Artist Rafa Esparza uses traditional adobe bricks in his installations and to bond with his father; Led Zeppelin goes to trial for "Stairway to Heaven" copyright case; Meet MØ, a Danish pop singer with the most-played song on Spotify.
Did Led Zeppelin steal 'Stairway to Heaven'?
By many accounts, Led Zeppelin’s “Stairway to Heaven” is the greatest song of the classic rock era. It may be the most popular rock song ever.
Although it was never released as a single, the album on which it appeared, the band’s untitled 4th album from 1971, has sold more than 37 million copies worldwide. And it’s the most requested song of all time on FM rock stations, where it’s been played millions and millions of times.
But now — 45 years after its release — the song’s writers, guitarist Jimmy Page and singer Robert Plant, are being sued for copyright infringement. The trial is scheduled to begin next week here in Los Angeles.
Ben Sisario, a staff writer for the New York Times, joined The Frame to talk about this case and the murky world of music copyright.
Interview Highlights:
Who filed the lawsuit and what is their claim?
The lawsuit was filed by a trustee who manages the songs of Randy Wolfe. He was known as Randy California. He was a member of the band Spirit which was a 60s psychedelic rock band. Randy Wolfe died in 1997 and he never filed any lawsuits about it although he did complain that Led Zeppelin had stolen his song. The song is called "Taurus" and it was released in 1968. It's a short instrumental piece which sounds a lot like the beginning of "Stairway To Heaven," with the acoustic guitar. They're both in the same key of A minor and they have a very similar pattern.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3Sdbg2is2zQ
When you listen to that song by Spirit, do you hear any of "Stairway to Heaven?"
I do. They are similar songs and there's no doubt about it. There's a similar chord progression that we're hearing there. It's not identical but they're played in a similar way with arpeggiated chords on the guitar. There's no doubt that they are similar, but copyright infringement is not just about, do these songs sound a little bit alike... The laws says that there has to be a substantial similarity is the idea. The lawyers in this case who are representing Spirit are going to have to prove that these two songs are close enough to be copies and that Led Zeppelin knew about the song in question.
In April, a U.S. District Court judge denied Led Zeppelin's request for summary judgment, saying: "While it is true that a descending chromatic four-chord progression is a common convention that abounds in the music industry, the similarities here transcend the core structure." Can you elaborate on what the judge means when he says the “similarities transcend the core structure?”
One of the key issues in this case and a lot of other cases like it — "Blurred Lines" was another one — is the question of: Are the things that are allegedly copied generic enough that nobody can really copyright them? If you sit down and play a C major chord on the piano and then somebody else records a song using a C major chord, they can't sue you because those are generic universal things in music.
Led Zeppelin was basically arguing that both songs have the descending pattern of the chromatic scale, but you can't copyright that. There are numerous other songs use that too. The song "Chim Chim Che-ree" from Mary Poppins has a similar structure. There are pieces from classical compositions from Bach's time that also use similar chord structures. Jimmy Page has sometimes described the writing of this part of the song as being a poor man's version of a Bach piece. So what the judge is saying is, yeah, you're right. This element is pretty common in music, but the way you've done it is unique enough that it's not totally generic. And on that basis, he said, I'm going to allow Spirit to challenge you in court.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k_mpaF5-SlU
We should point out that the band Spirit toured with Led Zeppelin in 1969 and that they definitely would have heard "Taurus" before recording "Stairway to Heaven." Could Page and Plant claim something like they were always involved with some dressing room debauchery and so never heard the opening act, Spirit, perform?
I don't know if they've used that particular one, but the plaintiff here has tried to bring up their drug use as a form of impeachment to say that Jimmy Page and Robert Plant are not reliable witnesses because of all the drugs they did in the past.
Are Jimmy Page and Robert Plant expected to be at the trial?
Yes, they're expected to be at the trial and they will probably testify. It will be fascinating to see what they have to say. They've given depositions in the case and there have been other filings where they've essentially said, yes our paths crossed a few times very early on in our career. It's been documented that there are certain music festivals where both Spirit and Led Zeppelin played, but they claimed that they were not watching them and they didn't know them. However, there are interviews from the time where Jimmy Page said things like, yeah I like Spirit, I think they're really cool. The hurdle for Spirit proving that Led Zeppelin knew about Spirit and that they might have heard their music — I think they're going to cross that hurdle pretty easily. I think that anybody listening to these two songs is going to hear the similarity. The question really is, is the thing that is alleged to be a copy here — is it unique enough to be copied or is it something that's kind of generic and is just music?
There have been many music copyright lawsuits over the years. One of the more recent and most famous is the case from 2014 when Marvin Gaye’s heirs successfully sued Robin Thicke and Pharrell Williams, claiming that the song “Blurred Lines” borrowed heavily from Gaye’s “Got to Give It Up.” Is there something about that verdict that makes copyright infringement easier to prove now?
I don't think it makes copyright infringement easier to prove, but it has become a very controversial verdict in the music industry. That case is being appealed. The controversy is really about this idea of a generic feel of a song. If you put the two songs together, "Blurred Lines" and the Marvin Gaye song "Got to Give It Up," they have a similar vibe and feel. But the notes on the page — if you were to play the two songs on the piano in the most stripped down way — they're not identical, they are different. The "Blurred Lines" decision is currently set at $5 million in damages, which is a huge amount of money in these cases. People in the music business say that this has given a lot of leverage to potential plaintiffs to say, you stole my song because your song feels like my song.
Artist Rafa Esparza moves a load of earth for 'Made in LA' exhibition
Rafa Esparza is an installation and performance artists who focuses on queer and Chicano history and was born and raised on L.A.'s East Side. All of this made him apprehensive about participating in this years "Made in L.A." biennial at the Hammer Museum.
"I remember when I first learned about the initial 'Made in L.A.,' I had questions about what the city was becoming, and what a biennial would do to the creative communities in the city," Esparza said.
"I love the diversity of cultural production in the city, and thinking about biennials as surveys, but also exhibitions that attempt to centralize a lot of cultural production, and do it within museums — this museum in particular being not as accessible to different art communities that are further east — [I wondered], Why does Los Angeles even need a biennial to begin with?"
Esparza likes to work outdoors. Particularly at The Bowtie Project, an 18-acre plot along the L.A. River near Atwater Village that's a partnership between Clockshop and the California Department of Parks and Recreation. That's where Esparza, along with his members of his family, have been making the adobe bricks that are central to Esparza's work. So when he finally agreed to accept the invitation for this year's "Made in L.A.," he brought the earth with him.
Esparza's installation, "Tierra," uses hundreds of adobe bricks to span the entirety of the Hammer's north terrace to create its own space outisde the white walls and stone floors of the museum.
The Frame's Oscar Garza spoke with Esparza while he was constructing his piece.
Interview Highlights
Why don't we start first with the significance of the title of your piece?
"Tierra" — well, it's literally the material that is being used, being brought in, to serve as a platform, but also as a ground for people to walk on. Probably the only time we get to experience, or be surrounded by, this much earth is when we're six feet under. This is something that I wanted to bring in to the museum.
These are adobe bricks, and they were made at a site on the L.A. River where you had previously done some work. These bricks were made with the help of your father and members of your family?
Yeah, so that initial batch, he had already taught me how to make them years prior. But I wanted to engage my siblings [and] my mother for the same reasons I was initially interested: knowing my father's history and his relationship to land, and acknowledging my distance from land and not having that relationship.
And this was your way of re-connecting?
Re-connecting, but also inheriting that knowledge and that way of working.
You have said that your father learned this craft in Mexico, where he is from. He actually did this for a living for a period of time?
He did. It's a common practice in the town that he's from. It's a small pueblo, Ricardo Flores Magón in Durango. Adobe-making is something that he started doing as a teenager to make money to survive. But he also would do it on his off days to make enough bricks that he saved up to eventually make his first home.
When you first asked your father to teach you how to make these bricks, how did you explain to him what you wanted to do and why you wanted him to teach you?
The very first time that I asked him to help me make bricks is, um — we actually weren't on speaking terms. I had just come out. I think for my father, at the time, it was very easy for him to not acknowledge and to maybe, perhaps, forget that I'm gay. And so, there was a sort of wall that he put up and we weren't speaking. It was an uncomfortable situation.
Our conversation [while we made bricks] was all about what we were doing, what was the task at hand, you know: it needs some more water, it needs less straw, hand me that — it was all that kind of communication.
We'd sift mounds of dirt, tons a day, and then mix in horse dung, which is what my father used in Magón when he made them, that was part of the recipe. The horse dung we got from these horse stables that belonged to my father's friends that are at the foothills of the San Gabriel Mountains in Altadena, so I'd go out and volunteer to clean out their stables.
You suffer for your art, Rafa
(Laughs) It was a lot of work!
I will be leading a workshop here on Father's Day weekend. I'll be with my father instructing people that are visiting the museum what the recipe is and how to make adobe bricks.
So these bricks, the dimensions of them are what?
The ones that we're making are 12-by-16 inches, and they're four inches thick. They're more like pavers as opposed to a brick, I think when people think [of a] brick, it's something they could hold with their hand, and for these, you need both hands. They weigh about anywhere between 35 and 45 pounds each. We brought about 1,400 [to the museum].
So, aside from the hundreds of adobe bricks that I've laid, as a sort of ground, but also a platform, there are 13 objects that were potentially going to make it onto this platform. And I say potentially because I invited 13 different peers to unearth these objects. All of these objects were buried in Elysian Park, which is the site of where some of the earliest displacement in Los Angeles happened, in Chavez Ravine.
And you had buried these pieces.
I had buried them there. I buried all of these different objects there. For instance, this chair.
And in this chair, there is a cactus that has been embedded in the [seat]. Tell me the significance of that.
I wanted to bring in something that could speak to resilience. It's been really beautiful to see how this plant has done exactly that. When I buried it a few months ago, I thought that would be it for the nopal, and Aram [Moshayedi, a co-curator of "Made in L.A."], who dug it up with me, he asked me if it was dead and I assured him it was, because I thought it was. And, literally, just over the last two weeks, these little nopalitos [cactus pads] started sprouting. Yeah, it's perfect, it's doing what it does, it's surviving and living.
What finally convinced you that you should participate in the show?
The curators [including Hamza Walker] were both — and have been throughout the entire process — really open to having these conversations. I've thought about my various workings with adobe in reimagining platforms or spaces that feel more specific and relevant to the ideas that I want to put forth. Bringing in the adobe is a continuation of those ideas, as well as responding to my relationship towards cultural institutions, like The Hammer, in the city.
"Made in L.A." opens June 12 and continues through Aug. 28 at the Hammer Museum in Brentwood.
The bedroom beginnings of Danish pop star MØ
The most listened to song on Spotify is not from big pop acts such as Justin Bieber, Adele or The Weeknd but from Danish musician Karen Marie Ørsted, better known by her stage name MØ.
The song "Lean On," a collaboration with Major Lazor and DJ Snake, is close to reaching 800 million plays on the streaming service. The Frame spoke with MØ about how she got her start, finding inspiration in the Spice Girls, playing in punk bands and finally reaching her goal as a singer and songwriter.
INTERVIEW HIGHLIGHTS
When did you first start playing music?
I've been playing music since I was seven years old. It was because of the Spice Girls that I started making music, and I actually just kept on making music ever since. It became my passion very quickly.
Ever since I was seven, it was just my big dream and hope to become a pop star, like a childhood dream, and I think up until the day when things started to happen — of course I never knew if it would happen — but I just dreamed and hoped for it so bad.
When did you first perform professionally?
The first time I performed professionally, I think I was 19. I was in this punk band for five years. The transition from punk music and playing now electro-pop, I was attending art school and they were like, "You should try to do something on your own," so I just started on my own, rapping actually on these trashy beats and that became MØ eventually.
How did your debut album, "No Mythologies to Follow," come about?
During the album, I was recording vocals on my own at my own bedroom at my parents' house. I wrote the lyrics and the melodies and then I had a producer that was working with me.
What was your first tour like?
I remember the first tour as MØ was in New York during the CMJ festival, and it was me and my crew and we would sleep in this tiny hotel room. We had to share these single beds and I was lying with my keyboard player's feet on my head for four days. But it was great, we had such a good time.
Touring has changed since 2012, but it's not fancy or anything like that. Now we usually tour in a tour bus, and that's very nice. It becomes your little home and in a way it's easy. You're on the road with your friends, and I love traveling, and you play music which is the thing I love most in the whole world. You just do your thing and you have a tour manager who tells you when to wake up, when to eat, when to take a shower and that's also kind of nice. Then when you have some spare time you can do music. Life is just great on tour.
Where do you want to go from here?
My next goal is to keep on writing better and better songs. The main thing I want to do is communicate with people and share my thoughts and my feelings. I want to be better at that and touch even more people. That's what I want to do as an artist.