If you like to argue that modern pop music sucks, here's some ammunition. Beyoncé's 2016 album Lemonade had no less than 72 writers involved, and her single Hold Up had 15 alone. Compare that with, for example, Billie Jean, whose songwriting credits in their entirety read: "M. Jackson."
Nobody cares if artists write their own songs any more. Increasingly, the writers of contemporary pop hits are coming from the independent scene, with Bon Iver and Tame Impala singers moonlighting for Kanye West and Rihanna. Indie darling Josh Tillman, aka Father John Misty, took writing gigs with Beyoncé and Lady Gaga to, in his words, find out how sausages are made.
Artistic integrity has little value in the sausage factory of pop. Publishing companies send out briefs every month, hoping that somewhere in the world a faceless writer will pen the next smash for Jessie J, Zara Larsson or Zayn Malik. Songwriting camps -- immersive and collaborative retreats that bring together pro writers -- can churn out hits to order. Artists are reduced to brand ambassadors, karaoke performers of second-hand emotions.
Karma Sound Studios, the world-class recording facility improbably located on a nondescript road in Chon Buri's Bang Saray, is addressing the problem. Owner Chris Craker knows enough about the music business and cares enough about the development of new talent that he came up with a different kind of camp.
"We've done traditional songwriting camps and have been successful, but I understand the negativity around them," Craker explains. The music industry had also changed. "In the past, major labels used to develop artists, but now you have to go in with a body of work and a fan base. The artist needs a manager or a support network. What we're doing here is fulfilling that role. When people used to get signed, they could have one or two failure records and still be in their [initial] seven-album deal. Those days are gone."
Karma invited Life to its first Artist Development Retreat. The deal is simple -- fly to Thailand to write and record your music in a world-class studio with world-class producers. Go home with increased songwriting confidence, a bit of sunburn and a couple of radio-ready bangers. And the cost? The 10 guinea pigs for the inaugural camp got a sweet deal, but future camps will set you back around 40,000 baht per week.
The camp is curated by 33-year-old Londoner Conan Avery, a music producer and ex-casting director and consultant on the UK X Factor talent show. Growing disillusioned with the show's treatment of artists, he decided to mentor new talent himself. He's collected a group of 10 early stage artists who've flown in to Karma for a week or two.
"The camps in the past could be a bit of a sausage factory," Avery explains, "but the latest buzzword in the industry is authenticity."
Producer Shane Edwards, left, and pop hopeful Alvin. Patrick Kudej / Karma Studio
How are authentic pop sausages made? And what does authenticity even mean in the Auto-Tuned landscape of modern pop?
At Karma, everyone is staring at their phones. Every day begins with a blank slate -- an empty note on your phone. Each artist is paired with a producer, and each producer has different techniques to get the artists tapping lyrics into iPhones. Because most hits -- the big ones, the ones you hear in bars and clubs and nail salons across the globe -- deal with either love or the lack of love, the artists are asked therapist-couch questions in order to mine emotions and inspire lyrics.
Sessions with Mark Smith -- a German uber-producer who has had a hand in 10 No.1 singles -- are psychological first, musical second. His warm, avuncular demeanour (Craker praises his "incredibly good bedside manner") has songwriters opening up, and there are tears as heartache and even rehab struggles are divulged. Fast-forward 12 hours and these raw emotions are now the hook in a dance track that sounds ready to blast out in a nail salon near you.
Apart from the daily song creation, each artist is pulled aside for a photo shoot -- giving them "visual assets" for Instagram -- and also some counselling from Avery. He sees the artists as entrepreneurs; small-business owners whose product is themselves. Showcase gigs will be arranged in London and populated with Avery's music business contacts, but it's up to the artist to "manage their socials, curate their digital footprint and grow their brand" -- phrases heard with regularity at Karma.
"It's about getting people from A to B, not A to Z," Avery says. "We'll work out a strategy to move them forward. I'm not guaranteeing a hit record. I'm guaranteeing these people that I can get them to the next step."
Producer Alex Sypsomos, left, with Alyssa, at the Songwriting Camp in Karma Studios, Bang Saray. Patrick Kudej / Karma Studio
The Karma atmosphere is relentlessly positive, and the constant encouragement -- everything from a dodgy vocal take to the breakfast toast is "Wicked", "Awesome" or "Sick, man!" -- renders the camp a soft-edged safe space. Karma is well known for its relaxed but productive vibe -- any diva ego is carefully stage-managed, and the producers are friendly music obsessives who relax after 12 hours in the studio by playing each other songs for another six hours. At this retreat, their fizzy enthusiasm goes viral.
Of course, cranking out song after song means formulae are at play, and some of the producers can't resist a little tinkering with auto-tune program Melodyne -- music's monosodium glutamate. The artists on this camp are mostly after what Kurt Cobain would call radio-friendly unit shifters, which means that though the songs created sound like hits you've already heard, the artists are delighted.
All the participants talk of increased confidence in their writing and performing after only a couple of days at Karma. Young soul singer Alvin says: "It's helped me express myself effectively," while Londoner Sophie sums up the camp experience by saying: "I've found a voice I didn't know I had."
The next songwriting camp at Karma Sound Studios is in January. For more information, email info@karmasoundstudios.com.