Learn more about CD piracy and what's being done to curb this crime!

The Brazilian Association of Record Producers (ABPD) has been airing on television a long film that calls on society — the tone is exhortatory — to combat music piracy, asks the Executive Branch for measures against music piracy, and uses the voices of well-known names — Caetano Veloso, Elba Ramalho, Ney Matogrosso, Gilberto Gil, Milton Nascimento, and so on — vehemently condemning music piracy.

"They are trying to silence Brazilian music" is the phrase that serves as the slogan for the campaign, a good advertising film that, like all advertising, does not tell the whole truth. Piracy must be fought, not only of records, of course yes. But it is necessary, much more importantly, immediately, urgently, to combat other forms of piracy, institutionalized, shamefully practiced, never denounced — because those who could denounce them have everything to lose.

Point by point. The ABPD brings together the major multinational record labels and a few national ones; among the national ones, the most powerful is Som Livre, which has no roster. Xuxa is its only contracted artist; it releases the compilations used in the soundtracks of TV Globo soap operas. In these compilations it is very rare for music by Milton, Caetano, Gil, or Ney to appear. The bulk of the national material that goes into soap opera soundtracks is tacky samba, tacky country music, tacky Bahian music, tacky forró, dumb pop, ultra-tacky "romantic music". And so on. You know what kind of artist I'm talking about.

To give "seriousness" to the campaign, however, the ABPD did not use the word of those in whom its members invest advertising money, paying fortunes to radio programmers (the so-called payola practice) so that their sub-musical garbage gets exhaustive airplay across the country. It did not use the fake blonde with a shapely backside, the black guy with straightened hair, the cowboy who looks like he stepped out of a D-grade American western. It did not use, in short, those to whom it truly gives importance.

It used people, so to speak, serious, who have opinions, who shape opinions, who are capable of impressing the viewer. But, come on, if these people are better for making a denunciation, a warning, why aren't they good enough to be followed, to make heirs who deserve incentives? If these people shape opinion, why are their stylistic offspring barred at the doors of record labels, considered "difficult", "elitist" and labels like that, while the same doors are thrown wide open to copies of fake blondes, copies of fake pagode singers, copies of country singers fueled by payola, copies of anorexic pop stars — for those lacking originality, intelligence, creativity?

So, my friends, those who are trying to silence Brazilian music, in the very first place, are the record labels represented by the Brazilian Association of Record Producers. It is they, it is the ABPD, that are committing the crime of treason against the nation by dumbing down the country's soundtrack, the music that was once the richest on the planet and today is a subject of international mockery. It is the ABPD, its represented companies, that suffocate emerging talents (unless the aspiring artist agrees to imitate the latest "phenomenon" created in the backstage of Faustão's show, in the shame of radio programmers' conventions and so on), that prevent the emergence of new Chico Buarques, Caetanos, Gal Costas, Nana Caymmis. And put in their place new Carla Perezes, new Mamonas Assassinas, new Negritudes Juniores. Do you see who silences what?

The record labels silence by denying listeners access to dozens of talented young people who seek them out, with the policy of making a lot, and making it fast, the most important form of Brazilian cultural expression. But they also silence music in other ways. For decades the musical class has been trying to get record labels to number their records — it is the only way to effectively control how much of each product was sold. The lobby of record manufacturers against the measure is so strong that the last act of then-president Garrastazu Médici was to veto a law requiring factories to number their records.

Thus, the factories say: you sold this much. The "this much" is whatever they decide (what happens to the possible other part? There are suspicions, whispered fearfully, in hushed tones). And the "you" in question accepts — or leaves the game. If you fight, you don't record anymore. The music publishers, almost all linked to the major labels, use the same policy. Tom Jobim started making money when he began publishing his songs outside the rigged (mild word) Brazilian system. Thus, he earned more from little-known songs than from the great hits administered by firms here. The ABPD is turning its batteries against slipper-wearing pirates, pretending not to have a glass roof.