By Murray Forman
Illustrations by Roy Germon

What hath Shawn wrought? Only yesterday, it seems, pundits and corporate watchdogs were howling about the seismic effects of online music swapping, predicting the recording industry’s imminent death.

In fact, it probably was only yesterday. Ever since former Northeastern freshman Shawn Fanning stumbled upon the file-sharing idea that spawned Napster in 1999, dire prophesies around illegal music distribution have been voiced again and again. And for good reason. Recording industry revenues have continued to fall. Major corporations are in collective chaos, struggling to reassert their dominance as music lovers gleefully download songs for free.

Napster remains the stuff of legend. Fanning, who recognized the need for the program after watching frustrated college roommates search for their favorite songs online, envisioned it as an easy way to locate and access music buried in the dense maze of cyberspace. Twelve months after its launch, Napster had attracted more than twenty-five million users.

Several years and many technological innovations later, an expanding cross section of Internet users are logging on to grab free songs. But the practice still skews sharply toward youth. Not surprisingly, it’s pursued with greatest vigor on college campuses, where some of the world’s most digitally savvy citizens are housed.

Everyone agrees Napster ignited a music-distribution revolution. But what’s the state of music downloading today? Is it out of control? Unethical? Irresistible? Increasingly corporate? All of the above? Whatever it is, it’s creating headaches and forcing new protocols at Northeastern and other U.S. universities.

Rad ploy or bad boy?

The upheaval’s primary instigator has become Huntington Avenue’s most famous freshman dropout. Two years ago, Fanning entered the Northeastern name into the public record when he described Napster’s operating logic to Orrin Hatch at a Senate Judiciary Committee hearing. He even played himself in last year’s feature film The Italian Job (the plot has him stealing the program from a snoozing Northeastern roommate).

Depending on your views on illicit downloading, Fanning will forever be associated with radical resistance to corporate might or unrepentant thievery. Yet as Rick Mickool, Northeastern’s executive director of information services, suggests, Fanning’s roguish reputation may not necessarily be detrimental to the university. “My personal opinion is we should be proud of an affiliation with the innovation of peer-to-peer networking,” Mickool says. “It’s unfortunate that, like so many innovations, it can be used for wrong as well as good.”

The music world has changed since Napster’s birth. As many as thirty-five million adults a year, it’s estimated, have clicked their way to free tunes. The Recording Industry Association of America (RIAA) is aggressively pursuing frequent freeloaders, suing septuagenarians and preteens alike. Record companies, such as Sony and Universal Music, are gradually introducing their own electronic distribution and sales systems, attempting to market music at prices only marginally lower than those at traditional bricks-and-mortar outlets. Apple has launched iTunes, its ever-expanding online music “store.”

Even Napster, the sprightly demon that started all the trouble, has been resurrected as Napster 2.0, a considerably tamer corporate entity offering pay-for-play service (the original service shut down in 2002, a casualty of legal challenges and debt).

Talk to a handful of Northeastern undergraduates, who have grown up in the age of the personal computer, and they will say the web serves as their primary music system. Their allegiance to the Internet as their source of information and entertainment will only strengthen, now that more sophisticated file-sharing programs, such as BitTorrent, are delivering films and TV shows along with music. Already, the first Napster seems like the online equivalent of the video game Pong.

A spring 2003 survey conducted by the Pew Internet and American Life Project discovered that 56 percent of full-time students download music from the Internet; for adult Internet users, the figure was at 29 percent. Though pinpointing the reasons behind these numbers is difficult, Steve Jones, the project’s senior research fellow, believes cultural history influences attitudes and online practices.

“In general, people tend to think of media as free or, at least, largely free,” Jones explains. “TV comes to us for free, or for a monthly fee in the case of cable. Music comes to us via radio for free. Further, the cost of music CDs has been an issue for many consumers, particularly those old enough to have seen the transition from vinyl to CD, for whom the cost of an album has about tripled.”

Northeastern students interviewed agree: CD prices are a powerful motivation to download songs illegally. It’s altogether logical, really. Why wouldn’t a technological innovation developed by a college freshman catch on with his generation—technically adept, fiercely devoted music fans who often live on meager resources and carry heavy student loans? For them, free online music is analogous to sixty-nine-cent ramen noodle packs, discount futons, and cheap beer at happy hour.

Rules of behavior

This means downloading requires on-campus oversight. “Most institutions, us included, were impacted—and surprised—by the dramatic spike in bandwidth usage that started around fall 2002,” Mickool says. Northeastern’s information services officials responded to the demand by implementing technical innovations that broadened bandwidth and channeled Internet usage, a process known as traffic shaping.

Unlike some institutions, Northeastern hasn’t chosen to block file sharing completely, since, as Mickool carefully explains, peer-to-peer file sharing “is entirely legal from a site-service standpoint. It is often what gets shared on them that’s illegal. We don’t and can’t monitor content.”

Still, the university’s appropriate Internet use policy, available at , indicates the institution “reserves the right, with or without notice, to monitor, record, limit, or restrict any account holder’s usage” and to “monitor, record, inspect, copy, remove, or otherwise alter any data, file, or system resources.” According to Mickool, the policy intent has always been to maintain essential Internet services for all users, ensuring that high-volume practices like music downloading don’t overwhelm the system. “The students’ privacy is very important to us,” he says.

There’s another reason to manage downloading. By 2002, many retail record outlets adjacent to college campuses were registering sharp sales drops. Connecting the dots, the recording industry determined that students were exploiting their institutions’ high-speed Internet connections to ramp up their online larceny. So the RIAA turned its guns on the nation’s universities, threatening legal action unless campus administrations policed student Internet use more stringently, restricting illegal file sharing.

Now students living in Northeastern housing are expected to rigidly conform to the university’s appropriate-use policy. Students are given printed guidelines defining the policy, and they also hear about it during orientation sessions. Before they can register with the campus ResNet system, they are required to sign a form acknowledging that they have read the policy.

For their part, Mickool says, the university’s IS officials “do not stop downloading or file sharing as long as it obeys copyright and the amount of bandwidth usage is appropriate.” But they do keep a particular eye out for frequent or high-volume file sharing: “We record the top talkers and pay them a visit,” Mickool says. Occasionally, students are cut off from ResNet privileges because of excessive use or other policy breaches.

In some instances, the university conducts an inquiry after the RIAA accuses a student of copyright infringement. “Depending on the nature of the incident, the student is either referred to the student judicial board or to the police,” Mickool explains. “We don’t jump to respond, and we don’t turn over a student’s information unless we receive a subpoena from a Massachusetts court,” something that has occurred only a handful of times.

“Once we get a subpoena,” Mickool says, “the university steps out, and it’s between the student and the RIAA. The institution’s response is that you have to find legal representation.”

David versus Goliath

Despite the administration’s coordinated efforts to raise awareness about appropriate use and compliance, many students seem unfamiliar with the details of the Internet guidelines or the possible consequences if they violate them. Asked about the policy, Caitlin, a freshman who lives in Stetson West, says, “I think there was something about it during orientation. It’s in our introduction packet.” She reports she downloads no more than two songs a week and has about 800 songs on her hard drive.

“I don’t download too much, or they’ll cut me off,” says Caitlin (not her real name; the names of all students have been changed). “We were told that the top five users were cut off the Internet, but I don’t think it’s a problem for me.”

Abby, a freshman housed in Melvin Hall, doesn’t remember getting any special instructions about music downloading. “I think it’s okay,” she says. “I definitely didn’t hear anything. I assume that they think it’s all right.” She adds, “I probably wouldn’t do it as much at home.”

But as students click and store, the recording industry is watching, distinguishing itself within the business world by challenging members of its core consumer base.

“The RIAA is correct in their position that illegal downloading violates copyright law,” says Bruce Ronkin, music professor and College of Arts and Sciences interim associate dean for undergraduate affairs. “However, I think the way they are suing individuals is a bad public relations move. They’re acting like the big bully on the playground.”

According to Reebee Garofalo, author of Rockin’ Out: Popular Music in the U.S.A., young fans have traditionally been skeptical of the major record labels, which reap massive profits while undercompensating all but a few top acts. The current legal battles have only reinforced this tension, he thinks. “Consumers have never had label loyalty,” he says. “Now they are clearer about who they don’t like. The fact that this has become such a hot topic has politicized a generation and helped turn telecommunications policy—a debate most people would have found boring—into a sexy issue.”

With “around two or three thousand” songs downloaded onto her hard drive, April, a middler who lives off-campus, confirms Garofalo’s perspective, describing file sharing as a radical impulse. “Music downloading gives the power back to the listener,” she says. “CDs are way too expensive. Conglomerates are just mad that they’ve been out-schemed by the public. Music should be about the music, not about the money.”

April says she does buy new music under certain conditions, if it’s being sold by a small independent record company, for instance, or “if it’s a band I really like and want to give money to.” Her reasoning points to an ethical foundation underlying many young people’s music-consumption habits, part of a basic David-versus-Goliath view of the culture industries.

Four years ago in this magazine, Ronkin described the major record labels as lagging behind the digital curve and said that free online services like Napster and Kazaa were simply meeting an unfulfilled demand. Today, he calls the new pay-for-play services still “a transitional technology.” “Most people will stop [illegal] downloading when it becomes easier to do it the legal way,” he says—when the legitimate systems are more cost-effective, for instance, and employ better navigation tools. Ronkin believes the entertainment industry is pushing more and more toward the online distribution of films, TV programs, and books, as well as music.

Garofalo agrees that we’re just seeing the tip of the corporate online-distribution iceberg. “There is a sense in which the industry litigation was always about buying the time that would enable the majors to enter the business of online music on their own terms,” he says. “New services like Napster 2.0 and the iTunes music store are evidence of this beginning to happen.”

For now, none of the Northeastern students interviewed have purchased songs from an online service, and they say they don’t intend to as long as free options prevail. Nor are many buying the hip $250­$500 MP3 players, such as the Apple iPod. Most say they burn downloaded songs onto CDs and listen to music on portable disc players when they work out at the Marino Center or read in Snell Library.

Somebody’s watching me

In January, the Pew Internet Project took some people by surprise when it reported that illegal downloading had decreased substantially, from 29 percent to 14 percent of adult Internet users. Steve Jones isn’t convinced the figure signals a trend. “It remains to be seen whether that decline is permanent,” he says, “and whether particular segments of the market—young people, in particular—abandon file sharing in large numbers.”

Though the recording industry believes its legal threats have scared off many young scofflaws, Mickool thinks that’s only partly true at Northeastern. He says the university’s combined policy-and-technology approach has made a big difference in alleviating the campus’s downloading problem, noting that “usage has leveled off” over the past twelve months.

In truth, the RIAA’s litigious strategies haven’t endeared the association to university information managers any more than they have to students. The RIAA notifies Northeastern when they suspect a student of copyright infringement, providing the university with the alleged perpetrator’s IP address and the dates and times of the violations.

With a hint of resignation, Mickool acknowledges the RIAA “has created a lot of busy work for us. We investigate every potential copyright infringement complaint. Last summer, we were dealing with four or five a day, and each is time-consuming.” Over the course of a year, the university fields several hundred complaints.

But the RIAA may soon have a weapon much more powerful than litigation at its disposal. A company called Audible Magic claims to have technology that can automatically identify copyrighted songs on file-sharing systems and block their download. Another company, known as Snocap, is said to be pursuing similar technology. At its helm? A twenty-three-year-old named Shawn Fanning.

Many students have already become more cautious. Abby says she avoids the popular file-sharing systems, which industry monitors troll to find major downloading activity. “I use Northeastern’s Direct Connect,” she says. “I used to use Kazaa, but I don’t want to get caught.”

With roughly 300 tunes stored on her hard drive, Abby estimates she downloads two or three songs a day, a fairly conservative number by her peers’ standards. Seated cross-legged in a chair in front of her computer, surrounded by stuffed animals and images of her beloved New Jersey Nets, she effortlessly clicks and slides a cursor across song titles. The room fills with the sound of her latest conquest, an older song from her childhood—nostalgia surfing is common among students. “I definitely love the convenience,” she says. “It’s spur of the moment. I get in, log on, and I’m ready to go.”

Though wary, Abby’s a realist about the slim chances of catching any heat. “In the dorm, downloading tunes is nothing new,” she says. “Everyone does it. I don’t know anyone who doesn’t.”

Rockin’ in the free world

A few miles away in Jamaica Plain, Bill, a junior, shares an apartment with two other students. The walls are festooned with pop culture detritus. Virtually every flat surface is covered with music and style magazines or textbooks. As we slide our chairs in front of the computer in one room, an empty beer can skitters away, coming to rest against the unmade bed on the floor.

The room’s most imposing contents: Twin turntables—a DJ’s wheels of steel—and a Macintosh G4 computer, with JBL wall-mounted speakers. A crate of vinyl twelve-inch singles sits adjacent to the computer, an interesting juxtaposition for the contemplation of contemporary music distribution. There can be no doubt—music happens here.

Since this is the apartment’s fastest computer, Bill says, all the roommates use it to download music. He rolls his eyes ever so slightly when I describe my dial-up modem (I’d be unable to download music efficiently even if I wanted to). I’m being terribly late-twentieth century, the glance says, and he is not impressed. With a DSL connection and a free program called Acquisition pulled from the Internet, he and his roommates are wired and ready for illicit action.

For Bill, downloading’s speed and convenience are less important than the Internet’s vast wealth of available music, coupled with the obvious cost benefits. “I used to spend so much money on crappy stuff,” he explains. “I still buy CDs, but I definitely buy less. I used to make purchases based on reviews, spending hundreds of dollars on things I would read about. I don’t want to do that anymore.”

Bill is not what he terms “singles-oriented.” “I’m not concerned about what CDs or albums the songs are on,” he says. “I’m more interested in an artist’s overall career.” He estimates that, among the three roommates, there are over 1,500 songs on the computer’s hard drive. “I’ve downloaded a lot of older stuff I’d never seek out in a music store,” he says.

Time for him to give me an instructive tour. I knew the biggest pop hits—such as OutKast’s ubiquitous “Hey Ya!”—would be online, and they are. But I throw out some artist names and song titles I think might stump the system. I am wrong. Conductor Seiji Ozawa is represented. So are classical musicians Isaac Stern and Itzhak Perlman. Folkie Greg Brown. Bluegrass fiddler Mark O’Connor. Jazz pianist Chick Corea. Venezuelan salsa star Oscar D’León. Montreal Franco-rappers Dubmatique. Even a relatively rare B-side, the vituperative rap track “Hit ’Em Up,” by the late Tupac Shakur, emerges in several remixed versions.

In three minutes, the ten songs we download are burned onto a disc. With a subtle flourish, Bill whips out a Sharpie pen and labels the CD. “The longest thing about downloading is writing the titles,” he says.

Bill isn’t sure he’d be as nonchalant about illegal downloading if he lived on campus. But as he sits with one hand on the mouse and another on the keypad, rocking in time to the rhythms booming from his speakers, the look on his face is unmistakable. It shouts, It doesn’t get much better than this.

Murray Forman is an assistant professor of communication studies. He wrote about pop music on television in the years before Elvis for the March 2003 issue.