Cái luật rừng, cá lớn nuốt cá bé, cây lớn che bóng mặt trời của cây con tưởng chỉ xảy ra trong đời sống động vật, thực vật ai dà lại hoành hành trong đời sống loài người, lại là những người làm văn nghệ.
Bao giờ mới có một đạo luật bảo vệ tác quyền, bao giờ mới có một hội đích thực bênh vực công trình sáng tác của giới cầm bút?
Và bao giờ những người như... Sơn mới hết lang thang trên những đường phố đèn xanh đèn đỏ, thèm một tách cà phê, một ngụm khói Capstan nồng ấm như đôi môi người tình?
Bao giờ mới có một đạo luật bảo vệ tác quyền, bao giờ mới có một hội đích thực bênh vực công trình sáng tác của giới cầm bút?
Và bao giờ những người như... Sơn mới hết lang thang trên những đường phố đèn xanh đèn đỏ, thèm một tách cà phê, một ngụm khói Capstan nồng ấm như đôi môi người tình?
In the past Trịnh Công Sơn enriched the music publishers and cassette companies, he now wanders without a penny to his name. He'd be very lucky if some teahouse recognizes him and treats him to a bottle of soda without calculating the complimentary price of the... tearoom.
The law of the jungle, big fish swallow little fish, big trees shade the sunlight from the little ones, you would think only happened among plants and animals without taking licenses in the life of mankind, especially through who make art.
When will there be a law to protect intellectual property, when will there be an authentic organization to protect author's creative projects?
And when will people like... Sơn be able to end their wandering on the streets with red lights and green lights, desiring a cup of coffee, inhale a puff of Capstan, warm like a lover's lips?
Lương Diệu Thanh, "Văn chương hạ giới," Tiền tuyến 6 tháng 8 1974.
One of the main conclusions of my book chapter "Songs of Sympathy in Time of War: Commercial Music in the Republic of Vietnam" (in the volume Republican Vietnam, 1963-1975: War, Society, Diaspora)
was that this was a lucrative time to be a musician. Songwriters sometimes were able to buy a car from the royalties of a song. Musicians often both worked on a salary for the government (usually the security services) and also had sidelights performing at nightclubs, cafes, and military bases. Singers earned a great deal of money performing on the radio, television and at đại nhạc hội (music festivals).The payment of royalties was usually not fair -- often the songwriter only received a flat payment when a song was recorded. When tape recording came along, piracy became rampant, further depriving songwriters income due to them. However, by and large the years of the Republic of Vietnam was a great time to be music creator and a music performer.
The image from 1974 of Trịnh Công Sơn wandering the streets of Saigon needing to bum a cigarette or a glass of soda seems far-fetched, but, not baseless.
nguồn ảnh: Tiền tuyến 27 tháng 2 1974
Trịnh Công Sơn never worked for any branch of the Republic of Vietnam's security services (although I suspect he could have if he wanted -- he had many highly placed friends). He did not sing in professional venues. He did not play guitar at a professional level. His income would come from songwriting royalties. Many of his songs were recorded to disc and tape, but as I noted above, these were usually compensated for by one-time payments. There was no system of paying ongoing royalties.
Most of his songs were published. I think in many cases he sold the songs outright when they were published as sheet music. A very large number of his songs were published in collections by Nhân Bản. As far as I can tell, Nhân Bản published nothing but Trịnh Công Sơn song anthologies between 1967 and 1972. Some of these were released outside of the formal censorship system and perhaps could be considered black market. I have to believe that these songbooks were widely available and sold in fairly large numbers. Who was behind Nhân Bản? And did Nhân Bản pay Trịnh Công Sơn regular royalties?
Overall, the years of the Republic of Vietnam was a great time to be a musician. However, starting in 1973 opportunities for musicians began to dry up. This was owing to the withdrawal of American forces and the economic stimulus they brought to the economy. When you add to that the popularity of new audio cassette technology and the rampant piracy that it promoted, it became harder for creative musicians to profit from their work.
The overall premise of the article quoted above is correct. The society of that time did not have laws or enforcement that allowed creators to receive the payment they should have been due for their creative work. However, was Trịnh Công Sơn's situation as desperate as the author claimed? That's not impossible.
Underlying this, I believe was an aesthetic and worldview the Trịnh Công Sơn must have held. He seems to have held a refined notion of the value of creativity. That its value lays outside of matters of money and payment. Nghệ thuật vị nghệ thuật. That was a notion that would not work in the Democratic Republic of Vietnam in the north. Music had to serve the nation and if you couldn't or wouldn't direct your creative abilities in that direction you went silent. (Đoàn Chuẩn is a good example of that).
In the Republic of Vietnam you could create music that did not serve the nation. But it should serve the marketplace or you could go hungry. Not only did you have to serve the marketplace, you had to actively attend to your business interests. That did not appeal to Trịnh Công Sơn. As this 1974 article points out, a lot of other people over the years found it in their business interest to promote and sell Trịnh Công Sơn's music.
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