Today, comrades of the aniblogorhomboellipsoid, I’m going to talk about art publishing industries and the survival, evolution, and/or death thereof. Why, you ask? Because, while I’m about as far from being a lawyer or business expert as one can be, I do it at least once in every writing outlet wherein I make an appearance — and besides, the opportunity has arisen to do it Macross-style. Just the way Nekki Basara would like it, no doubt.

Consider the evolution of the music industry in Macross — or, really, the devolution; when the population of the Macross becomes (you have seen Macross, haven’t you? If not, avert your eyes) the last apparent bastion of Earthling humanity in the universe, whatever sort of music industry existed is suddenly and thoroughly replaced by Linn Minmei and the business that has grown from her success up to that point. Which is a shame, because she’s Linn Minmei, the flakiest flaking flake that ever existed, and her manager is her cousin Kaifun, the douchiest douching douchebag (whose douchebaggery toward Minmei I’m willing to forgive, so little do I like her — she reminds me of a certain ex-girlfriend, you see). But this isn’t supposed to be a personal diatribe; the point is that neither of the aforementioned incest-inclined industry innovators is much of an innovator at all, and what we end up with post-end of the world is (I assume based on what little information Macross gives us) essentially a facsimile of the pre-end of the world music industry, with its towering capitalistic power structures (again, more assumptions, but they’re probably safe — we’ve lived through the early years of Macross’s near-future setting at this point, after all).

Let me just clarify that I’m not one of those doomsayers who accuse towering capitalistic power structures of muddling the artistic process. Hell, it’d be hard to be a self-respecting anime fan if I felt that way, given…well, you know. I simply mean to say that, value judgments aside, placing the future of an industry wholly in the hands of people who are content to do things the old way isn’t conducive to change, so what we end up with in Macross’s bleak depiction of 2012 can’t be said to resemble the Jonathan Coulton success story, what with all the professional managers managing about.

That’s not to say that the industry doesn’t change in the Macross universe; it simply takes longer than it might have under different circumstances. Perhaps we have Sharon Apple, Macross Plus’s delightfully creepy, usually nude AI entertainer who loses it entirely and starts blowing things up, to thank for the eventual change — or, rather, maybe we have her managers to thank, as some combination of neglect and mismanagement on their part makes Sharon into what she becomes. The general populace can’t have been particularly pleased with said managers, in any case. One thing’s certain: five years after Plus, when Nekki Basara’s Fire Bomber is offered a chance to record a single, traditional-looking music industry power structures and their concerns still exist — much to Basara’s dismay.

The concerns of producer Suzuki-san, alias Honey, are predictably populist: it’s his job to ensure that everyone involved in the process makes as much money as possible, and a larger fan base means more money, hence his urging Fire Bomber to play fashionably. Basara, being the idealistic artist that he is, will have none of it, and the foppish producer reacts as many do when faced with an ill-understood and potentially threatening approach: he succumbs to confusion and anger, with emphasis on the anger. One likely wouldn’t be too far off in suggesting that he simply fears for his livelihood.

Fortunately, there exists in the city of Macross 7 a producer who isn’t afraid to keep up with change, and even use it to her advantage — or simply to allow Fire Bomber to use it to their advantage, which is really all it takes.

Akiko represents the middle ground between capitalistic conservatism and outright revolution: she’s still a producer, after all, and probably necessary for publicity and such since the Macross 7 fleet’s citizens don’t seem to have access to a free-for-all communication network like our internet, but she acknowledges the nigh-inevitability of impending change and uses it to her benefit. Perhaps that’s giving her too much credit, but even allowing Fire Bomber the freedom to perform for free, or to hold public practice sessions, is evidence of her forward thinking — it’s unconventional by traditional standards, but well in line with Basara’s approach to music, and damn good advertising at that. What’s more, there’s no danger of wasting advertising costs if advertising costs practically nothing to begin with.

And while it’s true that Akiko probably couldn’t stop Basara from doing whatever he damn well pleased, she could simply fire his band, which she doesn’t do. After all, why should she? His unconventional methods work — in giving away music for free, and usually on the battlefield no less, he prompts financially secure fans to invest in his band while still allowing less fortunate fans access to his art, making him look like an altogether good guy, which can only increase his fan base in the end. He successfully uses his resources in the same way artists of all varieties use the internet in our own version of the 21st century, and, in doing so, he serves (or served, rather) as an indicator of things to come. I wonder if Basara’s successful avoidance of the way things normally go suggests a concern with changes in the business side of the music industry due to new technology, changes the likes of which we presently face, in place as long ago as 1994.