
  • Growing focus on the environmental and visual effects of both data centers and supporting transmission lines.

North Carolina represents an emerging hotspot where early local actions may shape future statewide policy.

5. Indiana: County-Level Resistance and High-Stakes Conflicts

Indiana has seen intense localized opposition, particularly in rural counties.

  • Counties such as White and Fulton have enacted 6-to-12-month moratoriums to study impacts and strengthen local ordinances.
  • Trackers show at least 6 formal actions, with several others in discussion.
  • Primary concerns include the conversion of prime agricultural land, rising utility rates, and the industrialization of rural communities.

Indiana illustrates how even mid-sized proposals can trigger strong community responses and political tension.

Broader Implications and the Path Forward

The five most active states — Michigan, Virginia, Georgia, North Carolina, and Indiana — capture the national picture. Resistance is bipartisan, spans urban and rural areas, and increasingly includes opposition to the massive transmission lines that accompany data center projects.

Common themes include fears that data centers consume disproportionate amounts of power and water while shifting costs onto existing residents. Proponents argue these facilities bring jobs, tax revenue, and are essential for America’s AI competitiveness. Critics insist that growth must be responsible, with full cost recovery, better siting practices, efficiency standards, and genuine community input.

As AI demand continues to surge, this local “revolt” tests whether the physical infrastructure can scale fast enough without compromising quality of life and environmental goals. I think the national consensus is a big no.

Expect more moratoriums, ballot initiatives, legal battles, and negotiations in the coming months. The outcome will significantly influence not only the future of AI but also national energy policy and land-use planning for years to come.

by thetrichordist

Mýa Backs AMFA as Momentum Builds for Fair Pay for Radio Play

L-R: SX CEO Mike Huppe, Mya, House Minority Leader Rep. Hakeem Jeffries

Momentum around the American Music Fairness Act is building, and that’s a good thing. When Michael Huppe says artists not being paid for terrestrial radio airplay is “flat out wrong,” he’s right. The American Music Fairness Act (AMFA) closes the loop on Congress’s work beginning in 1995 to create a digital performance right in sound recordings. It extends that framework to terrestrial radio, ensuring artists and sound recording owners are paid consistently across platforms while preserving protections for small and local broadcasters.

The U.S. remains an outlier globally, denying performers a basic neighboring right recognized nearly everywhere else. Mýa’s presence underscores what’s at stake: real artists, real livelihoods. AMFA is about correcting a structural imbalance—one that has allowed broadcasters to monetize recordings without compensating those who made them. We appreciate the growing number of leaders in Congress working to get this right.

For more information on the American Music Fairness Act and the broader policy effort to align U.S. law with global norms, see the musicFIRST Coalition. They track the legislation, outline the issues, and provide a way to stay informed or engage if you choose.

by thetrichordist

@RonanFarrow and @AndrewMarantz: Sam Altman May Control Our Future—Can He Be Trusted?

Ronan Farrow and Andrew Marantz investigate Sam Altman’s leadership of OpenAI, based on internal documents and more than 100 interviews. They center on a core tension: Altman has positioned himself as a steward of humanity’s most powerful technology, yet many colleagues and insiders question whether he can be trusted with that responsibility. Internal memos compiled by senior figures—including chief scientist Ilya Sutskever—allege a pattern of misleading statements and evasiveness, particularly around AI safety and governance.  Shocking, ain’t it?

The piece traces OpenAI’s evolution from a nonprofit founded to prioritize safety over profit into a commercially driven company pursuing massive scale and valuation. Along the way, Altman is portrayed as highly ambitious, politically savvy, and willing to push boundaries—sometimes at the expense of transparency or institutional safeguards. 

It also situates these concerns within the broader stakes of artificial general intelligence: if such systems emerge, the individuals controlling them could wield unprecedented global power. The article ultimately raises an unresolved question—whether the rapid centralization of technological authority in a single leader and company is compatible with the level of trust and accountability that such power demands.

Read it on the New Yorker.

by thetrichordist

Victory in the Vetter v. Resnik Lawsuit: Artist Rights, Songwriter Advocacy, and the Power of Termination

At the center of Vetter v. Resnik are songwriters reclaiming what Congress promised them in a detailed and lengthy legislative negotiation over the 1976 revision to the Copyright Act—a meaningful second chance to terminate what the courts call “unremunerative transfers,” aka crappy deals. That principle comes into sharp focus through Cyril Vetter, whose perseverance brought this case to the Fifth Circuit, and Cyril’s attorney Tim Kappel, whose decades-long advocacy for songwriter rights helped frame the issues not as abstractions, but as lived realities.

Cyril won his case against his publisher at trial in a landmark judicial ruling by Chief Judge Shelly Dick. His publisher appealed Judge Dick’s ruling to the Fifth Circuit. As readers will remember, oral arguments in the case were earlier this year. A bunch of songwriter and author groups including the Artist Rights Institute filed “friend of the court” briefs in the case in favor of Cyril.

In a unanimous opinion, the United States Court of Appeals for the Fifth Circuit affirmed Judge Shelly Dick’s carefully reasoned trial-court ruling, holding that when an author terminates a worldwide grant, the recapture also worldwide. It is not artificially limited to U.S. territory only, which had been the industry practice. The court understood that anything less would hollow out Congress’s intent.

It is often said that the whole point of the termination law is to give authors (including songwriters) a “second bite at the apple”. Which is why the Artist Rights Institute wrote (and was quoted by the 5th Circuit) that limiting the reversion to US rights only is a “second bite at half the apple” which was the opposite of Congressional intent.

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What made this 5th Circuit decision especially meaningful for the creative community is that the Fifth Circuit did not reach it in a vacuum. Writing for the panel, Judge Carl Stewart expressly quoted the Artist Rights Institute amicus brief, observing:

“Denying terminating authors the full return of a worldwide grant leaves them with only half of the apple—the opposite of congressional intent.”

That sentence—simple, vivid, and unmistakably human—captured what this case has always been about.

ARI.Amicus.Vetter.Final RDownload



The Artist Rights Institute’s amicus brief did not appear overnight. It grew out of a longstanding relationship between songwriter advocate Tim Kappel and Chris Castle, a collaboration shaped over many years by shared concern for how statutory rights actually function—or fail to function—for creators in the real world.

When the Vetter appeal crystallized the stakes, that history mattered. It allowed ARI to move quickly, confidently, and with credibility—translating dense statutory language into a narrative to help courts understand that termination rights are supposed to restore leverage, not preserve a publisher’s foreign control veto through technicalities.

Crucially, the brief was inspired and strengthened by the voices of songwriter advocates and heirs, including Abby North (heir of composer Alex North), Blake Morgan (godson of songwriter Lesley Gore), and Angela Rose White (heir of legendary music director David Rose) and of course David Lowery and Nikki Rowling. The involvement of these heirs ensured the court understood context—termination is not merely about renegotiating deals for living authors. It is often about families, estates, and heirs—people for whom Congress explicitly preserved termination rights as a matter of intergenerational fairness.

The Fifth Circuit’s opinion reflects that understanding. By rejecting a cramped territorial reading of termination, the court avoided a result that would have undermined heirs’ rights just as surely as authors’ rights.

Vetter v. Resnik represents a rare and welcome alignment: an author willing to press his statutory rights all the way, advocates who understood the lived experience behind those rights, a district judge who took Congress at its word, and an appellate court willing to say plainly that “half of the apple” is not enough.

For the Artist Rights Institute, it was an honor to participate—to stand alongside Cyril Vetter, Tim Kappel, and the community of songwriter advocates and heirs whose experiences shaped a brief that helped the court see the full picture.

And for artists, songwriters, and their families, the decision stands as a reminder that termination rights mean what Congress said they mean—a real chance to reclaim ownership, not an illusion bounded by geography.

by thetrichordist

2026 Music Predictions: The Legal and Policy Fault Lines Ahead

By Chris Castle

I was grateful to Hypebot for publishing my 2026 music‑industry predictions, which focused on the legal and structural pressures already reshaping the business. For regular readers, I’m reposting those predictions here—and adding a few more that follow directly from the policy work, regulatory engagement, and royalty‑system scrutiny we’ve been immersed in over the past year with the Artist Rights Institute. These additional observations are less about trend‑spotting and more about where the underlying legal and institutional logic appears to be heading next.

1. AI Copyright Litigation Will Move From Abstract Theory to Operational Discovery

In 2026, the center of gravity in AI‑copyright cases will shift toward discovery that exposes how models are trained, weighted, filtered, and monetized. Courts will increasingly treat AI systems as commercial products rather than research experiments, and discovery fights for the good of humanity…ahem…rather than summary judgment rhetoric. The result will be pressure on platforms to settle, license, or restructure before full disclosure occurs particularly since it’s becoming increasingly likely that every frontier AI lab as ripped off the world’s culture the old fashioned way—they stole it off the Internet.

The next round of AI copyright litigation will come from fans: As more deals are done with AI like the Disney/Sora deal, fans who use Sora or other AI to create separatable rights with AI (like new characters, new story lines) or even new universes with old story lines (like maybe new versions of the Luke/Darth/Hans/Leia arc in the Old West) will start to get the idea that their IP is…well…their IP. If it’s used without compensating them or getting their permission, that whole copyright thing is going to start to get real for them.

2. Streaming Platforms Will Face Structural Payola Scrutiny, Not Just Royalty Complaints

Minimum‑payment thresholds, bundled offerings, and “greater‑of” formulas will no longer be treated as isolated business choices. Regulators and courts will begin to examine how these mechanisms function together to shift risk onto artists while preserving platform margins. Antitrust, consumer‑protection, and unfair‑competition theories will increasingly converge around the same conduct. Due to Spotify’s market dominance and intimidation factor for majors and big to medium sized independent labels, these cases will have to come from independent artists.

3. The Copyright Office Will Approve a Conditional Redesignation of the MLC

Rather than granting an unconditional redesignation of the Mechanical Licensing Collective, the Copyright Office is likely to impose conditions tied to governance, transparency, and financial stewardship. This approach allows continuity for licensees while asserting supervisory authority grounded in the statute. The message will be clear: designation is provisional, not permanent.

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4. The MLC’s Gundecked Investment Policy Will Be Unwound or Materially Rewritten

The practice of investing unmatched royalties as a pooled asset is becoming legally and politically indefensible. In 2026, expect the investment policy to be unwound or rewritten by new regulations to require pass‑through of gains, or strict capital‑preservation limits. Once framed as a fiduciary issue rather than a finance strategy, the current model cannot survive intact.

It’s also worth noting that the MLC’s investment portfolio has grown so large ($1.212 billion) that its investment income reported on its 2023 tax return has also grown to an amount in excess of its operating costs as measured by the administrative assessment paid by licensees.

5. An MLC Independent Royalty‑Accounting and Systems Review Will Become Inevitable

As part of a conditional redesignation, the Copyright Office may require an end‑to‑end operational review of the MLC by a top‑tier royalty‑accounting firm. Unlike a SOC report, such a review would examine whether matching, data logic, and distributions actually produce correct outcomes. Once completed, that analysis would shape litigation, policy reform, and future oversight.

6. Foreign CMOs Will Push Toward Licensee‑Pays Models

Outside the U.S., collective management organizations face rising technology costs and political scrutiny over compensation. In response, many will explore shifting more costs to licensees rather than members, reframing CMOs as infrastructure providers. Ironically, the U.S. MLC experiment may accelerate this trend abroad given the MLC’s rich salaries and vast resources for developing poorly implemented tech.

These developments are not speculative in the abstract. They follow from incentives already in motion, records already being built, and institutions increasingly unable to rely on deference alone.

7.  Environmental Harms of AI Become a Core Climate Issue

We will start to see the AI labs normalize the concept of private energy generation on a massive scale to support data centers built in current green spaces.  If they build or buy electric plants they do not intend to share.  This whole thing about they will build small nuclear reactors and sell excess back to the local grid is crazy—there won’t be any excess and what about their behavior over the last 25 years makes you think they’ll share a thing?

So some time after Los Angeles rezones Griffith Park commercial and sells the Greek Theater to Google for a new data center and private nuclear reactor and Facebook buys the Diablo Canyon reactor, the Music Industry Climate Collective will formally integrate AI’s ecological footprint into their national and international policy agendas. After mounting evidence of data‑center water depletion, aquifer stress, and grid destabilization — particularly in drought‑prone regions — climate coalitions will conceptually reclassify AI infrastructure as a high‑impact industrial activity.

This will become acute after people realize they cannot expect the state or federal government to require new state permitting regimes because of the overwhelming political influence of Big Tech in the form of AI Viceroy-for-Life David Sacks. (He’s not going anywhere in a post-Trump era.). This will lead to environmental‑justice litigation over siting decisions and pressure to require reporting of AI‑related energy, water, and land use.

8.  Criminal RICO Case Against StubHub and Affiliated Resale Networks

By late 2026, the Department of Justice brings a landmark criminal RICO indictment targeting StubHub‑linked reseller networks and individual reseller financiers for systemic ticketing fraud and money laundering. The enterprise theory alleges that major resellers, platform intermediaries, lenders, and bot‑operators coordinated to engage in wire fraud, market manipulation, speculative ticketing, and deceptive consumer practices at international scale. Prosecutors present evidence of an organized structure that used bots, fabricated scarcity, misrepresentation of seat availability, and price‑fixing algorithms to inflate profits.

This becomes the first major criminal RICO prosecution in the secondary‑ticketing economy and triggers parallel state‑level investigations and civil RICO suits. Public resellers like StubHub will face shareholder lawsuits and securities fraud allegations.

Just another bright sunshiny day.

[A version of this post first appeared on MusicTechPolicy]




by thetrichordist

NYT: Silicon Valley’s Man in the White House Is Benefiting Himself and His Friends

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The New York Times published a sprawling investigation into David Sacks’s role as Trump’s A.I. and crypto czar. We’ve talked about David Sacks a few times on these pages. The Times’ piece is remarkable in scope and reporting: a venture capitalist inside the White House, steering chip policy, promoting deregulation, raising money for Trump, hosting administration events through his own podcast brand, and retaining hundreds of A.I. and crypto investments that stand to benefit from his policy work.

But for all its detail, the Times buried the lede.

The bigger story isn’t just ethics violations. or outright financial corruption. It’s that Sacks is simultaneously shaping and shielding the largest regulatory power grab in history: the A.I. moratorium and its preemption structure.

Of all the corrupt anecdotes in the New York Times must read article regarding Viceroy and leading Presidential pardon candidate David Sacks, they left out the whole AI moratorium scam, focusing instead on the more garden variety of self-dealing and outright conflicts of interest that are legion. My bet is that Mr. Sacks reeks so badly that it is hard to know what to leave out. Here’s a couple of examples:

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There is a deeper danger that the Times story never addresses: the long-term damage that will outlive David Sacks himself. Even if Sacks eventually faces investigations or prosecution for unrelated financial or securities matters — if he does — the real threat isn’t what happens to him. It’s what happens to the legal architecture he is building right now.

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If he succeeds in blocking state-law prosecutions and freezing A.I. liability for a decade, the harms won’t stop when he leaves office. They will metastasize.

Without state enforcement, A.I. companies will face no meaningful accountability for:

  • child suicide induced by unregulated synthetic content
  • mass copyright theft embedded into permanent model weights
  • biometric and voiceprint extraction without consent
  • data-center sprawl that overwhelms local water, energy, and zoning systems
  • surveillance architectures exported globally
  • algorithmic harms that cannot be litigated under preempted state laws

These harms don’t sunset when an administration ends. They calcify. It must also be said that Sacks could face state securities-law liability — including fraud, undisclosed self-dealing, and market-manipulative conflicts tied to his A.I. portfolio — because state blue-sky statutes impose duties possibly stricter than federal law. The A.I. moratorium’s preemption would vaporize these claims, shielding exactly the conduct state regulators are best positioned to police. No wonder he’s so committed to sneaking it into federal law.

The moratorium Sacks is pushing would prevent states from acting at the very moment when they are the only entities with the political will and proximity to regulate A.I. on the ground. If he succeeds, the damage will last long after Sacks has left his government role — long after his podcast fades, long after his investment portfolio exits, long after any legal consequences he might face.

The public will be living inside the system he designed.

There is one final point the public needs to understand. DavidSacksis not an anomaly. Sacks is to Trump what Eric Schmidt was to Biden: the industry’s designated emissary, embedded inside the White House to shape federal technology policy from the inside out. Swap the party labels and the personnel change, but the structural function remains the same. Remember, Schmidt bragged about writing the Biden AI executive order.

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So don’t think that if Sacks is pushed out, investigated, discredited, or even prosecuted one day — if he is — that the problem disappears. You don’t eliminate regulatory capture by removing the latest avatar of it. The next administration will simply install a different billionaire with a different portfolio and the same incentives: protect industry, weaken oversight, preempt the states, and expand the commercial reach of the companies they came in with.

The danger is not David Sacks the individual. The danger is the revolving door that lets tech titans write national A.I. policy while holding the assets that benefit from it. As much as Trump complains of the “deep state,” he’s doing his best to create the deepest of deep states.

Until that underlying structure changes, it won’t matter whether it’s Sacks, Schmidt, Thiel, Musk, Palihapitiya, or the next “technocratic savior.”

The system will keep producing them — and the public will keep paying the price. For as Sophocles taught us, it is not in our power to escape the curse.

by thetrichordist