One boss recently told his staff that anyone who spent more than 10 per cent of their time promoting anything other than blind tenors and movie spin-offs could consider themselves superfluous to the company's vision. Put plainly, there is no place for a serious artist in the shark pool of corporate recording. There may be some prestige attached to a big-label release, but it is founded on nostalgia. There may be a future for making classical records, but it lies within a cottage industry of owner-operated labels and internet communications. The giants are foredoomed.
Tomorrow belongs to the minnows and the start-ups.
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