Musicians of the early 21st century, you have inherited a rough climate. The major-label system that has propped up the popular music business for a little under a century is falling apart (this is mostly good, ‘cuz they were going to screw you over anyway). According to a March 2008 Billboard article, there are over three million artists on MySpace, so good luck getting noticed there, no matter how many sparkly flash icons you’re currently utilizing. The free-floating, non-label, selling-your-album-direct-on-the-Internet method might look tempting, but it would appear that nobody cares unless your last name is Reznor or if your band name rhymes with “Tadiohead.” Sorry.

It would seem that all the power and money in music has shifted to licensing. Right about now you’re thinking to yourself, “Whatever, man, I don’t care about money. I’m an artist.” Well, to paraphrase Mr. David Cross, it’s very difficult to buy a house with integrity. It’s also difficult to exchange that integrity for rent, clothing, hygienic products and food. You can wear that Ian MacKaye mask for as long as you want, but it still won’t change the fact that “selling out” is an antiquated concept, and that song placement in TV shows, movie soundtracks, video games and commercials can do nothing but help you. Sure, those to whom you’re licensing your music may completely screw things up from time to time (best to avoid any and all deals with Australian-themed steakhouses), but isn’t it worth it to keep a roof over your head?

These traditional licensing opportunities are a finite resource, but the more people take advantage of them, the more difficult it will become to hitch your wagon to them. You’re going to have to dig deeper. Either that, or you should give these five words some heavy thought: professional sport team fight songs. Two more words for you: Untapped market.

How many college fight songs can you sing off the top of your head? Even those with a minimal amount of sports knowledge could hum a few bars of “The Victors,” “Across the Field,” or “Boomer Sooner.”

Now how many pro team fight songs can you name, let alone sing? The fight song is highly underutilized in professional American sports, with the exception of football, where it’s mostly used as a reminder of long-passed glory days; in 2008, the ever-woeful Detroit Lions’ “Gridiron Heroes” exists only in song.

An important distinction: Fight songs are different from stadium anthems, those pop songs like Gary Glitter’s “Rock and Roll Part 2” and Todd Rundgren’s “Bang the Drum All Day” which have found second lives as part of the aural wallpaper of the modern sporting event experience. Fight songs are individualized, not a part of a moldy Jock Jams compilation.

This is an entire genre being left wide open, waiting for musicians to step up and say, “Excuse me, Mr. or Mrs. Millionaire Team Owner, if you’re not too distracted by the conglomerate that you spend most of your time running, would you mind listening to this song that I wrote as a rallying point for the everyday people who continue to pay attention to your club in spite of the fact that you won’t stop raising ticket prices and some times black-out local television coverage? Just think of the marketing potential.” You’ve got at least the same chance of getting a response as you would if you were approaching Sony BMG.

Plus, you’ve got a built-in fanbase. While certainly not as discerning as the average music snob, sports fanatics are probably just as fickle, and definitely more concerned about tradition. Since their inception, the New York Mets have employed several songs in several styles, but none have had the staying power enjoyed by 1961’s “Meet the Mets.”

While “Meet the Mets” is exemplary in its durability and its non-football subject matter, it’s also notable for breaking another fight song norm: It’s not a march. Songwriters Ruth Roberts and Bill Katz instead chose to couch their tribute to the Amazin’s in a swinging pop arrangement that sounds like the theme song to a forgotten Hanna-Barbera cartoon. It’s sound evokes both team spirit and images of the Mets’ baseball-headed mascot, Mr. Met, getting trapped on the Jetsons’ dog-walking treadmill. Fight songs can’t help but be a little bit cheesy, and this one’s a big, delicious wheel of cheddar - don’t be afraid to take a few pieces.

Just don’t follow in the steps of composer Leo Offman, who gave the same song to the Miami Dolphins and the now-defunct Houston Oilers, alternatively called “Miami Dolphins No. 1” and “Houston Oilers No. 1.” While over-specificity ought to be avoided — there’s no better way to make your song sound dated and clumsy than including some goofily-named athletes — you shouldn’t be able to switch teams in and out of a fight song so easily, particularly when those teams play in the same conference (things must have gotten incredibly awkward when the Oilers beat the Dolphins in the first round of the 1978 playoffs). Listen closely to the versions of the songs preserved by YouTube,

and you’ll hear the melody of “Dixie” sneaking in under the cover of chorus, as if somebody opened a Civil War-themed musical greeting card during the recording.

Fight songs are screaming to be diversified, but there are a few rules you should follow to achieve maximum marketability:

-Simplicity is key, because this is the kind of song that people should be able to pick up after hearing it once or twice. Pantera wrote a fight song for the NHL’s Dallas Stars (“Puck Off”) that’s little more than alternating shouts of “Dallas!” and “Stars!”

-Use one, two or all three of the following words in varying combinations: “Go,” “fight,” and “win.”

-Bombastic major key arrangements are also a must. They may be called “fight songs,” but they’re much more about celebration than they are about intimidation.

-Whenever possible, use a pun based on the team name, like in “Bear Down, Chicago Bears.”

-Choose your words wisely, and make sure they can’t be twisted around and parodied by rival fans. As great of a song as it is, “Meet the Mets” is just two quick letter changes away from “Beat the Mets.”

Good luck to you, musicians of the 21st Century. Here’s hoping that one day, your music will pour from the speakers of the nation’s great stadiums and arenas, inspiring great joy, pride and the desire to buy $5 hot dogs and $8 beers. Now that’s using your music for commerce’s sake.

- Erik Michael Adams

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