In the vast, sprawling landscape of the internet, a new generation of music historians and educators has emerged. They don’t lecture in dusty university halls; their pulpits are YouTube channels, their congregations millions strong. Two of the most prominent figures in this digital renaissance are Adam Reader, the effusive storyteller known as Professor of Rock, and Rick Beato, the seasoned producer and music theory guru. Together, they are leading a cultural movement, reigniting passion for classic music and dissecting its magic for a global audience. Yet, these champions of song find themselves in a precarious position, caught in the crosshairs of the very industry they celebrate, due to the complex and often contentious doctrine of “Fair Use.”
Professor of Rock, with over a million subscribers, is less a professor and more of a rock and roll evangelist. Adam Reader’s format is built on infectious enthusiasm and compelling narrative. He sits down, often with the artists themselves—from members of Journey to the icons of folk rock—and unspools the human stories behind the anthems that defined generations. He doesn’t just play a clip of a song; he uses it as a jumping-off point to discuss the heartbreak, the happy accident, or the sheer grit that led to its creation. His audience is a potent mix: baby boomers reliving their youth and a surprising number of younger listeners who, through his videos, hear Styx or The Eagles for the first time, not as “dad rock,” but as vital, exciting art. He is a bridge between eras, a curator of rock’s oral history.
Then there is Rick Beato, a musical polymath whose influence is staggering. A former college professor and a successful producer in his own right, Beato brings a different kind of authority to his channel of over three million subscribers. His flagship series, “What Makes This Song Great?,” is a masterclass in musical deconstruction. With the precision of a surgeon, Beato isolates guitar tones, breaks down complex harmonies, and reveals the subtle genius hidden within the tracks of artists from Tom Petty to Peter Gabriel. His audience includes professional musicians, aspiring producers, and countless fans who simply want to understand why their favorite songs make them feel the way they do. Beato isn’t just fostering appreciation; he’s elevating musical literacy on a mass scale.
The problem arises when these creators use short excerpts of copyrighted music to illustrate their points. Under U.S. copyright law, “Fair Use” is supposed to protect such transformative works. The law weighs four key factors, and a look at them shows just how strongly the case can be made for these YouTubers.
First, the purpose and character of their use is overwhelmingly educational and critical. They are not simply re-uploading a song; they are creating an entirely new work of analysis and commentary around it. Second, the nature of the copyrighted work is typically a publicly released, famous piece of music. Third, the amount used is minimal—just a few seconds of a riff or a chorus, enough to make a specific analytical point.
The fourth factor, the effect upon the potential market, is where the industry’s argument crumbles. Record labels and publishers, often through automated Content ID systems, flag these videos, claiming they harm the market for the original song. But the opposite is demonstrably true. When Beato dedicates an hour to dissecting a Boston song, streams of that song spike. When Professor of Rock tells the poignant backstory of a forgotten power ballad, a new generation discovers it on Spotify. These creators are arguably the most effective free marketing and promotional engine the music industry has today. They are driving traffic, generating sales, and ensuring that classic catalogs remain relevant and profitable.
To pursue copyright claims against them is a profound miscalculation. It’s akin to a book publisher suing a popular book club for reading passages aloud. It’s a short-sighted strategy that prioritizes minuscule, perceived licensing infringements over massive, tangible gains in cultural currency and audience engagement. This aggressive stance creates a “chilling effect,” discouraging other talented educators from sharing their knowledge for fear of having their channels demonetized or deleted.
The record companies should see Professor of Rock, Rick Beato, and their peers not as adversaries, but as invaluable allies. They are cultivating a more intelligent, more engaged, and more passionate consumer base. They are doing the vital work of passing the torch, ensuring that the music of the 20th century finds a fervent audience in the 21st. By silencing these voices, the industry doesn’t just protect its copyright; it risks severing a vital connection to the fans of tomorrow and silencing the most passionate storytellers it could ever hope to have.
