The problem I have with this is the model is tied exclusively to a small subset of genres and performance venues, but used to described the entirety of the music industry, conveniently ignoring all other music that doesn't fit.
I'll use myself as an example, but my situation is not unique. The process I use for creating modular tracks is not real time. It takes about a month to produce 2-3 minutes of finished audio. It is a slow, painstaking process, much like hand-drawn animation. There is no live performance version of what I'm doing in the studio, and that assumes a critical mass of audience in one place, a venue that would support it, and the ability to make a profit (no, no and no). One of the benefits of distributing music on the internet is you can narrowcast your brand of expression to an audience that may total hundreds over the globe. An artist may actually be able to make money to a narrowcast global audience, if we didn't train ourselves to think recorded music is worthless.
There is an obvious element of self-interest to advancing the notion that recorded music should be free and true artist support involves attending the live show, because it makes us feel better about downloading music. At the same time, I'm told that if I don't like the recorded music of artist x, it is because I haven't seen the artist live. So, which is it? Is live music the same as recorded music or not? The justification seems to shift depending on the context.
If the music doesn't hold my interest on record, then I probably won't enjoy the live version, either. What is interesting is how people conflate the non-music aspects surrounding a concert experience and attribute these elements to the music. Brenda Laurel, as a researcher during the salad days at Atari, performed an experiment where subjects were given an opportunity to experience a game with high resolution and low resolution audio. Participants found the game with high resolution audio 'looked' better. What that says to me is this is a natural and understandable response.
I never liked the Grateful Dead. (all this means is I don't like their music. It doesn't mean they're a bad band, m'kay?) I tried to. I tried to understand what it was that enraptured so many other people. But listening to the Dead's MUSIC, I never found anything that impressed me enough to listen a second time. When I'd tell people this, the usual response was, "Oh, you have to go see their live show."
I'm naturally skeptical about this. The most awesome light show in the world doesn't improve the music, but it may improve the concert experience. Great dancers on stage don't improve the music, but it may improve the concert experience. There may be an amazing community around the act, but this doesn't have anything to do with the music. My feelings about the music; the harmony, the style, the melody, the repetitiveness, the structure, aren't going to magically change if I'm experiencing it live, unless I'm hearing a radically-different interpretation.
I'm extremely dubious about electronic acts live, especially solo acts. Why? Because the easiest and most-reliable path to success involves using pre-recorded material. This could range from improvising a complex arrangement from scratch using software, or simply playing back an entire mastered stereo mix. If the performer is working a laptop, you have zero idea how much 'performance' is actually happening. Un-muting the kick drum or theatrically twisting a low pass filter knob on stage doesn't impress me.
Even if the performer is a genius of real-time construction, there isn't anything about a performance of mouse clicks that the audience can relate to. Everyone understands how a guitar works. The audience can see a musician set a string in motion and finger the frets. There is a direct correlation between what is happening on stage and the sound that you hear. In the end, creating a compelling solo performance that doesn't involve heavy reliance on pre-recorded material, has interesting compositional movement, doesn't subject your audience to live-looped section-building, and doesn't glue your nose to a computer is exceptionally difficult.
This is why I feel the monome goes a long way to solving the performance problem inherent in electronic music (it doesn't have to be a monome, I'm just using it as an example) Daedalus gets this, he even positions his unit to face the audience so they understand how the physical gestures correlate to the music. This is a unique moment in time and THAT is why I go see live music. I want to hear a different interpretation. I want to see the performer engage the audience and have the audience press back on the music. I want to enjoy watching the performer execute musical ingenuity. For me, the point of seeing live music is the live music - a little element of danger. I don't want a perfect reproduction of what is on the record. Live music is a separate art form.
