Farhad Manjoo

How “Guitar Hero” saved guitar music

Contrary to some purists' claims, the popular video game is inspiring kids to rock out for real.

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How

Salon composite / Photo: skalas2

Early in July, Rusty Shaffer, the founder of Optek, a small music company in Reno, Nev., visited Salon’s offices to show me his invention, the Fretlight guitar. Though it looks and feels like a standard, rock ‘n’ roll-ready instrument, the Fretlight contains a set of LEDs invisibly embedded inside its fretboard — connect the guitar to a computer and the lights spark up to indicate where to put your fingers in order to play a chord. Shaffer is certain that his guitar is a great leap forward for the normally tech-averse guitar industry; the Fretlight, he says, will transform guitar music, renewing young people’s interest in the guitar, and teaching them to play with ease.

It’s true that the guitar, like all musical instruments, faces a tough time finding new recruits. Industry figures indicate that the guitar is far less popular today than it was in the 1960s, which is no surprise. Kids today have so many other fun things to do — the Wii, the Web, television — it might never occur to them to pick up an ax. Schools are scrimping on music education. And then there’s the music; you don’t need a guitar to play much of the stuff now on the radio, a lot of which sounds closer to what comes out of a Mac than what comes out an amp.

But Fretlight is not likely to get kids flocking to the guitar. While Shaffer’s invention is promising, it is not yet a painless way to learn to rock out. There is, meanwhile, another technology launching rock stars across the land, one that most guitar players don’t even consider part of their world. I’m talking about “Guitar Hero,” the ridiculously popular video game in which players use a plastic guitar-shaped controller to simulate rocking out.

Shaffer and others in the music business are dubious of the video game’s effect on young people’s musical abilities. In the past few weeks, though, I’ve interviewed several guitar teachers about the game, and some speak of it as the most revolutionary thing to hit the world of guitar since Jack White learned his first scale. “Guitar Hero” is introducing millions of young people to the possibility of playing the instrument, and it’s also teaching them important skills they’ll need to play. And not only that: “Guitar Hero,” perhaps more than any other piece of modern entertainment, is juicing kids’ interest in guitar-heavy music. What could be better for the guitar, after all, than hordes of young people learning to love “Smoke on the Water”?

Though “Guitar Hero” is meant to entertain and the Fretlight is meant to teach, they rest upon a shared insight — when you pick up a guitar for the first time, you can’t play a thing. A decade ago, back when I was still in thrall to Billy Corgan, I scrounged up $200 and bought a cheapo electric from my college town’s guitar hotspot. I think I managed three lessons before I gave it up; the gulf between what I could do and what I wanted to do looked depressingly unbridgeable in any reasonable length of time.

Shaffer invented the Fretlight to ease that feeling. He learned guitar the old-fashioned way, from a book, constantly having to look back and forth between the fretboard and the text to adjust his fingering. When he finished college with a degree in mechanical engineering, he tried to improve his skills — but the book, he found, was getting him nowhere fast.

Shaffer built his first Fretlight prototype in the early 1990s, but it was only later in the decade, after computers had invaded ordinary life, that the Fretlight could go mainstream. The latest models (which start at $399 for acoustics and $499 for electrics) are driven by software; they’ll work with PCs or Macs, but a lot of the programs are PC only.

Much of the software is best suited for intermediate guitar players; the most useful is a program called M-Player, which plays digital versions of popular songs through the computer as it lights up the fingering positions on the guitar. You can slow down the song’s tempo, letting you play, say, Mark Knopfler’s astounding “Sultans of Swing” solo at about one-third the speed of the original. Shaffer says even advanced guitarists — even famous, aging ones, such as Journey’s Neal Schon and America’s Gerry Beckley — use the Fretlight to practice.

But the Fretlight is no miracle for the novice, know-nothing wannabe guitar hero like myself. I’ve been practicing on an acoustic Fretlight for about a month, and though it’s probably easier than an ordinary guitar, I found learning from the guitar’s text-based online teaching software very similar to the slow process of learning from a book.

The Fretlight is set to go on sale at Best Buy stores next year, and by that time the company will have replaced the textual tutorial with instructional videos; the frets will light up as the teacher tells you what to do. This would be an improvement, I’m sure.

But even videos would not address the worst part of learning to play an instrument: Practicing is dull. The Fretlight highlights where you’re supposed to put your fingers, but unlike the “Guitar Hero” controller, it sends no feedback to the computer. As I played the Fretlight, I kept wishing that my computer could react, in some way, to what I was doing. I wanted it to tell me if was I holding down the correct strings, or if I was strumming in time, or if my guitar was correctly tuned. I kept wishing, that is, that I could turn my practice into some kind of interactive game, or that my PC could somehow pretty up the awful, tentative sounds I was producing with my instrument. I kept wishing for “Guitar Hero.”

The magic of the video game is that it lets a novice sound like a pro. On “Guitar Hero,” playing well is easy. Even if you suck and stick to Easy mode, you can ape a solo worthy of Jimmy Page. It “makes you feel like you’re a guitar player without having to practice for years and years,” says Ted Lange, an associate producer and in-house guitar expert at Red Octane, the company that makes “Guitar Hero.”

The game’s guitar has no strings; its fretboard features five colored buttons that you press with your left hand as you hit a plastic strumming bar with your right. You do this in time according to what’s on the screen, winning points — and playing a cool song — for hitting the right notes at the right time, and losing points, and making bad music, when you mess up.

I discussed “Guitar Hero” with a half-dozen guitar teachers across the nation; all said they’d never played the game, but many had heard of it from their students. “Personally I’ve made hundreds or maybe even a couple thousand dollars on it, just because kids see the game and they want to go do the real thing,” says Rob Caviness, who teaches at Backbeat Music, a studio he co-founded just outside of Denver. “I think a lot of kids listen to music and they don’t know what it is — the game lets you pick out one particular instrument and it says, ‘Hey, this is what you can do with it.’”

Red Octane’s Lange argues that “Guitar Hero” instills two important guitar-playing fundamentals: sensitivity to rhythm as well as mastery over “independent hand usage — the fact that you have to do something different with each hand.” There is perhaps no better proof of this effect than an 8-year-old boy in Denver named Ben Eberle, who is one of Caviness’ guitar students, as well as one of the most well-known — and undeniably amazing — “Guitar Hero” players in the world.

Ben, who is in the fourth grade, is a YouTube kid. He’s been playing “Guitar Hero” for a year and a half, and earlier this year, his dad, Lance, began posting videos of Ben’s “Guitar Hero” sessions on the site. His nearly supernatural skills — watch him hit every note of the My Chemical Romance song “Dead” while he’s got his back to the TV — have won him millions of viewers.

Ben says that he’d never thought about playing guitar before he picked up the video game. Now, he’s deep into playing a real electric; he’s taken five lessons so far, and he practices at least a half-hour every day after school. I asked Ben whether he thought “Guitar Hero” had made guitar easier for him. The game, he said, taught him how to “stretch out my fingers” to play the guitar. Caviness, his teacher, says the effect is much greater.

“He has a much better understanding of rhythm and his finger agility is more advanced than most other kids his level,” Caviness says of Ben. Caviness has been teaching Ben the Black Sabbath song “Iron Man,” a “Guitar Hero” standard, and “I think he’s learning it two or three times faster than the pace of other kids. He can hear something and just nail rhythms for it.”

Ben Eberle could, of course, be an exception; his skill at both the video game and a real instrument might well derive from natural music ability. Eberle’s parents, too, have contributed to his success by making sure he doesn’t slack in his practice.

Shaffer, the Fretlight inventor, argues that for most kids, “Guitar Hero” is something like a trick; when kids realize that they can’t reproduce “Guitar Hero’s” solos on a real guitar, they’ll decide to stick with the video-game illusion of greatness rather than spend years becoming a real guitar god. Caviness notes that some of his video-game fans who’ve come to the class have dropped out. “They expect to jump into it and learn it as quickly as they learned the game, and they realize they can’t,” he says.

But Ben Eberle’s example shows how the game can also ease every novice’s painful sense of incompetence. When Ben gets bored with guitar because he can’t play it was well as the video game, he switches back to the video game for a much-needed simulation of greatness. “Guitar Hero,” that is, reminds him of his goal — and lets him savor the feeling of being able to attain it.

There’s something else the game has given Ben, too: a love of guitar rock. Before he played the game, Ben, like most kids his age, wasn’t much into music. “One of the coolest things about it is that kids start jamming out to old classic rock like Boston, stuff that you would never hear them listen to otherwise,” Lange says. (Lange is in charge of picking the game’s music.) When new versions of “Guitar Hero” are released, the classic songs that are on the game often see a spike in iTunes sales, he notes.

Caviness says that within a couple months, he’ll start teaching Ben “Free Bird.”

The thinking man’s action hero

Using paper clips, chewing gum, chocolate and down-home ingenuity, MacGyver always saved the day. Let's bring him back -- and give him a girl!

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The thinking man's action hero

It isn’t necessary to explain how, in the pilot episode of “MacGyver,” our mulleted, Midwestern hero gets himself trapped inside a top-secret research bunker overflowing with sulfuric acid. Suffice it to say, he needs to find a way out, and probably soon (because government agents are fixing to fire a missile at the bunker to prevent the acid from spilling into a nearby aquifer). Plus, he has to save the people he has found inside (among them a gun-wielding climate scientist who wants destroy the bunker in an effort to set back research into an ozone-layer-ruining weapon of mass destruction). Fortunately, MacGyver has a few chocolate bars, a scrap of sodium metal, a cold capsule, a pair of binoculars and cigarettes.

He uses the chocolate to plug up the leaking tank of acid — sulfuric acid reacts with sugar to form a kind of glue. The sodium, scraped into the shell of the cold capsule and splashed into a sealed bottle of water, makes for a handy time-delay bomb, which proves useful for blowing through a wall that blocks the group’s escape. The smoke from the cigarettes illuminates the bunker’s laser-beam security system that he has to get through to move through the bunker (no secret underground research lab is complete without lasers); MacGyver uses the binocular lens to aim the laser at its own control unit, shutting down the security system.

But how does he get out of the bunker? Oh, that’s the easy part: MacGyver finds a switch that controls the lights in an above-ground control tower. He flashes the lights on and off to send an SOS message in Morse code. The guys in the tower, realizing Mac’s in the bunker, alive, call off the missile — and for the first of 139 times during the show’s seven-year run from 1985 to 1992, MacGyver saves the day.

This first episode is nearly perfect. It neatly telegraphs MacGyver’s soul: A laid-back fellow oozing can-do heartland ingenuity, MacGyver is handsome but dorky, charming but self-effacing, a friend to orphans and children with disabilities, tolerant of people from foreign lands, and though he has every opportunity for indiscretion, he’s always a gentleman around women. MacGyver, played by the affable Richard Dean Anderson, works as a secret agent for a vaguely defined defense contractor whose intentions are always of the best sort. His gigs are of the usual action-hero variety — find stolen missiles, escape assassins, rescue civilians, humiliate dictators. But his near chastity, along with his staunch opposition to guns and capacity to solve every problem through the judicious application of chemistry and physics, sets him apart from other action stars. MacGyver is the thinking man’s hero.

Though, actually, when you go back to watch his adventures two decades after they first aired, you discover Mac’s target audience probably consisted mainly of boys, not men. I started watching the 139-episode DVD boxed set a few weeks ago, shortly after gadget blogs gleefully reported that Lee David Zlotoff, the series’ creator, said he was thinking of making a “MacGyver” movie. This jogged in me memories of boyhood, especially of how, after watching each MacGyver trick, I’d feel a bit invincible: I was small, but I was clever. Like MacGyver, I could take them.

But to adult eyes “MacGyver” is often too goofy by half. It’s not just that his tricks are improbable. At times — like when he interprets a deaf friend’s dreams to find clues to an impending missile theft — they seem to violate the show’s premise, that science beats brawn. In these instances, MacGyver doesn’t use science; he uses magic.

Then there are the children he befriends and the liberal orthodoxies he defends — tendencies that bump the show’s preachiness dial. Mac’s always popping up in foreign countries — Afghanistan, Myanmar — and running into kids and peasants who are oppressed by unsmiling overlords. In just about every second episode, he’s teaching kids about the dangers of guns, a position that, we learn in one episode, he came to as a boy, when a friend of his was killed by a gun. The antigun thing is a little specious, though: MacGyver’s got nothing but nothing but love for explosives, painful booby traps, fire extinguishers rigged up as projectiles, and enormous boulders that he sets up to fall on villains. The real reason he doesn’t use guns is obvious — he’d be able to shoot his way out of most traps, and that would be too easy.

I don’t mean to get down on “MacGyver.” There’s something in its flaws worthy of re-viewing, a particular moment in America preserved on TV. MacGyver is meant to exemplify a certain noble strain of American power. He doesn’t take the easy way out, and when in a jam, he uses what he finds around him to ingenious effect. If you strain you see a greater American story here too — that his ingenuity is frequently too good to be true, and leads to pat, uncomplicated endings that call for no greater reflection.

There’s also something striking about “MacGyver’s” moment in TV. Watch this show as a yardstick to measure how far we’ve come. Even the simplest dramas today — I’m looking at you, “CSI” — are complex and multilayered next to “MacGyver,” which underlines and explains everything, gums up all dialogue with exposition and introduces new, throwaway characters in each episode. There’s much hand-holding here: Even in foreign countries, everyone speaks English, every villain is one-dimensionally evil, and every tender moment is helped along by a swelling score.

But that’s why I hope someone makes a “MacGyver” movie. Mac needs a makeover. Lift him up to big-budget action standards — give him a story line that can span a couple of hours; give him a girl to love, but who may also cross him; give him a more complex mission (maybe to find out who’s putting all the salmonella in our salads?); and give the whole package fast, Paul Greengrass-style editing. Also, make sure one of his crazy solutions involves Mentos — people online go crazy for tricks with Mentos. Do all that and we might yet have a lasting American hero.

* * * * *

Read more of Salon’s Re-Viewed, offering a fresh look at great TV shows available on DVD.

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Goodbye to Machinist

Yo, I'm out.

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Goodbye to Machinist

Today much of the tech world is sad that the iPhone 3G’s launch is going so miserably. But I’m sad that it’s my last day at Salon.

I’ve accepted a job at Slate, where, starting next week, I’ll be writing a twice-weekly technology column. Machinist will go on a break for a week, after which a guest blogger will bring you the latest tech dish.

I joined Salon in 2002, and since then I’ve written about, among other things, Smart Cars, robotic vacuum cleaners, muffin toasters, voting machines, architecture and 9/11, Tower Seven, Bill Clinton, Terri Schiavo, Florida’s elections, “The Wisdom of Crowds,” Malcolm Gladwell, Linux, Daniel Levitin, the copyright industries, Lawrence Lessig, The New York Times, Martha Stewart, a mnemonic to remember the Solar System’s planets, Google, garlic, stem cells, Comcast, Apple, Speedo, taxes, Social Security, Antonin Scalia, Barack Obama, the robots’ plan to take over the Earth, Howard Stern, Stringer Bell, Current TV, campaign finance reform, MoveOn, Howard Dean, Nintendo, Total Information Awareness, Java, Alice Waters, “The West Wing,” Robert F. Kennedy, Jr., the Washington Post, Judy Miller, and Hurricane Katrina.

I’m pretty sure there’s no other news outlet on the planet which would have given me such latitude, and I thank everyone here at Salon for that. I also want to thank all the readers who’ve read my work, not to mention praised me, hounded me, kept me up late at night swearing at the screen. Don’t ever change.

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“True Enough” at Google, and in San Francisco

A YouTubey presentation of my book.

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As I mentioned in the comments yesterday, I’m getting ready to depart this space; I’ll have a fuller explanation tomorrow, sometime before or after I get in line to buy the new iPhone.

In the meantime, I thought I’d add a note about one of the more fun events related to my book’s release — the opportunity I had, in May, to speak at Google’s headquarters in Mountain View.

It was thrilling not only for the splendor of the place — even their commodes are computerized — and the welcoming attitude of my hosts at the Authors@ program (the company buys your books and hands them out to employees for free), but also because Googlers seemed to intuitively grasp my argument and posed many penetrating questions.

Google records these things and posts them up on YouTube, so if you’re looking for something to watch while eating a sandwich at your desk, have at it:

Another thing on the book: I’ll be reading and signing at Book Passage in the San Francisco Ferry Building next week — 6 p.m. on Thursday, July 17.

If you’d like to talk about facts, rumors, conspiracy theories, and spin in the digital age, do stop by.

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The iPhone 3G reviews are in: It’s pretty good

But battery life suffers, and the GPS isn't as great as you hoped.

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Walt Mossberg (WSJ), David Pogue (NYT) and Edward Baig (USA Today) have been using the new iPhone 3G for a couple of weeks now, and today they all dish on their experiences.

They were all fans of the first model, and they’re pretty happy about the new model’s new features. The reviewers say the phone’s 3G network access leads to a much zippier Internet experience, that its audio quality has been dramatically improved, and that it cozies up to Microsoft’s corporate e-mail system.

But there are some drawbacks, too: Mossberg finds the battery life lacking, and Pogue says that that the phone’s GPS antenna is too puny to be of much use.

Here’s Mossberg on the battery life:

More important, in daily use, I found the battery indicator on the new 3G model slipping below 20 percent by early afternoon or midafternoon on some days, and it entirely ran out of juice on one day. I overcame this problem by learning to use Wi-Fi instead of 3G whenever possible, turning down the screen brightness and even turning off 3G altogether, which the phone permits.

The iPhone 3G’s battery life is comparable to, or better than, that of some other 3G competitors. But they have replaceable batteries. The iPhone doesn’t.

And Pogue on GPS:

Unfortunately, there’s not much you can do with the G.P.S. According to Apple, the iPhone’s G.P.S. antenna is much too small to emulate the turn-by-turn navigation of a G.P.S. unit for a vehicle, for example.

Instead, all it can do at this point is track your position as you drive along, representing you as a blue dot sliding along the roads of the map. Even then, the metal of a car or the buildings of Manhattan are often enough to block the iPhone’s view of the sky, leaving it just as confused as you are.

None of the reviewers were provided with applications that third-party developers are creating for the iPhone (these will go on sale at Apple’s online App Store). Mossberg, though, writes that he tried out some of these apps on an older phone, and was pleased with the results:

I tested a game that used the phone’s motion sensors to control the action, and I tested several programs from America Online (TWX), including AOL Instant Messenger; AOL Radio, which streams music from the Internet; and AOL’s Truveo video search engine. All worked very well.

These apps will also work on old iPhones as well as on the iPod Touch.

The iPhone 3G goes on sale Friday at 8 a.m. But some enterprising folks have gotten a hold of them already — check out the Boy Genius Report blog’s unboxing photos.

I talked about how to get an iPhone in my video for Current TV this week:

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Scary! YouTube ordered to hand your viewing history to Viacom

But there's a silver lining to one of the most bone-headed legal decisions in recent times.

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Update: This post has been updated with comments from Viacom.

In the fall of 1987, a freelance reporter named Michael Dolan learned that judge Robert Bork kept an account at Potomac Video, a D.C. rental shop. This was at the height of the contentious and ultimately failed Senate confirmation hearings for Bork’s nomination to the Supreme Court — so naturally, Dolan thought there was a story here, and he went to work on getting a peek at Bork’s video rental history.

It wasn’t hard work. Dolan popped into Potomac Video one afternoon and asked if he could look at Bork’s movie file. “There sure are a lot of them,” the assistant manager replied. “Is it OK if I make a Xerox copy?”

That was OK with Dolan; weeks later, he published Bork’s rental history in the D.C. alt-weekly the Washington City Paper.

Bork’s taste in movies was itself unremarkable (“First off, despite what all you pervs were hoping, there’s not an X in the bunch, and hardly an R,” Dolan wrote). But the publication sparked outrage from groups on the right and the left — including the ACLU and People for the American Way, which had vehemently opposed Bork’s nomination.

In 1988, Congress, spurred by the fear that the press might now easily unearth all politicians’ movie habits, passed the Video Privacy Protection Act, which remains one of the strongest privacy laws in the nation. The law prohibits stores from disclosing video histories unless ordered to do so by a court — and even then, customers must be given “the opportunity to appear and contest the claim” of any party seeking to learn what you watched.

I tell you all this as a historical wind-up to yesterday’s shocking news: In the ongoing copyright battle between Viacom and Google, a judge ordered Google’s subsidiary YouTube to hand over an enormous trove of data identifying who watched what and when on the video-sharing site.

Viacom’s lawyers argued that they needed this data to prove that “infringing” videos — e.g., clips of “The Daily Show” and “The Colbert Report” — were more popular than non-infringing user-generated videos. Presumably, if it proves this, Viacom might prevail in its argument that YouTube’s bread-and-butter was illegal videos, and thus owes some of its success — and billions of dollars — to media companies.

The database in question is astonishingly broad: Viacom asked for 12 terabytes of logs (approximately 12,000 GB) that detail each instance in which someone pressed Play on a YouTube video, plus the YouTube username of the viewer who watched it, the date and time at which the user pressed Play, and the IP address of the viewer’s computer. The database covers videos seen both on YouTube as well as those embedded on other pages: If you’ve never visited YouTube but have clicked on a YouTube video from your daily newspaper’s Web site, you’re in the database.

Google objected to Viacom’s request on the grounds that producing the database would be expensive, time-consuming, and would invade YouTube users’ privacy. The judge — Louis Stanton of the Southern District of New York — Judge Stanton dismissed all Google’s arguments. The company’s “privacy concerns are speculative,” he wrote. (PDF here.)

Such pat reasoning should give you a general sense of the depth of bone-headedness in Stanton’s ruling. As Kurt Opsahl of the Electronic Frontier Foundation points out, the Robert Bork-inspired Video Privacy Protection Act applies not just to video cassettes but to “audio visual material” in general. Clearly it should apply here, and clearly, millions of YouTube users ought to have been given a chance to fight this invasion of our privacy.

But the real villain here isn’t Judge Stanton — it’s Viacom. I’ve previously raked the company over the coals for suing, rather than enjoying the fruits of, YouTube’s success (for instance last year, when it sacrificed potentially millions in ad dollars by pulling down the popular MTV clip of Britney Spears’ poor performance at the Video Music Awards).

But now Viacom’s sinking lower: Not content to fight just Google, the company looks to be manning the deck against us all. Sure, Judge Stanton might call this “speculative,” but think on it a bit: If Viacom’s willing to take on Google, what qualms will it have in suing you or me, recording industry-style, now that it knows what we did on YouTube? (Update: Viacom says it can’t use this data to sue you.)

All’s not lost. Google might manage to reverse this decision on appeal, and Viacom, gauging the outrage, could decide to withdraw or limit its request.

But our real hope here is legislative or regulatory action. Indeed, optimistic sorts might see a silver lining here.

As privacy scholar Jeffrey Rosen has written, “The politics of privacy tends to be largely reactive, fired by heartstring-tugging anecdotes that capture the public imagination.” Just as the airing of Robert Bork’s video history was the kick-start Congress needed to fix a clear privacy hole born out of then-new technology, this ruling might backfire on copyright holders, pushing lawmakers, finally, to curb the privacy-invading reach of copyright fights.

What we watch on YouTube is every bit as personal as what one rents from a store like Potomac Video. Indeed, it might be more private, and more salacious — imagine the fun you’d have if you were looking for unsavory data about a future Supreme Court nominee in 12 terabytes of YouTube logs!

In his floor speech in favor of the Video Privacy Protection Act, Vermont Sen. Pat Leahy argued that new database technologies capable of tracking private behavior called for new privacy regulations. That was two decades ago — and it remains true, still.

——

Update: A representative for Viacom e-mailed me to say that I’m overreacting. “We have no ability (and absolutely no desire) to use this data to sue end-users,” he argued, pointing out that all discovery documents in the case are bound by this confidentiality agreement.

Under this agreement, no one at Viacom will get to see these YouTube logs — only Viacom’s outside lawyers and experts, as well as court personnel, will have access to the data. The agreement also restricts the data to this case alone, which would seem to prevent the company from using the logs to sue users individually.

Michael Fricklas, Viacom’s counsel, told the New York Times, “I can unequivocally state that we will not use any of this information to enforce rights against end users.” He added that the company is looking into ways to “anonymize” the logs “to enhance the security of information that will be produced.”

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