WAGNER'S RING? WAY TOO LONG
By Stephanie N. Mehta
DISCO D IS FRUSTRATED. THE
25-year-old deejay/producer/ composer needs to catch a flight to Australia, he
hasn't packed, and his mobile phone keeps ringing. And yet he is stuck in his
home recording studio in Brooklyn's Williamsburg neighborhood, playing,
recording, and re-recording the same eight bars of music for more than an hour.
"I don't love this melody you sold me," Disco D (a.k.a. David Shayman) tells
fellow producer Eddie O'Loughlin. "I'm going to grit my teeth to get through
O'Loughlin, a 60-year-old music veteran who discovered such acts as rappers
Salt-N- Pepa, is unmoved. "This melody is a gift," he urges. "Trust me on this.
And so, for about the 30th time, Disco D cranks up his drum machine and lays
down beats. Dee Robert, a singer and songwriter, steps up to the mike. "Oh, I'm
going to love you tonight," she sings in a bluesy voice. "Oh, I'm going to love
O'Loughlin nods. "Better," he says. "Now, let's try it again, simpler this
Disco D, O'Loughlin, and Robert are pioneers in a new art form: the ringtone.
Today most ringtones for cellular phones are snippets of existing songs or
compositions, with top-40 and hip-hop hits making up the bulk of the downloaded
tones. But a new generation of songwriters sees the mobile phone as an emerging
medium for artistic expression, and they are composing original material
exclusively for cellphones: the ringtone for ringtone's sake.
It isn't easy, as the Williamsburg crew's experience shows. After all, pop and
rap artists have three whole minutes to tell a story with their music. Those
jazz and classical dudes get even longer. But when you're writing a ringtone,
you have about 20 seconds to convey a message of love, heartbreak, or hope--or
at least come up with an infectious hook. "With ringtones, it has to be
memorable," O'Loughlin says. "And it's got to have a little bite to it."
O'Loughlin's perfectionism could have a big payday. Ringtones are a shockingly
lucrative business, generating more than $2 billion in annual worldwide revenues
for the record labels that license their tunes and the retailers and phone
companies that sell the tones for about $2 a pop. Everywhere you look,
non-musicians are trying to cash in on the craze: Movie studios want to make
bits of film dialogue available--instead of your phone trilling, perhaps you'd
like it to have Jack Nicholson say, "Here's Johnny!" And sports figures are
recording shout-outs that fans can buy in lieu of regular rings. Disco D first
got turned on to the possibilities of ringtones when retailer Best Buy decided
to turn some music he'd written for one of its commercials into a ringtone and
offer it on the Best Buy website. (In fact, composing standalone ringtones is a
lot like writing music for commercials or jingles. "It's a very similar
concept," says Dee Robert. "You're trying to push a product in a very short
amount of time.")
It is one thing to write a killer ringtone, but then it needs to get airplay, or
phone play. That's where companies like Jamster come in. Jamster, a unit of
Internet services company VeriSign, formats music for distribution on mobile
devices and markets the ringtones on its website and through TV ads on MTV, BET,
and other music-oriented networks. Jamster even has its own studios, where
engineers will take ringtones and replay them on different cellphones to hear
how the clips will sound--much the way studios used to keep various radios on
hand to hear how, say, Ray Charles's "I Can't Stop Loving You" would sound on a
range of car and tabletop radios.
O'Loughlin, who owns a production company called Next Plateau Entertainment, has
compiled about 20 original ringtones from various artists, which he's pitched to
Jamster executives, who will decide which ones to license and market--and
perhaps turn into hits.
Ringtone technology came out of Finland, which may not rule the music world but
definitely rocks when it comes to cellphones. A decade or so ago the Finns had a
problem. Big-shot executives would be sitting in a conference room, they'd all
put their phones on the table, and--these being important people--they'd all
have the same hot gadget. Then one of the phones would ring and everyone would
lunge because there was no way of knowing whether the phone was Pekka's or
Osto's. These people clearly needed ways to personalize their phones.
Around the same time, an engineer for Finnish cellphone maker Nokia figured out
a way to change the sounds a phone makes by sending codes over the air--the same
technology used to ship short text messages. Nokia commercialized the service in
1997, and soon it wasn't merely executives using ringtones to personalize their
phones (they all have Beatles ringtones, anyway) but hip-hop-loving kids looking
for the latest sound and harried soccer moms who program different rings for
each of their kids and friends.
Yet only recently have serious music figures like Sir Mix-A-Lot viewed ringtones
as a platform for their creativity. (The "Baby Got Back" rapper has produced
"MixTones" for an outfit called Versaly Entertainment.) That's largely due to
new handsets that play "true tones," or reasonably good versions of recorded
music. Before true tones came along, phones could play only polyphonic or even
cruder monophonic tones, which could capture just a song's melody, often in
tinny-sounding bleats. Disco D, monitoring the "Love You Tonight" recording to
make sure a typical true-tone cellphone could replay the upper and lower notes,
says he doesn't compose for older handsets. "I, like, want some control over how
my art gets transmitted."
Berry Gordy had his "Hitsville U.S.A." house. Phil Spector had the Brill
Building. Eddie O'Loughlin has Disco D's home studio in Williamsburg, and a
couple of other studios just like it. A songwriter in the 1960s, O'Loughlin
realized he had a knack for helping tweak other writers' work. He formed his own
production company and in the 1970s helped launch the music careers of Gloria
Gaynor and John Travolta. In the 1990s he reinvented himself yet again as an
executive for rap label Tommy Boy, then founded Next Plateau, in part to
capitalize on the ringtone craze. "The fact that he's still relevant is insane,"
says Disco D.
O'Loughlin is old-school in at least one way, however. Even though he's
producing standalone ringtones, he wouldn't be averse to returning to the studio
to expand the most popular rings into full-length tracks. "There's nothing like
making a hit record or producing a hit act," O'Loughlin says. As for musicians
who think ringtones aren't real art, O'Loughlin predicts that they'll eventually
come around, recalling that when he got his start in the music business there
were high-minded performers who wouldn't dream of appearing on television.
"There's more income in ringtones, and they are going to be important tools for
launching a record, even a career," O'Loughlin says. Disco D's cellphone goes
off again, and O'Loughlin decides to take an informal poll: Who here uses
ringtones? "Not one of us here has ringtones," he says. "Isn't that funny?"