C’mon,
sing along. “Highway to the
danger zone / Going right into the danger zone.” Hollywood is making a
soundtrack, and, as a rule, someone’s going to call Kenny Loggins, right?
Ah, the times they are a-changin’. Among the hot names for doing soundtracks
these days are two little ol’ bands from Texas: Austin’s Butthole Surfers and
Denton’s Toadies. Thus far to their credit the Surfers have done work for
Escape from L.A., Romeo and Juliet, Beavis and Butt-head, Beverly Hills
Ninja, Black Sheep, Fox Hunt, and according to Sandy Epps, spokesperson for
T.A.B. Management, which handles both the Butthole Surfers and the Toadies,
“one of the Ace Ventura movies, but I’m not sure which.” The Toadies have been
equally in demand, appearing on the soundtracks for The Cable Guy, Escape
from L.A., Basquiat, Black Sheep, The Crow II: City of Angels, Nightwatch,
and The Craft.
Epps has a simple explanation for the sudden and dramatic increase in
popularity of these bands and the proliferation of modern rock in soundtracks
in general: “When you see the Toadies and the Buttholes, and you see these
other bands, it’s because their music fits the times and the mood of the
movie.”
I’m not even going to speculate on precisely what about the Surfers “fits”
with Romeo and Juliet, but between these two bands they have at least a
dozen different appearances on soundtracks, which seems a little high to be
just a statistical anomaly. Turns out there’s still gold in California, and you
can get it without leaving Texas — or wherever your band may happen to reside.
Get on the right soundtrack and the money or the exposure can spew forth like a
fountain that pours like an avalanche running down the mountain.
Normally, soundtracks are one of the last considerations in movie-making.
Producers and directors see how much money is left when everything else is
done, then go from there. They work with the music supervisor, whose job is to
get the music for the movie, and try to compile the material they want and can
get. They can go the original score route — the John Williams school — or get
generic source music. Yet recently, Hollywood has caught up to the record
industry in realizing the value of modern rockers and heaps of soundtracks
loaded with “cool” bands are finding their way to the market.
Putting together a soundtrack is a little more complicated than most normal
albums, though. Typically, a record label and the band work out a deal, the
band goes and records, the label distributes and (sometimes) promotes the
resulting album, and both parties hope millions of consumers flock to record
stores like moths to a porch light — making everybody happy. The specifics
involved in the deal getting everybody to that end will almost certainly vary
for every band and label. For soundtracks, you obfuscate things that much more
by bringing in a third player to a situation where there is no such thing as a
standard deal to begin with. This only increases the variety of possibilities
and ways for any party to give or take depending on its leverage.
“The film company strikes the deal up for promotion and distribution with the
label… and the film company — it’s their film, so they’re putting the
soundtrack together and it’s usually up to the director and the music
supervisor to pick and choose the music — as they find the music that fits the
best, they actually make the deal with the artists,” explains Mark Proct,
manager for Jimmie Vaughan and Doyle Bramhall II, among others.
The film companies have to pay for the music, and pay they will in at least
two ways. First, they pay for what are called synch rights. That’s the fee for
the use of the song, and it goes to some combination of the label and the
artist. The movie people also have to pay mechanical rights, money which goes
to whomever owns the publishing rights to the song — usually some other
combination of publishing company and artist. Notice that the artist can get
money from both ends of the equation.
Epps admits it’s typically profitable: “That’s how musicians make a lot of
their money. What they are doing is selling the right for someone else to
market their music. The movie company will come to management and say we’d like
to use `Possum Kingdom’ on a soundtrack. And we say `Yes’ or `No.’ We’d
probably say `No’ because that’s our single, then you counter with something
else, and give them a couple of options — something older or something just
written — and they choose from the list of songs we give them. If they pick
one, then we negotiate the amount of money for them to get to use the song on
their soundtrack.”
The street runs two ways, and management isn’t always just sitting around
waiting for the phone to ring. Proct takes some of the initiative himself
(Vaughan has recently done soundtrack work for Tin Cup and From Dusk
Til Dawn, writing a new song for the former and using a Strange
Pleasure outtake for the latter). “I look for them too,” Proct says. “I
will pick up the phone and call them. You have to communicate on a regular
basis. For instance, Tin Cup was already in progress and we hooked
Jimmie up with [director] Ron Shelton and it worked out real well.”
Now if an artist like Vaughan is writing a song specifically for the movie,
then the artist, depending on their stature, will get money up front for the
recording — generally anywhere from $10,000 to $50,000 but possibly more or
less, according to Proct. That may break down into recording costs, the master
use fee, or just the cost of having high-profile rock stars appear on the
project. The fee might even be for ownership of the publishing rights so the
song becomes the sole property of the film company after it’s done. Artists
also try to figure themselves into the divvying up of royalties. Of course, if
the synch rights are being paid for a song that’s already recorded, they could
be broken down into an advance on royalties.
Confused? You should be. Synch rights, mechanical rights, publishers, record
companies, advances, royalties — everybody has a hand in the till. And it
quickly becomes obvious that there are myriad ways to tinker with one aspect or
another to get a workable deal. It is, in the words of music supervisor Andrew
Halbreich, “always highly idiosyncratic.” For instance, in Morphine’s deal with
Rykodisc, the band doesn’t even own the publishing rights to its own music and
the label can use it anyway they see fit (usually out of courtesy, the label
will approach the band anyway); the sole exception being that the material
cannot be used in porno flicks.
That may be why as of late the Surfers and the Toadies have been popping up on
soundtracks. No, not because Morphine can’t score (musically that is) for the
likes of Ron Jeremy, but because putting together a deal to get a band on a
soundtrack can be such a test. Certain bands are popular with Hollywood for the
same reason that the budding trampettes in junior high are popular with young
boys: because they are willing and experienced. If you’re a director or a music
supervisor and you need music, that satisfies two of your main concerns right
there.
According to Epps, “A lot of bands aren’t willing to be on a soundtrack —
they don’t want their music put out in that format,” so she acknowledges that
“once you’re on a soundtrack you’re more likely to be on another. The movie
people know that your willing to do them and they have worked with you so it’s
easier.” It requires much less thought and effort to get someone who has done
it before. There’s a greater likelihood that they will want to do it again, and
working a deal won’t be such an unknown. You can start with the last one and
tweak it slightly depending on whether the band or artist is currently more or
less popular. The fact that you’ve done it all before just makes closing the
deal that much easier. So, you end up with this clique of bands that is getting
hooked up with project after project and often drawing a decent paycheck for
doing so.
Like seemingly everything else in the music business, doing soundtracks is
also part of the promotions racket. If the planets align correctly, and the
gods smile upon the project, then the film and music partnership is symbiotic.
Look at all of the exposure that both The Crow: City of Angels and Hole
got from the video for the cover of “Gold Dust Woman.” In fact, every artist
receiving royalties from that soundtrack is getting paid thanks to Courtney and
Co. How many of you were more inclined to go see the movie after seeing the
video with its teaser scenes? How many of you thought, “That rocks. I
gotta see it,” then went to see it?
It works. So much so that occasionally you get bizarre scenarios like with
Batman Forever. As many as eight songs on the soundtrack got cut from
the movie in the final stages of production. The only thing left was the song
by Seal that played during the closing credits. So, even though many of the
songs ended up on the cutting-room floor, they still made the soundtrack
because U2 sells records and a U2 video with Batman can help sell the movie.
Films like The Crow and Batman Forever, which look like they are
going to be hugely successful, can actually cause soundtrack Sadie Hawkinses.
“A lot of times, if it’s a big huge movie that a studio is putting millions of
dollars into, it would really benefit that artist to be part of that movie. For
the movie The Crow — the original — the soundtrack was as big as or
bigger than the movie. All these big, huge bands, like Stone Temple Pilots,
scrambled to get on that soundtrack. It was the breakthrough for modern rock on
soundtrack,” says Epps.
Well actually, the Singles soundtrack, which according to Soundscan
sold almost as many copies (1.6 million to The Crow‘s 1.8), has dibs on
the “breakthrough” distinction as it predates The Crow by about two
years, and jumped on the then-burgeoning “alternative rock” bandwagon by
compiling tracks from acts like Pearl Jam, Smashing Pumpkins, and Soundgarden.
Quibbling over details aside, in all three instances the movie and the
soundtrack helped the other put butts into seats and records onto the charts.
They also cemented the use of modern rock in movies as a sound policy, clearing
the way for the Surfers and the Toadies, and a host of others, to benefit.
Artists still have to be careful not to whore themselves out willy-nilly,
however. Even if it’s effective publicity, a band that does soundtracks isn’t
going to do everyone that comes its way. The band doesn’t want to overexpose
itself and dilute its own market. According to T.A.B., for every project that a
band does accept, there are a mess of others they turn down, and, as for the
Toadies, the band looks at a few factors — the script, the money, and the time
involved — in determining whether or not to do a soundtrack.
Uh, the script? The Cable Guy, Escape from L.A., Black Sheep, The
Craft? Okay, they’re rock & rollers, not Walt Stillmans. But why put
your songs to a movie that flops so hideously? Obviously, you don’t know the
film is going to flop and, more importantly, regardless of how the film itself
does, it’s worth it.
Sure, a successful movie with a good soundtrack can mean a good paycheck. It
can even break an artist, like Lisa Loeb from Reality Bites; but, and
here’s the beauty of the whole thing, it doesn’t take a successful movie to
sell a soundtrack. The soundtrack can succeed independently of a debacle to
which it may be attached (see Empire Records), and can still launch
careers for otherwise also-rans. Anyone heard of the Primitive Radio Gods
before The Cable Guy? They’re not downhearted, baby, they’re in heavy
rotation and making money.
And what if both the movie and the soundtrack are dismal failures? That’s the
other beauty. It’s unlikely that a one-off track — a B-side, a cover, some
other rarity, or a song written specifically for a project — will ever be held
against an artist. Even if the project reeks of riding the wave of the latest
trend, the artist is almost immune to backlash. Did people boycott the Lou Reed
show last March because he opted to do the Friends soundtrack? No. They
can be held accountable for their own full-length releases, like justifiably
getting panned for Set the Twilight Reeling, but the sin of the bad
soundtrack, even if it’s pure cash-in, is completely forgivable if not even
more forgettable.
From a band’s perspective, it’s the Pascal’s Wager of rock & roll. The
risk is nearly non-existent and the payoff is almost always there and
potentially huge. Big-name artists can command obscene fees up front and all
the artists can collect royalties and fees for rights. Unknowns can ride off
the coattails of the stars and rack up good money on the right project. Even
better, the possibility exists for unknowns to break into the modern rock
forefront. All of this can happen independent of the quality of the movie. The
musicians aren’t going to be judged by the quality of the film and bad movies
can have good soundtracks. To sweeten the deal, public opinion is going to
absolve you even if every aspect of the project is horribly bad.
Take it from the people on the inside. Jeff Rougvie, who has done some
soundtrack work at Rykodisc, admits, “Generally for the band it’s a no-risk
venture. It’s almost like free money. And if there’s a fluke chance that the
thing hits, then they rake.” n
This article appears in October 25 • 1996 and October 25 • 1996 (Cover).