Web video has made recorded concert albums nearly obsolete.

When Peter Frampton stepped onto the stage of the Marin County Civic Center in June of 1975, he was a niche taste, a pink-haired, baby-faced guitarist writing mellow songs after his stint with the noisier Humble Pie. He'd released three solo albums, none of which could be called a commercial smash; most casual music fans had never heard of him.

But he toured ardently and frequently, and the executives at his record label, A&M, knew that audiences responded to Frampton more passionately than record buyers. So they recorded that show and a few others throughout the year and then, in January 1976, released Frampton Comes Alive!, a double album that would end up going platinum six times. In a matter of months, millions of people knew Frampton's songs; the record sold 16 million copies worldwide, and it took more than 30 years for someone (and not even a rock star, but Garth Brooks) to release a more popular live album. 

The live rock and roll album was once a prized way to break a little-known musical act into the spotlight; it worked for Cheap Trick and Talking Heads, too. These days, though, live albums are never breakthroughs, and almost always released by already established bands. Last week, Coldplay announced that it won't even bother to sell its new live album, LeftRightLeftRightLeft. Instead, it will be offered as a free download on the weepy British rock band's Web site.

So who killed the live album as a cultural, musical, and commercial tour de force? One of the primary culprits has to be Web video. Once upon a time, even Grateful Dead fans had to sneak their recording devices into the Hartford Civic Center. Today, all it takes is an iPhone, Flip video camera, or even the cheapest of cell phones to record a show and, with a few clicks, send it to friends, upload it to YouTube, and share it with the entire world.

We are all bootleggers now.

Not convinced? Then go to YouTube and type in the name of a concert you've recently seen. If you've not been to a show recently—preferably one with lots of people under the age of, say, 35—try typing in "Yeah Yeah Yeahs at Coachella" and see what turns up: 262 clips from the rock band's afternoon show at the hip music festival held in the California desert last month. True, the audio isn't soundboard quality. But some clips aren't so bad-and many certainly compare favorably with the cassettes Deadheads used to barter for with tie-dyes, mushrooms, and other miracles.