There comes a time in any band when the members have to sit down and figure out how the pie they bake every night will be legally divvied up. In the unlikely event a band makes good money, or, more likely, breaks up, who gets what and did what invariably becomes an issue. I’m talking about copyrights—rock music’s version of a prenuptial agreement. The sharing of precious things is easy until there’s a break up and riffs turn into rifts.  

Arguing over rights is the number four reason why bands break up, so you have to be careful. In case you’re wondering, the third reason bands break up is that one of the members gets a girlfriend (or boyfriend) who starts coming to rehearsals, the second reason bands break up is drugs—too much, not enough, unequal distribution, memory loss (I was in a band that had forgotten we had a keyboard player and when he showed up at a gig it started a fight. Of course, drugs were involved…). And the number one reason bands break up—the singer is an asshole.

How rights are handled can tell a lot about a band. Lennon and McCartney shared writing credits for each other’s songs, even though they didn’t necessarily contribute to each other’s songwriting. Paul allegedly wrote “Eleanor Rigby” all by his lonesome, and John allegedly wrote “In My Life” all by his. And for you Sinatra fans out there, George Harrison wrote “Something.” That George and Ringo’s songs were copyrighted differently speaks to the Beatles’ earliest days when John and Paul were so close they chose to share credit on everything penned together or independently (admiration for Leiber/Stoller notwithstanding). And most things penned independently by either John or Paul ended up with some amount of contribution from the other, which helped make the songs what they are today. But then George Harrison famously contributed some of the Beatles’ most memorable licks, and with few exceptions was never awarded writing credit for them. And George Martin’s production took the songs to a level rarely achieved in rock ‘n’ roll. But he didn’t write the songs, except for a few string arrangements, so no copyright for him.  

It does get sticky awfully fast, and who is to say what the right way is? It depends on the band dynamic, I suppose. A few bands give credit to all members regardless of who wrote the song, and I hear and see the merits of that since each member puts their mark on it and bears responsibility for giving the song life as the listener knows it.  

But songwriting, like most creative endeavors, is a birthing process, and birth into the world is brought about by the writer (mother), who most likely sat alone somewhere pining into a tape recorder or tapping on an iPhone, or the tried and true method of spilling tears and whisky onto a notebook while clutching and stroking an acoustic guitar. I don’t have a handy description for the role played by those who helped arrange the song and interpreted it through bass, drums, guitar, and vocals. They are parents of a sort, but the connection isn’t blood like it is with the original writer. Does the difference matter? Only if we stop getting along or one of us gets rich.

But, in many instances, the song isn’t the song without the band member’s imprint on it. For example, the Who’s “Love, Reign O’er Me”, like almost every Who song, was sung by Roger Daltrey and written by Pete Townshend, whom I plan to marry one day (I’ll explain in a future column once the restraining order expires). I cannot imagine that song without Daltrey’s powerful voice. That’s a song that can make you hurt right along with Roger, whose deep need for love affects the way the song is sung. But in reality and copyrights, it’s Townshend’s emotions, or at least his character’s from Quadrophenia, and not Daltrey’s. And the inspiration isn’t a dire need to find love in parched darkness, which, to me, is how Daltrey wails it. According to Townshend, it was inspired by a comment from an Indian mystic. I prefer Daltrey’s desperate hour as the source. And because he puts so much ballsy emotion into everything he does (you should hear him order a latte), who is to say I’m wrong? And therein lies an aspect of one of rock’s great marriages—Townshend’s sensitive message with Daltrey’s violent ache—likewise, with McCartney’s chipper optimism and Lennon’s depressed outbursts.  

Still, Daltrey has no songwriting credit on all but a couple Who songs. See me, feel me, touch me, heal me. “Pay me” and “credit me” are not part of Tommy’s aphorisms. And, assuming Daltrey remains properly rewarded for his work, that is how it should be, yes? He is the messenger in this example I threaten to wear out. But the message belongs to Townshend.

It is also worth mentioning that drummers cannot generally copyright drum parts. Melodies, chord changes, lyrics—all are properly copyrightable. Rhythm is not, at least on its own. I think the law is written this way to save the extraordinary expense of explaining something legal to a drummer. And well, since drool is not yet considered a valid signature, so much the better.

As someone who loves to pore over liner notes, which is probably why I buy so few downloads, I appreciate seeing different songwriters for different songs within the same band and album. It contributes to the greater story of the band and their music. Bass players write differently than guitar players who write differently than keyboardists. Even if the story is the same, sometimes it’s good to hear it in a different voice, or from a different angle or set of emotions.

Now that technology has made it easy to bring in songs with all the parts written, the potential for copyright controversy has lessened at the expense of collaboration. Unless you’re a band in name only and really just hired guns with lousy pay, I am dead set against bringing in a song with all the instrumentation recorded. Even if you’re fine with the other members coming up with their own parts, you’ve tainted them with your take and your technology. The brave and honorable thing is to show as raw a song as possible, just enough so you can tell it is a song, and then let your mates carve, build, break, and mold their instrumental identities onto it. Let go and let it happen naturally, that’s why you’re playing with them, right? Place the rights as best you can, perhaps discuss at a luncheon where no expensive musical instruments can be smashed. And for god’s sake, share in the booty and get back to making rock ‘n’ roll. Lawyers kill, after all.

In my current band, we have yet to cross the rickety copyright bridge, but it is approaching. Personally, I feel that whoever brings in a raw but fully formed song (i.e. verse, chorus, bridge, and basic arrangement), gets the writing credit. Yes, my riffs and heart and soul may be all over it, but it’s all over something someone else introduced. And if the song comes out of a jam, or a couple raw parts, then everyone in the room gets credit, even the singer.

Read more from Riot Gear!:

The Bridge to Somewhere

Interview with Rush’s Alex Lifeson

Techno-Grinch