Author: thetrichordist

@ArtistRights Symposium 5 Panel: Beware the AI Opt-In: Hidden Right of Publicity Waivers

Registration is open for Artist Rights Symposium 5 at Eventbrite!

The Artist Rights Symposium 5 is coming on October 19 at Tweed Recording in Athens, GA hosted by the University of Georgia Terry College of Business Music Certificate Program and the School of Policy and International Affairs, and the Artist Rights Institute. More about the Symposium here and register on Eventbrite here.

As AI companies like Suno and Udio settle copyright lawsuits with record companies and music publishers, they introduce new licensing arrangements. Artists and songwriters may be offered the “opportunity” to “opt in” to the settlements and “new revenue streams”. But not all revenue streams are equal, remember streaming? Remember “Let’s help that plucky startup Spotify”? We have seen this movie before and we know how it ends.

Why a Suno Copyright Settlement Is Different from Spotify, LimeWire—or Even Bartz

The music industry has settled copyright infringement disputes before. Spotify’s mechanical royalty settlements in David Lowery’s class action resolved claims over unpaid or improperly licensed compositions. LimeWire’s settlement addressed unauthorized reproduction and distribution of copyrighted recordings. In both cases, the essential bargain concerned compensation for past copyright infringement, not permission to reproduce the identity of the human beings who created the music. Identity theft never came up.

Suno presents a fundamentally different problem. Its generative AI technology can potentially reproduce not merely copyrighted expression but recognizable characteristics of an artist’s voice, performance and identity—what Chris has called  personhood signals. A settlement that licenses recordings for future training may therefore implicate rights that neither the record company nor publisher controls. That’s why they need the “opt in” agreement to waive these rights because the AI platform doesn’t want to pay for the artist’s identify if the artist would even consider that deal. Many artists and songwriters, if not most, will not.

The Bartz v. Anthropic settlement illustrates the limitation of treating AI disputes exclusively as copyright cases. Bartzcompensates copyright owners for specified historical conduct involving pirated books. It settles the claims brought in litigation, so does not expressly resolve the separate problem of extracting and commercializing human identity. That is what a conventional copyright settlement misses.

Settling infringement of the work does not settle exploitation of the person. And no copyright settlement should quietly become consent to commercialize someone’s voice, identity or personhood.

So artists, their managers and lawyers are asking, what exactly are we being asked to agree to this time? Before you even get to the “new revenue stream,” an opt-in for an apparent copyright settlement may also include permission for future AI training, broad releases, perpetual covenants not to sue, or waivers of an artist’s rights in their name, voice and identity. These are fundamentally different transactions, with potentially permanent consequences. Before signing, creators need to understand not only what they will be paid, but what rights they are surrendering, how those rights may be exploited, and whether they can ever get them back.

Meet the Panelists

Chris Castle will lead the closing panel at Artist Rights Symposium 5, that warns “Beware the AI Opt-In: Hidden Right of Publicity Waivers.” The panel brings together four speakers with complementary perspectives on artist advocacy, litigation and music-industry licensing.

Jen Jacobsen, Artist Rights Alliance.  Friend of the show Jen Jacobsen is a long time artist rights advocate who brings the artist-advocacy perspective, focusing on meaningful consent, transparency and protecting musicians from agreements that may surrender irreversible grants of rights with hidden waivers.

George Zelcs of Korein Tillery.  George Zelcs is the lead counsel on the Jason Isbell/David Lowery personhood class action against Suno to help us understand the implications of “opt in” agreements with waivers on rights of publicity and the practical question of what remedies artists should retain.

Gwendolyn Seale — Gwen Seale PLLC.  Gwen brings experience representing songwriters and music copyright owners, with particular relevance to licensing authority, co-writer and co-owner interests, compensation and contractual protections.

Tim Kappel — Wells Kappel.  Tim is a copyright expert and artist rights advocate who successfully argued in federal trial court and the Fifth Circuit Court of Appeals that his client Cyril Vetter should retain foreign rights as part of a statutory copyright termination— a case now before the U.S. Supreme Court. 

The panel is scheduled for 3:00–4:00 p.m. on October 19. 

Three Deals Disguised as One?

An AI opt-in may combine three distinct transactions as part of the copyright settlement and go-forward license: compensation for past unauthorized uses (probably not shared by the label, but check), licensing for future model training, and revenue sharing from products built on those models (but don’t hold your breath). But accepting settlement compensation for yesterday’s conduct should not automatically mean consenting to tomorrow’s exploitation. 

There may also be a fourth transaction: authorization to use an artist’s name, voice, likeness or other personhood rights which could not have been brought by a record company or music publisher because they do not control those rights.

A copyright license is not permission to commercialize personhood.

The panel will examine how these rights can become entangled, particularly when record companies, publishers or other representatives may not control all the rights an AI company seeks.

What Happens After You Sign?

The panel will address the questions that can be overlooked when attention focuses on the size of a settlement or the promise of future royalties.

What exactly is inside the AI company’s “walled garden”? How are revenues attributed to particular recordings or compositions? Can users generate synthetic voices or prompt an artist’s name? Can artists examine the product before consenting? 

And what happens when an artist wants out later when the term expires (if there is a term)? Deleting a source recording does not necessarily remove its influence from an already-trained model. Termination, machine unlearning, continuing model exploitation and rights that survive expiration may determine whether an opt-in becomes a one-way door in an AI Hotel California.

Register for Artist Rights Symposium V on Eventbrite

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

by thetrichordist

@ArtistRights Symposium 5 Panel: In Our Own Backyard: Data Centers, AI Infrastructure, and the Creative Communities That Pay the Price

Registration is open for Artist Rights Symposium V at Eventbrite!

The Artist Rights Symposium V is coming on October 19 at Tweed Recording in Athens, GA hosted by the University of Georgia Terry College of Business Music Certificate Program and the School of Policy and International Affairs, and the Artist Rights Institute. More about the Symposium here and register on Eventbrite here. We’ll be posting panel overviews to introduce you to the speakers, this post is about the connection between data center opposition and artist rights.

When AI Comes for Your Dreams

Artificial intelligence is usually presented as something almost immaterial: software in the cloud, trained on data, producing an answer, an image or a song at the push of a button. But there is nothing immaterial about the massive physical infrastructure behind it.

Does somebody else’s need for your property give them the right to take it?

That is the connection we’ll explore at Artist Rights Symposium V with Ansley Brown; Georgia State Senator Sonya Halpern; and Dr. Moiya McTier of the Human Artistry Campaign and Moderator Chris Castle of Artist Rights Institute—bringing together community, public-policy and artist-rights perspectives on different sides of the same extraordinary AI buildout.

The panel highlights the increasingly important connection between data center protests and artist rights, bringing together leading human-creator advocates with a prominent Georgia community advocate whose family home was taken for data centers.

The panel will examine how AI not only depends on scraping vast swaths of human culture, but also requires enormous data centers, staggering amounts of electricity and water, sprawling new transmission infrastructure—real land in real communities. Someone bears the costs when family farms, homes and intellectual property become inputs to the AI economy.

Readers of the Data Center Backlash SITREP will remember Ansley Brown and her family’s fight in Coweta County, Georgia, where a proposed hyperscale data-center development brought AI’s extraordinary power demands quite literally to her doorstep—including Georgia Power’s effort to use eminent domain to take her family home for data center transmission lines.

Ansley did not set out to become a public advocate. She became one because a multibillion-dollar development threatened something deeply personal: the home and life her family had built in Coweta County, Georgia.

But Ansley’s story is also the story of thousands like her across America—and, indeed, around the world—as communities confront unprecedented demands for land, electricity, water and transmission capacity to support the accelerating AI buildout. At the same time, creators are watching their works appropriated by AI platforms that flood the attention economy with AI-generated content that competes directly with the human works used to build those systems.

Who bears the cost when someone else’s dream is reduced to an input for AI?

Artists have been asking essentially the same question—whether they’re protesting data centers next to the Nashville Zoo or suing to protect their works and personhood from unauthorized AI exploitation. Songwriters, recording artists, musicians, actors, writers and other creators have watched their work become an input into enormously valuable AI systems—without consent or compensation, if there even is a price for taking their dreams.

The AI economy has both i nputs and infrastructure. It needs creative works to build its products, and it needs land, power and water to run them. The legal issues are different, but the underlying question is remarkably similar: Ansley has described the human consequence in memorable terms: having to take the dream you built in one place and try to recreate it somewhere else—somewhere you hope will be safe from the next wave of AI development.

A family home and an artist’s life’s work are very different kinds of property. But neither becomes free for the taking merely because somebody else needs it to build a business.

What happens when the price of somebody else’s technological dream is that you have to surrender your own?

That’s the discussion we’re bringing to Athens on October 19 at Artist Rights Symposium V.  Registration is open at Eventbrite!

by thetrichordist

The American Music Fairness Act: Will Justice Cross the Finish Line

The American Music Fairness Act is still alive in the 119th Congress in the post-Labor Day political season, and with Congress heading toward the final stretch of the year, it is worth remembering both what the bill actually does and why it matters.

The basic proposition behind AMFA is remarkably simple: when terrestrial radio uses a sound recording to make money, the people who made the recording should be paid. That is not currently the law in the United States, and that’s what the #I Respect Music campaign is all about.

Songwriters and music publishers receive public-performance royalties when AM/FM radio plays a song. But the recording artists, background singers, session musicians and owners of the sound recording receive nothing for the terrestrial performance of that recording. Digital radio services, by contrast, already pay sound-recording performance royalties.

AMFA—S. 326 in the Senate and H.R. 861 in the House—would finally close that anomaly by extending the Section 106(6) sound-recording performance right to terrestrial audio transmissions and bringing AM/FM broadcasts within the Section 114 statutory licensing system.

This Is Not a Small-Radio-Killer Bill

One of the more persistent arguments against AMFA is that a new royalty would threaten small and community broadcasters. Congress has addressed that concern rather directly.

Under S. 326, a qualifying station with less than $100,000 in annual revenue would pay $10 per year. Qualifying public broadcasters with revenues between $100,000 and $1.5 million would pay $100 per year, while other qualifying stations in that range would pay $500. Those protections are limited to genuinely smaller operations; among other requirements, the station’s owner and affiliated entities must have aggregate revenues below $10 million. Let’s be real; that’s a fair deal for small broadcasters, come on.

For everyone else, the Copyright Royalty Judges would establish the rate. And Congress expressly tells the judges that they can consider radio’s much-invoked “exposure” value when determining that rate. (I’m so sure they’ll net out the indie payments, but hush my mouth.)

In other words, “radio promotes records” is not ignored by AMFA. It becomes an economic proposition that can be tested in an actual rate-setting proceeding rather than a vague slogan chanted by NAB lobbyists in sack cloth and ashes justifying a permanent entitlement for large broadcasters to use recordings for free.

And Artists Actually Get Paid

There is another important feature of AMFA that deserves considerably more attention. The bill plugs a potential direct-licensing loophole. If a copyright owner directly licenses transmissions that otherwise could have been made under the Section 114 statutory license, the broadcaster doesn’t get to use that deal to contract the performers out of their statutory share. The transmitting entity must pay 50 percent of the applicable direct-license royalties to SoundExchange (the collective Congress designated to distribute Section 114 royalties), which then distributes the money according to the statutory performer allocations.

That protection is important. It means AMFA isn’t merely creating another revenue stream payable to record companies with the hope that something eventually trickles through an artist’s recording agreement around recoupment in the royalty waterfall. The legislation deliberately preserves a statutory payment path for featured and nonfeatured performers.

That’s an important piece of artist protection and one of the better features of the bill.

The Whip Count

The reality is that AMFA is not sitting on the President’s desk. Neither chamber has reported the bill so far, and that’s the reality in the cold light of dawn. But— look at the Senate sponsorship.

S. 326 is led by Sen. Marsha Blackburn (R-TN) and now has Thom Tillis (R-NC), Bill Hagerty (R-TN), Alex Padilla (D-CA), Cory Booker (D-NJ), and Adam Schiff (D-CA) aboard. That is a 3–3 Republican/Democratic lineup, and importantly, Tillis chairs the Senate Judiciary Intellectual Property Subcommittee while Schiff is its ranking member.

That’s only six senators including the sponsor, so this is certainly not a 60-vote whip count. But six names don’t tell the whole story. Having the chairman and ranking member of the relevant subcommittee supporting the legislation is rather different from having six random cosponsors.

The Senate also did something important in December: it held an actual IP Subcommittee hearing on terrestrial performance rights, with Gene Simmons and SoundExchange President Michael Huppe making the case for performers and broadcasters presenting the opposing view.  And when Gene Simmons makes the case before Congress (“the word ‘if’ is for losers….”) and in his Washington Post op-ed, that’s a sight to behold and is must-see TV if you haven’t watched it.

AMFA support in the House of Representatives is also bipartisan. H.R. 861 is sponsored by Rep. Darrell Issa (R-CA), with support that crosses the aisle, including our long-time supporters Jerry Nadler and Ted Lieu. The House bill has accumulated additional cosponsors since introduction, although it likewise has not yet been reported from Judiciary.

So call the whip count what it is: not enough yet, but unusually well positioned institutionally for a music bill that hasn’t moved through committee.  And let’s be clear—fighting the National Association of Broadcasters is tough work, right up there with the Augean Stables and Sisyphus.  Although closer to the Stables in our opinion.

Don’t Rule Out the Lame Duck

That brings us to the calendar. There isn’t much legislative runway remaining in the 119th Congress, and AMFA still faces formidable opposition from the broadcast lobby. A conventional committee-to-floor path is getting increasingly difficult. But Congress will return after the November elections, and that is where things could get interesting before January 3, 2027 when unpasted bills die.

Music legislation has a history of moving when bipartisan agreement finally intersects with a legislative vehicle. The Music Modernization Act itself ultimately became a package containing several pieces of music legislation and passed with overwhelming bipartisan support.

AMFA now has something it did not have at the beginning of this Congress: a Senate hearing, bipartisan support from the leadership of the relevant IP subcommittee, bipartisan sponsorship in both chambers, and a legislative record establishing both the case for paying performers and the protections afforded small broadcasters.

While that doesn’t guarantee anything, it does make AMFA a plausible candidate for a lame-duck legislative vehicle if the right copyright, intellectual-property or broader year-end package starts moving.  Stranger things have happened.

And this is one of those issues where Congress has been “studying” the problem for a very long time. As SoundExchange CEO Mike Huppe reminded the Senate last December, the Senate Judiciary Committee actually reported the predecessor Performance Rights Act in 2009. It never reached the floor.

Seventeen years later, the underlying inequity is still the law:  American radio broadcasters can build a commercial business around recorded performances without paying the performers for those performances. Digital services pay. Broadcasters in most other developed music markets pay. American terrestrial radio does not.  Artists still die of exposure.

The American Music Fairness Act would finally change that.

Six Senate sponsors isn’t 60 votes. But with Blackburn, Tillis, Hagerty, Padilla, Booker and Schiff already aboard—and Tillis and Schiff occupying the two key positions on the IP Subcommittee—there may be enough bipartisan infrastructure here to keep watching very closely as Congress heads toward the lame duck.

Sometimes the last few weeks of a Congress are when supporters of legislation that has been waiting years finally ride Justice across the finish line.

by thetrichordist

Save the Date: Artist Rights Symposium V — October 19

The Artist Rights Institute and the University of Georgia School of Public Policy and International Affairs are pleased to announce Artist Rights Symposium V, to be held October 19, 2026, in Athens, Georgia at the School of Public Policy.

The fifth annual symposium will bring together artists, songwriters, musicians, academics, lawyers, policymakers, and other voices for a day of candid discussion about the rapidly changing legal, technological, and economic issues affecting creators.

The symposium will be moderated by David Lowery, Principal Lecturer in the Music Business Program at the University of Georgia’s Terry College of Business and co-founder of the Artist Rights Institute. As in previous years, the emphasis will be on hearing directly from the people whose livelihoods and creative work are affected by these changes.

Panels and speakers will be announced soon.

For now, save the date: October 19, 2026 — Athens, Georgia.

by thetrichordist

Selected Phonorecords V Objections: The Society of Composers & Lyricists

As part of our series highlighting selected objections to the NMPA-backed Phonorecords V Subpart B settlement, we turn to the filing of the Society of Composers & Lyricists (SCL), representing approximately 4,000 composers, lyricists, songwriters, and music copyright owners. SCL asks the Copyright Royalty Judges to reject the proposed settlement, arguing that it locks in an artificially low mechanical royalty base rather than genuinely preserving creators’ purchasing power. 

SCL focuses particularly on what it calls the missing inflation of 2021 and 2022. Its objection argues that carrying forward the 12¢ benchmark fails to restore those unusually inflationary years and could perpetuate the resulting shortfall through every subsequent COLA adjustment. SCL objects that the NMPA settlement carries the Phonorecords IV formula into Phonorecords V in a way that effectively creates a new frozen mechanical. Rather than carrying forward the actual inflation-adjusted 2027 penny rate (for example), the settlement retains 12¢ as the benchmark, perpetuating the very rate-freeze problem Phonorecords IV’s COLA was intended to prevent.

SCL proposes instead a physical and permanent-download rate of approximately 15.6¢ beginning in 2028, followed by annual CPI adjustments which would take into account the 2021 and 2022 rates that the PR IV rates did not take into account in coming up with the 12¢ rate. 

The filing also returns to a familiar issue from Phonorecords IV: vertical integration among the parties negotiating the settlement. SCL invokes the Judges’ own earlier warning that relationships linking major publishers and record labels can create inherent conflicts requiring scrutiny before a private agreement is transformed into rates binding the entire industry. 

SCL also challenges the continued 24¢ ringtone rate, raises concerns about bundling, and disputes the proposition that agreement among major industry organizations necessarily represents a consensus of the individual creators whose statutory royalties will be determined. 

Perhaps the filing’s central point is the simplest: an annual inflation adjustment cannot repair an incorrectly low starting point. SCL asks the Judges to reject the settlement and encourage a new negotiation that includes the views of independent creator organizations before rates are fixed for 2028–2032.

SCL OBJECTION TO PHONORECORDS V SETTLEMENTDownload
by thetrichordist

Selected Phonorecords V Comments: The Missing Record: Independent Songwriters Ask What the Phonorecords V Settlement Doesn’t Tell Us

Continuing our series highlighting objections to the proposed Phonorecords V settlement for mechanical royalties on physical and permanent downloads, our friends Helienne Lindvall, David Lowery, and Blake Morgan focus on a deceptively simple question: What is the record that allows the Copyright Royalty Judges to conclude this settlement is reasonable? Our friends do not argue that settlement is improper—or even necessarily that this settlement is unreasonable. Instead, they argue that Congress assigned the Judges, not the negotiating parties, responsibility for determining whether a private agreement provides a reasonable basis for rates imposed industry-wide. There’s just no record other than the NMPA’s settlement itself.

The comment also questions carrying the 12¢ Phonorecords IV benchmark forward through another five-year rate period simply because it remains indexed for inflation. CPI preserves the real value of the existing benchmark; it does not establish that the benchmark remains reasonable for 2028–2032. With vertically integrated companies operating on both sides of the “settlement”, the commenters argue that the missing economic record matters even more.

Comment PRV Subpart B Lindvall Lowery Morgan Castle v 1 FDownload
by 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.

ustr-national-treatment-letter-final-july-20268Download

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.

cp200110enDownload

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