ARTS
An act of cultural vandalism
Nigel Reynolds fears that EMI is taking its record labels down-market It may not be quite on a par with the burning of the library at Alexandria, but to witness a live act of cultural vandalism you would have to go a long way to beat the lat- est machinations of the men at mighty EMI, one of the world's top five record companies and one of the great surviving names of British business.
For much of 1995, the tiny staff at Clas- sics for Pleasure, the excellent small recording label owned by Thorn EMI, have been happily plotting celebrations for their 25th anniversary next month. There was or so the staff thought — plenty to be proud of. CfP was Britain's first budget- price classical music label. In its first year, it sold almost 1 million records, and in its quarter century countless music listeners have been grateful for the label's cut-price (£7 or thereabouts, compared with a £14 full-price disc today) recordings of many of the standards of the classical repertoire, all performed by good, top-drawer names and orchestras. CfP's own subsidiary label, Eminence, went one better, pioneering new mid-price recordings, sometimes of adven- turous, non-standard works, using little- known but up-and-coming, and often British, performers. Thus, for example, was Nigel Kennedy launched on the world, not to mention Franz Welser-MOst and Tasmin Little.
Then, a few weeks ago, out came a com- pany press release announcing: 'For 25 years Classics for Pleasure has remained the top- selling budget priced classical range.' It proved to be the kiss of death — one of those object lessons in corporate double- speak. Last week, with a speed and brutality more usually seen in the City, EMI sacked the entire top table — four experienced record executives — at Classics for Pleasure and Eminence. Each of them had been in the music business for 20 years or more. Now left in situ are only a handful of sec- retaries and an under-strength sales team who will be swallowed up by the corporate belly at EMI's new head offices in Brook Green in west London. The only certainty is that what happens to the remains of these previously autonomous labels, run by a small team responsible for both artistic and sales decisions, will now be determined by EMI's 'suits'.
It is that 'Nineties phenomenon' all over again. What is sacred today? Like the health service, where layers of administra- tors rule supreme over doctors, or the Vic- toria & Albert Museum, where 'consultants' and 'managers' supplanted 'scholars', EMI has convinced itself that Classics for Plea- sure was not quite professional enough for, as one says, 'these harsh modern times'. The shake-up, says James Brock, director of classical marketing at EMI, is part of 'a wider restructuring' of the company's divi- sions, meaning, so far as one can follow modem management language, that one group of managers will in future collective- ly run the creative side of all of EMI's vari- ous classical music parts, while another set of hands will manage all the super soar- away stuff like marketing, planning and sales. In precise detail, much-loved Classics for Pleasure (which over its 25 years has made somewhere in the region of 150 recordings) will no longer make music but become an old beached whale by releasing a back catalogue from time to time. Emi- nence will, however, survive, Mr Brock insists, and carry on as before with a full array of mid-price new recordings still com- mitted to helping up-and-coming soloists with their first recording contracts.
Mr Brock's language is not, however, particularly encouraging for listeners used to the label's high standards. 'The only dif- ference between two recordings of a Brahms concerto,' he says baldly, 'is the artists doing them.' Tellingly, he says of Eminence that 'there is scope for freshen- ing and modernising the label'. It is the familiar refrain of this decade.
Classics for Pleasure is a victim of the `Vanessa-Mae phenomenon', so called after the young virtuoso violinist now being marketed for all she is worth (and very pos- sibly for more than she's worth, say many sceptics) by EMI's main classical label. The only object of today's music game is to make a performer into a global star and dress her (it is much easier with a her) like a sex goddess. And if you haven't got a star? You simply repackage all your old material in the most brazen way you can, so that, for example, Ravel's Bolero and some snippets of Carmina Burana are pulled together on a disc called Classic Climaxes with a cover picture of a naked couple somewhere near ecstasy. Or, more ludi- crously, throw some Tchaikovsky, Schubert and Chopin together into a Gay Classics album and put two embracing Freddie Mercury lookalikes on the cover.
CfP and Eminence will survive, in name at least, inside EMI, but probably in a very different form and without the tender lov- ing care of a dedicated team. The music world is far from impressed by these changes, and many people are appalled by the peremptory sacking of the staff, partic- ularly of the much-loved Patricia Byrne, a former professional flautist brought over from EMI Australia 10 years ago to be CfP's director.
Sir Charles Mackerras, one of CfP's most loyal conductors, immediately went on record to accuse EMI of going down-mar- ket. The shake-up, he says, 'is so conde- scending to people who understand and love classical music. Many people will just get sickened by this attitude.'
Why has EMI caused all this heartache? Mr Brock says that it is a tough world out there and CfP no longer has the budget- price market-place to itself, with companies like Naxos and Tring making their pres- ence felt. More curiously, he adds that CfP's autonomous ways 'perhaps weren't appropriate in today's climate'. But does he mean that the two labels weren't making money? He refuses point blank to say.
Several insiders told me that they were sure Classics for Pleasure and Eminence were profitable, but, and only in the last 18 months, not profitable enough. No one dis- putes that new recordings are costly these days — a full symphonic work will set a company back around £50,000, while an opera can easily cost £120,000 — and com- petition means that first-year sales might amount to only 3,000 discs, making invest- ment longer to recoup than it once did.
It is odd that EMI won't talk money. It may be that the only sin perpetrated by Miss Byrne's two high-quality labels has been that they have not contributed quite enough money to EMI, a £4 billion compa- ny which commands 14 per cent of the global music market, which reported record profits last year and which includes the Beatles, the Rolling Stones, Blur and, of course, Vanessa-Mae in its lists. Now, Vanessa-Mae's budget recording of Clas- sics for the Bottom Line would really be worth buying.
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