In theory, I should be rooting for the record companies in their battle to squash Napster, the Web site via which music fans snatch copyrighted recordings. I'm a writer, and writers, like musicians, create intellectual property. In a world where people weren't compensated for this property, I would have to do something useful for a living, which would call for a laborious retraining program. Yet, as I try to envision a world without copyright, I must admit to finding it in some ways attractive.

The standard argument against Napster is that without copyright protection, artists couldn't afford to devote their time to the creation of masterpieces. Especially concerned about this erosion of creativity are members of the band Metallica, who sued Napster. Such concerns inspired me to perform what I call the "Metallicaless World Thought Experiment." This thought experiment involves the following Metallica lyrics:

You know our fans are insane
We are gonna blow this place away
with volume higher
Than anything today the only way
When we start to rock
We never want to stop again

Hit the lights
Hit the lights
Hit the lights

With all our screaming
We are gonna rip right through your brain
We got the lethal power
It is causing you sweet pain Oh sweet pain
When we start to rock
We never want to stop again

Hit the lights [etc.]

OK, here comes the thought experiment. Close your eyes. Imagine a world in which the members of Metallica could not make a living through their art—a world in which this song ("Hit the Lights") did not exist, and indeed, the entire album from which it comes (Kill 'Em All) did not exist. Now try to imagine humankind surviving and even prospering in such a world. Seems possible, right?

You may think I'm just a middle-aged guy who can't relate to the hard-edged lyrics of the younger generation. Wrong! After I did the "Streisandless World Thought Experiment," I was on cloud nine.

It isn't as if music would cease to be recorded in a world without copyright. A band could give away its songs for free on the Web and still eke out a living by playing concert halls or even small clubs. But, you ask, what kind of people would then be attracted to careers in music? People who love to play music, that's who—including no small number of true artists. In a copyrightless world, the Jimi Hendrixes and Eric Claptons would still be jamming.

In fact, in a copyrightless world, Hendrix himself might still be alive. If rock stars weren't smothered in cash, they wouldn't have all the leisure time that they use to overindulge in drink, drugs, groupies, and (in some cases) existential angst. If not for copyright protection, Kurt Cobain might still be alive, and Courtney Love might never have entered the world's consciousness. A twofer!

Bear in mind that in the current, winner-take-all pop music market, who gets famous and who doesn't has little to do with the quality of the music. Why did the band Counting Crows skyrocket to fame? Because the band's members knew someone who knew Lorne Michaels, producer of Saturday Night Live. They did the show, and the rest is history. Meanwhile, the 7 billion or so bands roughly as good as Counting Crows—and willing to work for cheap—labor in obscurity.

If you doubt me, go to garageband.com, the home of the unknown musician, and listen to a few of the top-rated songs. You'll soon find a band that's about as good as the currently famous bands in its genre. All it lacks is a Lorne Michaels connection.

The paradigm I'm touting—that in the digital era, information creators can just give away their data and thus stoke demand for less easily replicable services, such as live performances—has long been touted by John Perry Barlow and Esther Dyson. Barlow, its originator, saw this model in action back when he wrote lyrics for the Grateful Dead, whose fans taped concerts, passed the tapes around, and thus drew more people to the concerts.