Faint and feverish, A.H. CAYLEY quickly learns what not to say at day one of the AustralAsian Music Business Conference.

Part One: Thursday, August 20

The ninth AustralAsian Music Business Conference (AMBC) begins in just over an hour. I'm ill. Like, really ill. Worst flu ever. Hope it's not swine flu. I have a high temperature and no voice, and I think I'm delirious. I have committed myself to covering all three days of the AMBC, a music business conference organised by industry identity Phil Tripp and his company IMMEDIA! with an expensive entry fee (my ticket would have cost anyone else $660. And that's an “early-bird” price).

Is it a money-making wankfest or an insightful industry discussion? I can't wait to find out, but for now I just want to get inside and sit down, and rest before the first keynote speaker. So here I am, at Darling Harbour's Convention Centre, having carefully checked the address yesterday while munching on a glass full of ice and trying to stay upright.

“Hi, I'm here for the AustralAsian Music Business Conference.”
Blank expression.
“I'm sorry?”
“The AMBC. It's a music industry conference.”
“We have a conference on autism here today. Are you here for the autism conference?”
Fuck, maybe I am.
“Um, where's the nearest phonebox, please?”

Long-intro-short: I'm supposed to be at the ACER Conference Centre in Homebush. Thankfully, I manage to get there in time. With my free showbag in hand and my ID lanyard around my burning neck, I enter the dimly-lit conference room.

There are less people than I expected – so many empty chairs. As I entertain the thought of wearily counting them, a large bearded man with a bright shirt and a Texan accent commands the stage. He is Phil Tripp. At 58 years old, he has etched out a colourful career, and made himself quite an infamous name. I have heard so much about the man, each description usually seasoned with a pinch of four-letter words. I'm so curious to see what the big deal is.

Somewhat disappointingly, he is utterly charming, warm and witty – even when outlining the strict “one question only” policy for audience members. “We're the speakers, you're the audience,” he says. “If ya break the rule, I'll just cut ya down and embarrass ya in front of everyone.” It is his last year before retirement, and thus the final AMBC, nine of which have taken place over the last 18 years. He describes his satisfaction with his achievements, such as the AustralAsian Music Industry Directory, but feels the time is right to get out. “You can only reinvent the phonebook so many times,” he states. I can't tell if he's being ironically self-deprecating or hysterically self-congratulatory. Tripp then explains that of the usual 500 attendees, this year sees only 360. He's not bothered.

The first keynote speaker of the day is Jon Satterley, formerly the CEO of Roadrunner Records in Australia, and currently the senior vice president of new media and global business development for Roadrunner in New York. Confidently and emphatically, he presents his talk in the style of motivational posters. The first two: “Don't be shit” and “be awesome”. It's sound, practical and realistic advice – as is that of almost all speakers over these three days - but I can't help wondering how that's an insight worth the money the Adelaidean singer-songwriter sitting in front of me has spent on her ticket, travel and accommodation to be here. (Hint: it’s at least a grand.)

Twenty-five minutes in and I've come to realise the issue I have with the AMBC. While it gives no-bullshit advice relating to a career in music, this is only evident upon arrival. Its advertising seems to perpetuate the idea that there are industry “secrets” to be learnt for the low low price of several hundred dollars.

The majority of the audience is made up of wannabees with stars in their eyes and a vulnerable, easily-abused naivety. These are relative nobodies looking for a quick and easy ascent to somebody status. It's a refreshing and certainly healthy reality check to hear that it's not going to happen that way, but disappointing for so many: some of their expectations would surely have been that the insights revealed at this event would accelerate their path to stardom. Still, there's a real sense of optimism in the air that this weekend will “do it for certain, ma!”, as I overheard one interstate visitor declaring on her mobile phone. If someone really wants to pay up to $770 for that confidence, I don't see why they shouldn’t.

Satterley continues with some clear advice about customer business (revenues per fan is the “new metric”) and claims that physical products still matter (why shut down something that's working fine?). He suggests supplementing “merchandise” (CDs, vinyl, etc.) with downloads. He then brings up the interesting line that “labels matter” and that “bloggers declaring record labels as dinosaurs are talking nonsense”. Of course he would say that, being a high-ranking label representative, but it’s a comment that sees either repetition and disagreement from most speakers over these three days, and makes for some fascinating discourse. It’s one of his final comments, however, that sparks my ire: that the marriage of art and commerce is not always necessary, and often ugly. It seems this really is a business conference.

“The majority of the audience is made up of wannabees with stars in their eyes and a vulnerable, easily-abused naivety. These are relative nobodies looking for a quick and easy ascent to somebody status.”

A discussion follows the keynote address featuring Sony Music Australia's Ken Outch; Michael Smellie, former CEO of Sony/BMG and MD of Polygram and rooArt Australia; Marcus Seal, CEO of Shock, a man who not only namechecked Eddy Current Suppression Ring as an example of a band with both a clear vision and a good plan, but who is also taking on MTV Australia in a dispute over the non-payment of independent artists (clearly, a most awesome and righteous dude); Shaun James, the general manager of music channels for XYZ Networks; Sebastian Chase, CEO of MGM; Gerd Leonhard, a “media futurist”; and the aforementioned Satterley. I can't help but ask, based on what I've heard already, how much room – if any – is there for art and music within the music business? Bad idea.

“Plenty,” remarks Seal, incredulously, before he is cut off by James, who notes that it's about the artist's idea of success, and how much they're willing to compromise. I'd like to ask how much a label is usually willing to compromise with an artist, as opposed to an artist with a label, but my mic has been taken off me. One question only – and I've not enough voice to yell it. Seal then continues that the music is what it's all about. “And for me, personally, it's my culture and my life ... Looking at everyone here today, you can see how important it is.” And then the kicker: “So, I can't believe you'd actually ask that question.”

The obvious offense taken by Seal and the defensive nature of the rest of the panel, is certainly promising, and reveals a true love of music – even if it's now shrouded under industry wrapping. However, it's certainly not a question I'd dare ask again. It may be the fever, but I think I just melted under the glares from the stage. Following this, I spend the rest of the conference being approached by other attendees with the line: “You're that journalist, aren't you?” It’s usually followed by something along the lines of, “Hey! You should include me in your story!”, before a bio is either thrust in my hand or rolled out in one spiel. I'm dying here.

Speaking to Seal later to clarify my stance, he seems to have no issues with the question asked. “I think it was great,” he says, beaming. “It's something that certainly needs to be asked, that we all have to ask ourselves, otherwise we're probably not doing anything good.” I then ask him to explain the MTV situation. It’s alleged that MTV Australia will not pay public performance royalties to independent artists, as they feel they simply don't have to; that the promotion of being played on MTV is payment enough. While this may be the case for smaller artists, larger independent acts such as Bloc Party or The Prodigy don’t really need the promotional leg-up, and are responsible for drawing MTV's viewers and also its faux “indie” cred. Seal has been scathing in his and the Australian Independent Record Association’s fight with the channel, and joked that “they're about to put me in jail for it”. Shock will no longer provide MTV with any content.

In the break between this panel and the next keynote speaker (“internet innovator” Kevin Bermeister, the “driving force” behind Kazaa), there is a short speech from Smellie about the introduction of a music training package. Run through the IBSA (Innovation and Business Skills Australia, just one of the many acronyms we learn this weekend), the package will provide certified qualifications for musical students. According to Smellie, the Australian music industry adds $2-$3 billion to our national accounts and makes up for 250,000 jobs, so it’s an initiative that certainly makes sense. It’s what Smellie says next, however, that typifies the most prevalent theme of this conference. “The music business is oscillating around a tipping point,” he explains. “[There is] no point in looking at the past … the future of the music industry is all about the future.” Amen to that.

Bermeister then begins his address on a method of minimising illegal internet downloads. He argues that legislation must put ISPs and copyright on the same side of the law, and proposes that a “copyrouter” should be put into the network of every single ISP. This “copyrouter” should police all traffic and define what's being shared via the “hashtags” that each file represents, before blocking any traffic that has been flagged as unauthorised. They will then be replaced with legal files, at which point a charge will be taken from the ISP. Enforced censorship and unaware spending. Awesome. Not only a terrible idea, but thoroughly unrealistic and a slippery slope to greater internet policing. During his keynote address tomorrow, futurist Leonhard will declare that he has “not heard anything more ridiculous”, and is applauded by the entire audience for saying so. I can't listen to any more – no serious music magazine think piece is worth this – so I make my way to the bathroom to check my temperature. Ah, good: 39.8 degrees. I hear another line about “hashtags” emanating from the conference room before I hit the cold hard tiles.

Waking later (and surprisingly, unnoticed), I am in time to witness the artists and managers panel, featuring Dan Hennessy, principal of Aloha Management and former A&R head of Warner Music; Gregg Donovan, manager of Airbourne, Grinspoon and Josh Pyke; Edrei Cullen, director of One Louder management; Tim Levinson of Elefant Tracks, also known as Urthboy; and Guy Sebastian and his manager Titus Day. They discuss, among other things, how an artist can get a manager. Nothing too insightful is said, and it seems one already needs to have a connection to get a connection.

“There's a variety of ways,” remarks Hennessy. “If I hear a name or a song from three or four other people I know, I might pursue it.” Might. “Most managers do not respond to personal requests,” adds Tripp. Everyone agrees. So basically, you have to already be heard and known in order to get heard and known. And apparently, putting effort in is no help at all. “One song, one photo is all I need,” declares Donovan, before others add that big press packs or carefully designed sleeves are usually a turn-off. “One MP3 in an email,” corrects Cullen, before making a comment along the lines of not having the time to open a CD case and insert it into a player. Again, realistic and straightforward advice, but it just seems too insular, particularly for the Newcastle musicians I chatted to later, who know very few in the industry and had brought with them press packs that they'd slaved over.

The next panel focuses on branding, sponsorship and endorsements. It features Keith Welsh, chairman of the Australasian Music Publisher's Association (AMPAL, another acronym) and former co-publisher of The Music Network; Andrew Reid, managing director of Peer Group; Kim Green, music supervisor of Music Licensing Pty Ltd; Brett Oaten of Brett Oaten Solicitors; Damien Trotter, MD of Sony/ATV Music Publishing; Clayton Doughty, entertainment relations at Gibson; and Seal once more. In short: branding and sponsorship are a great way for a well-established band or artist to make some extra cash, but at what price? The “sell-out” argument is mentioned, but frankly, it's more money for a band you love, which allows them to make more music you love, right? I've always seen it as a good sign: if a brand uses “your” music, it means they're trying to target you, and that means you have the power of the consumer.

“Small bands and their subcultures have the credibility of being untainted,” explains Seal. “And their followers are the ones advertisers want. [They're more] cynical, suspicious and hard to reach.” Reid agrees. “Brands are looking for quality and credibility through music.” Being flexible, pragmatic, and weighing up the pros and cons is important, says Trotter, before giving an example of a Lisa Mitchell song, ‘Coin Laundry’, which was used in a UK detergent commercial. It apparently broke her over there, and she's just played Glastonbury. “But we'd never license it for an Australian ad,” he qualifies. Refreshingly, the focus is off the tiresome “sell-out” argument, not that it would deter many in this crowd: they can't wait to do it.

Day one is over. Waving off a flurry of proffered business cards – “Hey! You're that journalist!” - I make my way to Olympic Park train station. I've been pleasantly surprised by the depth of discussion today, and I'm actually really looking forward to tomorrow. Now on my train, I stupidly make eye contact with another passenger. “You're that journalist, aren't you?” She slides in to the seat next to me and laughs. “Oh man! I can't believe you really asked them that question!”

Tomorrow will be a very long day.

+

Part two: A.H. CAYLEY finds herself party to a section of the Australian music industry that is – shock horror – open to change and progress.