The Music Industry is Broken

The music industry is in an interesting place right now because on one hand, it's more accessible than it's ever been. It's more democratic than it's

been. It's more democratic than it's ever been. And if recent trends

ever been. And if recent trends continue, it will soon be more profitable than it's ever been. But

also, uh, doesn't it kind of feel like it's completely falling apart?

Last week, six of the top 50 trending songs on Spotify were AI generated.

If I was my daughter's age, if I'm looking at what musicians are doing now, I wouldn't want to do this. If you have a business model and that goes up 10 15%, you're in a lot of trouble. Well,

it's double.

But there is a refusal to offer even a semblance of a sustainable revenue source.

I'm owed $30,000 in music royalties that I will probably never see.

A lot of bands that you love, they're going to call it quits in the next like 2 years.

The industry as a whole is raking in more and more money every year. But as

with so many things in life, the majority of that is concentrated at the top. Record labels, tech executives, and

top. Record labels, tech executives, and monopolistic middlemen make billions while the bottom 80% of artists are forced into a death match with each other. As their costs go up and their

other. As their costs go up and their revenue goes down, many smaller acts are starting to get priced out of the industry altogether. I want to talk

industry altogether. I want to talk about all the things that are causing this. But let's start with Spotify since

this. But let's start with Spotify since nobody has been more influential to the current state of music than the company that fundamentally changed the way we listen to it. My main source for a lot of the information in this video is this book by Liz Pood Machine. And I would

say my biggest takeaway is that Spotify has never at any point cared about artists. In fact, they've routinely done

artists. In fact, they've routinely done just about everything they can to both undermine and replace them. I think it's important to point out that the company wasn't even founded with the intention of being a music streaming service. The

plan from the beginning was just to make a website that could sell ads. The

content used to drive traffic to those ads was almost completely irrelevant.

Should it be product search or should it be movies or audio books? And then we ended up with music. The only reason they eventually decided on music was because they felt like there was a market for it. I'm pretty sure if they

thought they'd sell more ads on pictures of feet, then that's what they would have done. And maybe I'd still be

have done. And maybe I'd still be subscribed. And I don't bring this

subscribed. And I don't bring this detail up because this is my first day on Earth and I'm just now learning that businesses like to make money. I know

that's usually the case. I just like to point this out because it annoys me how much Spotify's founders have tried to retroactively apply this nobility to their cause.

I did this not because I thought we could make a ton of money. I did this because I cared about the problem, right? I cared about music and I cared

right? I cared about music and I cared about compensating artists uh fairly.

Problem was to distribute music, not to give you money.

Guys, we were never trying to profit. We

just wanted to save the music industry.

And I swear we're going to start saving it any day now. Now, to be fair, it's easy to overly romanticize the time before music streaming apps, as if back then everything was working perfectly and artists were just raking in revenue

left and right. 20 years ago, the industry was struggling. Piracy had

become a huge problem. Once people

realized they could download a band's entire discoraphy for free, why would they keep spending 99 cents just to buy one song? And unless the plan was to

one song? And unless the plan was to arrest millions of teenagers for using Bit Torrent, the most realistic way to counteract this was to create something just slightly more convenient in comparison so that people would see the

value in paying for it. The problem for Spotify was that even while that income grew exponentially throughout the early 2010s, they just weren't able to keep enough of it for themselves. Sure, the

only reason people used the app at all is to listen to the music that artists put on it, but that doesn't mean they should get most of the money. I won't

rest until the guy who said, "What if we put Napster on phone is worth $10 billion?"

billion?" Oh, cool. I guess I can rest now. Now,

Oh, cool. I guess I can rest now. Now,

the way monetization works on Spotify is that about 70% of the revenue that's made from subscriptions and advertisements are paid out to music rights holders while Spotify pays their expenses with the remaining 30%. Now, I

want you to remember those two numbers because I'm going to refer back to them a lot in this video and I'm going to show you how that graph has slowly been morphing in the opposite direction. But

let's start with the 70%. It's a common misconception that artists on Spotify are paid per stream when technically that's not true. People often throw around a figure of like.3 cents, but that's just an estimate and it changes

all the time. In reality, there's a fixed pool of revenue that gets distributed every month based on the total number of streams across the entire platform. So, if an artist were

entire platform. So, if an artist were to have 1% of all the streams, they would be owed 1% of all the revenue.

This means that while there's obviously a correlation between the amount of plays a song gets and the amount of royalties that artist receives, it's not as if a third of a penny gets deposited into their account every time you press

play. Spotify is a zero sum game. So

play. Spotify is a zero sum game. So

unfortunately, the more artists who succeed on it, the more the revenue pool gets spread thin. This is where I think they should be taking a much harsher stance than they currently are on AI generated music. I don't care how much

generated music. I don't care how much the technology is improving. AI slop is soulless. It's completely unnecessary.

soulless. It's completely unnecessary.

And more than anything else, it's that the only way it exists at all is because it was trained without consent on decades worth of stolen data. And yet,

it is rampant online. Hundreds of

thousands of songs are uploaded every single day and over 40% of those are estimated to be completely AI generated.

Now, I don't want to see AI content anywhere. I have no respect for the

anywhere. I have no respect for the people who use it and I cannot wait for all these companies to run out of money.

But at least when like an AI YouTube short blows up, that doesn't financially affect everyone else on the platform. On

Spotify though, it does because again, there's only a finite amount of money to go around. According to a website called

go around. According to a website called sloptracker.org, or just the top 10 songs from just 50 AI artists are responsible for millions of dollars being taken away from actual artists.

And this is a very small sample size.

Now, some people have tried to theorize that these songs could be a lowcost way for Spotify to attempt to recoup some of the royalties they owe. Because if there just so happened to be a song on the

platform that Spotify owned the rights to, then that percentage of Stream Share would get redirected right back into the company. And I'm not accusing them of

company. And I'm not accusing them of that, but at the very least, they're certainly not doing anything to stop it.

And even if they don't agree that AI art is inherently theft, the way that these artists have become so prominent is extremely suspicious. There's another

extremely suspicious. There's another website called Song Stats, which for pretty much every artist shows a graph of how their Spotify playlist reach has fluctuated over time. You probably

noticed that these tend to be all over the place. For real musicians trying to

the place. For real musicians trying to get their work listened to, it's a roller coaster. It is completely

roller coaster. It is completely unpredictable. And now let's take some

unpredictable. And now let's take some of the top AI artists and look at theirs.

Huh, that's an interesting shape. That

doesn't look like the other graphs.

This is Inley, who currently has about 800,000 monthly listeners. And look at some of the playlist she's been in.

Blues Mix Morning Glow. These are

official Spotify playlist. Here's one of the biggest ones I found. Breaking Rust,

whose music sounds like it was trained on 30 hours of Chevy truck commercials.

out on my jacket.

Just a few weeks after they released their very first song, they were already on playlist seen by 3 million people.

What about the Velvet Sundown, who a lot of people were debating about last summer, day one, the day they put their music out, they were already in these giant playlists. How is that possible,

giant playlists. How is that possible, right? How could anyone look at this and

right? How could anyone look at this and say that it happened naturally? Whether

or not Spotify is personally responsible for making these things, their immediate and completely inorganic rise to fame is suggestive of something that should be against their terms of service. I mean,

they remove the music of legitimate artists all the time, usually for much less nefarious statistical anomalies.

So, why is it that specifically with the Velvet Sundown, they turn the other way?

I don't know. I'm just asking questions.

Follow-up question. Can you guys watch this brand deal real quick? This video

is sponsored by Opera. If you're a serial tab opener like I am, then Opera is the perfect browser to help you clean up the mess before it gets out of hand.

You can easily group them all together in tab islands and even color code and name them to keep all your little detours separate. This is great for me

detours separate. This is great for me when I'm researching videos because I'm constantly falling down rabbit holes.

So, being able to organize it as I go helps it feel a lot less cluttered and overwhelming. They also have a feature

overwhelming. They also have a feature called tab traces, a visual indicator that underscores the ones you visited most recently. The darker it is, the

most recently. The darker it is, the more recent you clicked on. It's very

subtle, but it honestly makes a huge difference when you have a bunch of tabs and you're trying to remember the one you just looked at. An opera makes things even more streamlined for me since I know that there's certain things I can always access from the sidebar.

Messaging apps, social media websites, and even a built-in music player that syncs with all the biggest streaming services. My favorite thing about this

services. My favorite thing about this is that since it's integrated into the browser, it'll automatically pause your music when you start watching a video.

And speaking of videos, they even have a video pop out feature that lets you move whatever you're watching into the corner or to the side or even outside of the window altogether. And just like that,

window altogether. And just like that, you're now a professional multitasker like me. You can download Opera for

like me. You can download Opera for yourself by clicking the link in the description or in the pinned comment below. Thank you Opera for sponsoring

below. Thank you Opera for sponsoring this video. In the early 2010s, in an

this video. In the early 2010s, in an effort to increase engagement on their app, Spotify began a heavy push towards something they call leanback listening.

the idea that music isn't so much a piece of art to be intently listened to, but rather just like a constant hum that plays in the background of whatever you're doing. So, they began to curate

you're doing. So, they began to curate and promote playlists based on activities or vibes. Are you studying?

We have a playlist for that. Jonas

sleep. We have a playlist for that.

Breaking the news to your cousin that even though there's undeniable chemistry between you, the two of you can never be together simply because society deems it wrong.

Believe it or not, playlist, the popularization of playlists and the opportunities that emerged for all the artists that got picked to be in them actually changed the way a lot of music got made. Artists would start reverse

got made. Artists would start reverse engineering the writing process to appease the algorithm. Songs got

shorter, they got simpler, they would start with the most interesting part because as long as people got through the first 30 seconds, it would count as a play and then your stats would go up.

It's too risky to have a slow burn intro because you're just giving the listener more opportunities to skip it. And if

they skip it, it tells the algorithm that your song sucks and then they're never going to put in a playlist and no one's ever going to listen to it and you're never going to make any money and you're going to be working at Popeyes forever. But while artists were busy

forever. But while artists were busy trying to figure out how they could navigate the system, Spotify was hard at work pulling their own strings in the background. In 2017, the same question

background. In 2017, the same question started getting asked by more and more people. Who's making all these random

people. Who's making all these random ass songs? Why are they ending up in so

ass songs? Why are they ending up in so many playlists? artist with a stock

many playlists? artist with a stock photo as their profile picture, with no bio, no website, no contact information, nothing that would indicate they're a real person trying to become a working

musician. And yet, some of them have

musician. And yet, some of them have songs with tens of millions of plays because like a lot of the AI artists of today, they were snuck into official Spotify playlist. Again, no proof that

Spotify playlist. Again, no proof that Spotify is behind any of these. In fact,

I've even seen one example of them outright denying it. So, I'm just going to take their word for it.

But I will say they also denied similar allegations in 2017 and that turned out to be a flatout lie. No, we don't game the system. Bad people do and we're

the system. Bad people do and we're good. Turns out, no. Actually, several

good. Turns out, no. Actually, several

musicians have since revealed that they used to have a gig with Spotify where they would just record a bunch of like 2-minute long instrumentals that then Spotify would upload to their platform under random pseudonym. Just a bit of

investigation revealed hundreds of artist profiles accounting for millions of dollars in royalty payments that Spotify gets to keep because they're the ones who commissioned it. And it's not like people were going out of their way

to listen to these songs. Spotify has

the power to force them in front of as many ears as they want. Former Spotify

employees have talked about how strongly they were urged to prioritize these songs while curating playlists. Liz P in her book uncovered internal documents that showed they even had a name for

this perfect fit content. And by 2023, hundreds of these massively promoted playlists were filled almost exclusively with these kinds of songs. Even weirder,

though, the source of a large percentage of this music, a company called Firefly Entertainment, is owned by someone who has a lifelong personal relationship with one of the higher-ups over at Spotify, and he's made hundreds of millions of dollars in streaming revenue

the past couple years. That's one hell of a coincidence. Now, an important detail here, and what I hate to admit makes this kind of a smart move on their part, is that the playlist they did this on tend to serve as background noise.

So, not only are people less likely to notice if a song is not as high of quality, but by nature, these playlists are designed to be listened to for way longer than you would an actual song by

an actual artist. Let's say one of your favorite bands just released a new single and you love it. Over the course of a couple weeks, you listen to it like a hundred times. But also, every night to fall asleep, you put on a gentle ambient piano playlist and let it run for eight straight hours in the morning.

Well, unfortunately, that means that at the end of the month, about 99% of your subscription revenue has contributed to a bunch of anonymous, faceless stock music that you weren't even awake to hear, and the remaining 12 cents goes to

your favorite band for them to spend however they want. It's not like real musicians don't make this kind of music.

They used to get picked to be on these playlists. This used to be a huge source

playlists. This used to be a huge source of traffic and revenue for all of these small independent artists that Spotify pretends to care about, but now they've all been cast aside. They used their

music to popularize these playlists before slowly replacing them with songs that they own the rights to. In 2018,

they wrote a blog post about this instrumental guitarist named Lance Allen, whose life was changed when one of his songs got picked up by Spotify's peaceful guitar playlist. And within a couple of months, he had started earning enough revenue from streaming to pay his

mortgage and even buy a new car. He was

propped up by the company as an ultimate success story, a personification of this new era of self-sufficient musicians.

Now, they ran this blog for two reasons.

One, it makes them look good. It helps

them brand themselves as the artist empowerment company. Remember when we

empowerment company. Remember when we saved music? Remember when we did that?

saved music? Remember when we did that?

The other reason they posted this is because it's an advertisement. If it can happen to this guy, it can happen to you. You just need a little nudge to get

you. You just need a little nudge to get started and we can provide it for you.

It was around this time that Spotify started rolling out more promotional features specifically targeted at artists. Marquee ads, playlist pitching,

artists. Marquee ads, playlist pitching, this entire campaign kit that's often presented as more of a necessity than a luxury. They know that a lot of

luxury. They know that a lot of struggling artists are desperate for a break. And by using people like Lance to

break. And by using people like Lance to show that a better future might be possible, they're now able to monetize that desperation. They have made

that desperation. They have made millions of dollars off of independent artists by selling them on a dream. Just

a few years after this blog was posted, after using these kinds of stories to advertise their promotional tools, Spotify had all but abandoned people like Lance. In 2023, he took to Twitter

like Lance. In 2023, he took to Twitter to express how impossible it had become for him to compete with the stock music farms taking over the platform. And

today, when you look at the same playlist that once helped jumpstart his career, there doesn't seem to be a single real person on it. The final

evolution of Spotify flexing their muscles in the face of independent artists was a tool they released in 2020 called Discovery Mode. By opting your songs into it, you increase the likelihood of having them recommended

across the app. And in exchange, Spotify gets to keep 30% of your revenue. Pretty

quickly, a lot of people in the industry were comparing this to something called poliola, a common practice in the 1950s where labels would bribe DJs under the table to play their songs on the radio, gaming the system and making people think they were way more popular than

they actually were. Piola became the subject of a bunch of lawsuits, investigations, and even arrests before being outlawed in the 1960s. But like a lot of things that used to be illegal, just give it enough time and someone

will find a loophole to make it okay again. The argument that Spotify makes

again. The argument that Spotify makes to try and differentiate their program is that you don't have to pay any money upfront. you pay on the back end. So,

upfront. you pay on the back end. So,

it's different, but it works exactly the same way. The order of the transaction

same way. The order of the transaction doesn't really matter when they've gone on record to brag about how many artists they've gotten to sign up for it and how many hundreds of millions of dollars they've retained as a result.

But first, let's talk Piola. That's pay

for play.

You cannot buy your way onto a playlist.

If anyone offers you pay for play to get on a Spotify playlist, it's a scam.

Yeah, you can't give money to some website to end up in a playlist. That's

wrong. If you want to get in playlist, give that money to us.

It's a scam.

Now, you might have been thinking through the past couple sections, Drew, this is all very interesting, and you're looking weirdly handsome today. But I

don't listen to Spotify playlist, so none of this affects me. And it's

important to point out that the algorithmic boost given to these songs applies to every method of discovery across the app. So that could be autoplay after you finish an album, any radio mix from a song or artist, your

discover weekly, your daily mixes. Hell,

even if you just accidentally click the shuffle button twice and turn on this stupid feature, you are being served songs at a disproportionate level. Even

though Spotify has long been putting less emphasis in their officially curated playlists and more in their individually generated ones, they're all still made using the same algorithm. An

algorithm that is increasingly being influenced by paytoplay. It's honestly

kind of crazy that Spotify is able to monetize the same product in both directions. Listeners have to pay in

directions. Listeners have to pay in order to hear music that artists have had to pay in order to be heard. They

created a problem in order to sell you the solution. Discovery mode is often

the solution. Discovery mode is often described as a win-win for everyone.

Even though that's literally not possible cuz it's not creating any more revenue. It's just distributing it

revenue. It's just distributing it differently. If it was truly a win-win

differently. If it was truly a win-win for both artists and Spotify, well then everyone should sign up for it. But then

what would happen if every single artist did? whatever algorithmic boost they

did? whatever algorithmic boost they received would then be offset by the fact that somehow everyone else needs to get boosted too. Effectively, nothing

would change, except of course that Spotify would get a 30% discount on every single song that ever plays algorithmically. And from looking into

algorithmically. And from looking into it, it kind of seems like this is already starting to happen. I'm

wondering if they reached a point where too many artists signed up for the program and now it's not able to do anything because there simply aren't enough plays to go around. Don't worry,

though. I can almost guarantee that in the next couple years they're going to put out some revamped discovery mode. A

higher tier of visibility for just a little bit more. Wait, you're still only giving away 30% of your revenue? Yeah,

good luck with that, buddy. Everyone

else is giving away 80. In the early days, Spotify was able to use their giant pool of investor money to inflate artist payouts to make it seem like it was worth putting their music here. And

so they did. Everyone did. And now they don't have to overpay to convince people anymore. Artists are going to come here

anymore. Artists are going to come here no matter what. They have to. The

industry runs through Spotify. Their

subscribers have multiplied to unfathomable numbers, while the cost of that subscription has increased every 14 months like clockwork. And yet,

individual streams for independent musicians have never been worth less.

And now we're at the inevitable part of every tech endeavor's life cycle where the priority moves from gaining market share to strictly profitability at all costs. So, they will continue to cut

costs. So, they will continue to cut corners and underpay for content and inshitify their product, hoping you're too loyal to take your business somewhere else. Meanwhile, their CEO,

somewhere else. Meanwhile, their CEO, who is richer than any musician in the history of the world, has used that fortune to invest over half a billion dollars into a company that makes strike

drones for the military. In a world full of terrible corporations run by awful people, Spotify seems determined to vault themselves up to the top of that list. And yet, when it comes to music,

list. And yet, when it comes to music, they're still not even the biggest source of evil. Historically, music has always been a topheavy, exploitative industry. Young artists would get signed

industry. Young artists would get signed to aggressively long contracts that they didn't fully understand until years later when it was too late because they were trapped in it. In the 1990s, Prince went through a yearslong public dispute

with Warner Brothers over creative and monetary disagreement. It got so bad

monetary disagreement. It got so bad that in protest, he changed his name to an unpronouncable symbol. The label

tried to use his publicity stunts to frame him as this like spoiled crazy diva, but he was just fighting to be paid what he was worth. Sure, he was making a lot of money, but it still pald in comparison to what Warner was profiting off the back of his labor. And

when he was finally able to get out of that deal and self-fund and self-promote his own work, he proved that he had been getting screwed over because he made infinitely more money even on tours and albums that were less commercially successful. In 2007, after their record

successful. In 2007, after their record label was unwilling to renegotiate with them, Radio Head put out their In Rainbows album online using a pay whatever you want model. even if the

amount that you wanted to pay was $0.

And yet, they made more money distributing it this way than they had from all of their previous records combined. But it does beg the question,

combined. But it does beg the question, what the hell kind of deals were these guys signed to where they could sell millions and millions of albums and barely see any money from it? Well, for

starters, it wasn't uncommon for artists to be owed a singledigit percentage of the revenue made from their work. Not

that they owe 5% of it, right? That's

how much they get to keep. Even on the high end, that number tends to be about 15. When you first sign that deal,

15. When you first sign that deal, though, you're not worried about that because the label is going to lure you in with a number that blows your mind at a time in your life when you're probably broke. So, when they offer you an

broke. So, when they offer you an advance of say $250,000, you're going to say, "Do you have a pen?

Where can I sign?" And you're made aware that that money isn't actually yours to keep, that it's just a loan that you have to pay back, blah, blah, blah.

Whatever. You'll figure all that out later. For now, what matters is you're

later. For now, what matters is you're confident in yourself, and that number represents legitimacy. You made it. You

represents legitimacy. You made it. You

are a professional musician now. So, you

go and record the album while renting a lifestyle that you're not yet able to afford. And if you're lucky, that album

afford. And if you're lucky, that album does well. Really well, actually. You

does well. Really well, actually. You

sold half a million copies. Your music

has already generated $5 million. Great.

I'll take my 15%, I'll deduct the advance, and I got a pretty sweet payday for myself. Well, not so fast there,

for myself. Well, not so fast there, Rockstar. We're not done subtracting.

Rockstar. We're not done subtracting.

The advance wasn't the only loan. Every

single resource we provided to you needs to be paid for as well. The deal was you had access to them. Not that you get them for free. So, we're just going to make a few small adjustments and before

you know it, you somehow owe more debt than the amount we loaned you to start with. With each subsequent album, you

with. With each subsequent album, you only fall deeper and deeper into financial ruin. And you're one of the

financial ruin. And you're one of the successful ones. But as bad as this is

successful ones. But as bad as this is on paper, it's usually even worse in practice because often times the other companies that you as an artist are forced to do business with are also owned by the record label. So, per the

contract, we're able to deduct certain production costs before we calculate the amount that you are owed. Well, the

thing is we actually own the factory that produces all your CDs. And so, the price for that is, how do I put this?

Um, whatever we want it to be. We can

say a bunch of them broke. We can print and sell records we never even tell you about. Dude, we can pull numbers out of

about. Dude, we can pull numbers out of our ass. The more money you earn, the

our ass. The more money you earn, the more deductions we'll come up with to offset. And this process is never an

offset. And this process is never an accident. It's very much part of the

accident. It's very much part of the business model. For example, back in the

business model. For example, back in the 40s and50s, vinyl records were pretty fragile, which made them susceptible to breaking or scratching in transit. So to

account for this, there would generally be a flat like 15% reduction in revenue owed to the artist. Now, if common sense were to be applied, you would think that as the industry moved away from vinyls

and into nearly indestructible CDs and cassettes, that this charge would go away. It did not. Even into the digital

away. It did not. Even into the digital era where we're talking about MP3 files, many of those breakage fees were still incorporated. It is total nonsense. It

incorporated. It is total nonsense. It

is Highway Robber, an accounting firm that was referenced in this book, who was responsible for thousands of audits regarding hundreds of millions of dollars in royalty. Could recall only one time ever where the audit revealed

that it was the artist who owed money to the label. I can't believe they just

the label. I can't believe they just kept making the same error over and over again and it always worked out in favor of the labels. That's crazy. There's so

many coincidences in the music industry.

But we're still not done because even then, they're not just going to give you that money back. They're going to look you in the eyes and say, "What are you going to do about it?" Sure, if you're successful enough, you could try to take

on a lawsuit and fight a battle that best case scenario could earn you a decent settlement. But most likely,

decent settlement. But most likely, you're not going to want to do that because they have all the resources in the world to out lawyer you and waste all your money until there's none of it left. So, they'll offer a fraction of

left. So, they'll offer a fraction of what they owe you and hope that it makes you stop whining. But be careful, you might have pissed them off. They might

be holding a grudge against you. That

next album that you owe us, um, you still have to record it. You still have to pay us for it, but we're not going to put it out. I hope you enjoyed making music while it lasted because that's over now. This is the kind of

over now. This is the kind of exploitation that happens when power gets consolidated at the top. When the

labels that you can't live without control every part of the machine that you are forced to use.

Artists generate so much money for so many people that have nothing to do with the creative process at all. There's no

road you can go down that the artist isn't [ __ ] But things started to change pretty drastically in the 2000s. The rise of the internet brings on Napster and eventually Limewire. For the first time

eventually Limewire. For the first time in decades, overall music revenue is declining. But remember, most of that

declining. But remember, most of that money was going to record labels. So,

they were also the ones losing the most of it.

You see, I'm not a Napster fan. I don't

It seems to me like people are getting ripped off.

It's interesting because the uh artists don't get paid anyway.

Piracy may have been bad for the music industry, but in a way, it might have ultimately been a good thing for musicians because it caused a long overdue disruption. It took power out of

overdue disruption. It took power out of the hands of people who had been abusing it. Then social media starts to take

it. Then social media starts to take over. Suddenly fans can talk directly to

over. Suddenly fans can talk directly to their fans on on MySpace. They can post for other shows on Facebook. The labels

are now losing their status as the gatekeepers. Many of the marketing tools

gatekeepers. Many of the marketing tools they offered, the things that they were able to justify taking 99% of your money for were kind of becoming obsolete. Fast

forward to today, anyone can upload music to a streaming service. Anyone can

build a fan base. And in fact, a label won't even think about signing you unless you've already built a pretty big following online. Then at that point,

following online. Then at that point, it's like, what do you even need them for? You've done the hard part. They're

for? You've done the hard part. They're

probably just going to swoop in, take as much of your money as they can, and then drop you as soon as your fans move on to someone else. So then the question is,

someone else. So then the question is, how are they still able to get away with it? I thought we'd democratize the music

it? I thought we'd democratize the music industry. How do the labels still have

industry. How do the labels still have so much power? Well, this is where record labels and Spotify intersect.

Now, when you talk about record labels, there's a whole bunch of them, but there's really only three conglomerates that matter. Sony, Universal, and

that matter. Sony, Universal, and Warner. Sometimes referred to as the

Warner. Sometimes referred to as the majors or the big three. Thanks to their obsession with gobbling up every single thing they come into contact with, they now own about 70% of all recorded music

in history. I cannot emphasize enough

in history. I cannot emphasize enough that anybody who tried to do what Spotify did, which was to put every song ever made in one place for a small monthly fee, couldn't have made it even one inch without bending over backwards

for the record labels. It doesn't matter how good their user interface or algorithm is if they didn't have the music that people want to listen to. So,

the majors have always had extraordinary leverage over them, and they've maximized the hell out of it. They

negotiated massive advances from Spotify with no guarantee that any of that money would trickle down to their artists.

They got a bunch of free ad space that they would typically just sell with no guarantee that any of that money would trickle down to their artists. And they

also received a significant amount of equity in Spotify, about 18% total. I

think maybe the most insane detail I learned about while making this video happened in 2018. At the time, Spotify is quickly becoming the industry standard. Their user base is growing

standard. Their user base is growing every year. The company's getting

every year. The company's getting bigger, but they want to open up the floor to more investors, so they're ready to launch their IPO. But around

the same time, their licensing agreement with the big three labels was about to expire. Oh my god, talk about leverage.

expire. Oh my god, talk about leverage.

The labels had Spotify by the balls.

They could have renegotiated just about anything because if they didn't like the terms, they could have just taken all their artists off of the platform right before they go public and it would have completely destroyed them. Because who's

going to invest in a music company that doesn't have any music on it? So, what

did the majors do with all this power?

Well, they negotiated their rates down.

They asked for less money. Why would

they do that? You're asking, are they stupid? Well, we need to refer back to

stupid? Well, we need to refer back to that pie chart from earlier. Now, even

though most of these royalties end up going to record labels, some of them end up in the disgusting hands of independent artists. and we hate them.

independent artists. and we hate them.

Their greed is ruining an otherwise perfect business model. But then even the money that does go to the record labels has to be shared with all of our stupid artists and we hate them just as much. Sure, we've already made it so

much. Sure, we've already made it so it's as small of a percentage as it could possibly be, but it's still not nothing. We'd prefer if it was nothing.

nothing. We'd prefer if it was nothing.

Only we could leverage their work to make hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of millions of dollars without having to owe them a cent. Well, here's where that equity comes in. When they lowered artist royalty rates, Spotify became a

more valuable company. This meant their stock price went up and the majors could cash out for more. They figured out how to get paid anyway, but with money that their artists have no contractual claim to. But that wasn't the only benefit for

to. But that wasn't the only benefit for record labels because they also have something in their contract with Spotify called the most favored nation clause.

And what that means is that nobody else outside of the big three is allowed to negotiate higher rates with Spotify. So

when they lowered the rate for their artists, they in turn also lowered it for everybody else. Even if you don't work with a label, they will still find ways to screw you out of money. Now,

unfortunately, record companies hoarding the majority of the money their artists earn for them is nothing new. It's been

a staple of the industry for at least the past century. But the good news is live music is thriving, ticket sales are high, and musicians of all sizes are being fairly compensated. At least

according to an article I just read from March 9th, 2020. Wait, let me make sure nothing drastic has changed since then.

If the record industry is a story of three companies owning all of the music, then the live event industry is a story of one company controlling the entire mechanism by which concerts operate.

Since merging in 2010, Ticket Master and Live Nation have bulldozed their way into a monopoly that controls every part of the transaction. Not only do they own most of the biggest venues, but they've made it so the only way you can buy

tickets to those venues is through them.

And now that you have no other choice, we can charge all kinds of exorbitant fees. Service fees, processing fees,

fees. Service fees, processing fees, convenience fees. Come on, guys. Isn't

convenience fees. Come on, guys. Isn't

this convenient? And the monopoly goes in every direction since most artists are forced to work with them as well.

If they want to take 10% of the revenues and call it a facility fee, they can and have. If they want to charge $30,000 for

have. If they want to charge $30,000 for the house nut, they can. And have

some good news. The government sued Live Nation back in 2024, a lawsuit that recently reached a settlement. One of

their processing fees, which was revealed to be pure profit and didn't actually cover any costs, is now illegal. Uh, the bad news, they just

illegal. Uh, the bad news, they just moved it over to a service fee instead.

At least with streaming services, you can say that the customer is getting a good value. $12 a month for a trillion

good value. $12 a month for a trillion songs and I can listen to the hours of silence podcast. The prices aren't the

silence podcast. The prices aren't the problem. It's just what happens to that

problem. It's just what happens to that money later. But with live music, Ticket

money later. But with live music, Ticket Master's Monopoly only drives prices higher and higher and higher. Couple

that with a rapidly worsening economy for the average person and attendance rates are going way down. Some huge

artists with massive streaming numbers have had to cancel entire tours because not enough of their tickets were selling. And yet, if you ask Live Nation

selling. And yet, if you ask Live Nation CEO, he'll say they're still not expensive enough. Average concert price

expensive enough. Average concert price is $72. The concert is under

is $72. The concert is under underpriced. It's like a badge of honor

underpriced. It's like a badge of honor to spend 70 grand for a Nick's Courtzside.

They beat me up if we charge 800 for Beyonce. One of the biggest causes of

Beyonce. One of the biggest causes of price gouging is the resale market. Now,

an artist might try to set a maximum ticket price on one of their tours because they want as many of their fans as possible to be able to afford it. But

unless they have enough negotiating power, there's nothing stopping the secondary ticket market from swooping in and ruining it for everybody else. A

2016 law called the Bots Act was supposed to make it illegal for scalpers to use certain technology to buy large quantities of tickets and resell it all for a profit. But ticket master could not give less of a [ __ ] about that. When

a ticket gets resold through their website, they get to collect service fees on it twice. One when the scalper first bought it from them and then an even bigger fee when they resell it for

a higher price. The resale market is a huge factor for why tickets have ended up so expensive. But it's important to remember that any of that profit from a resale doesn't make its way back to the artist. To them, the transaction ended

artist. To them, the transaction ended when the first sale was made. So even

though they tried to make the ticket more affordable, their fans still had to pay twice as much anyway. only that

entire profit ends up in the hands of ticket master and the person or company who resold it. Um, which sometimes is also ticket master. The artists lose, the fans lose, but the giant company

wins again. Now, these had all been

wins again. Now, these had all been growing problems for years, but where [ __ ] really hit the fan was during co the industry got decimated, especially for smaller venues and musicians. But

many of the ones that did survived have seen their profits drop to an almost unsustainable level. I wanted to ask

unsustainable level. I wanted to ask some touring musicians about the business side of things. So, I drove up to Gainesville, Florida to talk to my friends Sergio and Andrew, who at the time of recording, we're about halfway through their tour with the band,

DanceGav, and Dance. Let's break down like a tour. We do two buses. One bus

for the band and one bus for the crew.

And then we have a semi because we have production, lighting, and all of our sound gear, all of our inear monitors, and then all of our backline, so our amp. So, when you do all of that, now

amp. So, when you do all of that, now you've got probably $300,000 plus dollars right out the gate for a month plus long tour for just transportation.

that doesn't cover gas, which is higher than ever.

Let's say, you know, a fan spends, just for math sake, $100 on a ticket. That's

a lot for a fan to spend. But there's

you take all these costs away and all of a sudden the amount of that's actually going to the band, what percentage goes to everyone who who reaches their hands in management agent, just on our team's side of things, 30% already gone. Your

Live Nation, your your extra fees, things like that, that's usually an extra 10%, sometimes 15, some cases 20.

The abstracts would be your expenses.

It's usually about 50%, sometimes more on on bigger tours. That leaves maybe $10 to $20 out of that ticket that goes to the band. And then that would be split four ways. So let's say it's 20.

If there's four members of your band, you're each getting five.

Now Dance Cavin Dance is doing well for themselves. They're one of the bigger

themselves. They're one of the bigger touring bands out there right now. But

by extrapolating this cost structure out to most bands that are a fraction of their size, you can see how it's becoming increasingly difficult to turn a profit from touring. And that's kind of a problem because historically

speaking, that's where most of their money is supposed to come from. I'm

nervous for the future of the industry for the same reason that I'm hopeful about it. People are always going to

about it. People are always going to make music no matter what. It's an

intrinsic part of our lives. It's one of humanity's oldest art forms. Most musicians would make music for free.

They would do it even if they lost money. It just sucks that a lot of

money. It just sucks that a lot of people know that and so they seem determined to make sure that they do. I

think the best way to support musicians, especially if they're independent, is to try to buy directly from them. Band Camp

is a great way to do this. Your money is going to go a lot further there than it is on streaming services. But also

physical versions of music, CDs, vinyls.

I love collecting vinyls. I've been

doing it since before I even had a record player. Nobody wants to sell you

record player. Nobody wants to sell you objects anymore. They just want you to

objects anymore. They just want you to sign up for a cloud subscription service. But I like owning physical

service. But I like owning physical objects that I can touch and look at and that represent a piece of art that I love. The fact that I can also listen to

love. The fact that I can also listen to it is kind of just a bonus. Streaming

can be great for music discovery. I

mean, sometimes it's nice to just have a machine play a bunch of songs until they find one that you like. I canceled my Spotify a couple years ago, but I still use YouTube Music cuz it's included in premium and I was already paying for

that anyway. And I found a lot of cool

that anyway. And I found a lot of cool bands from it. It's a useful service, but I also don't want to take it for granted. You know, just because it was

granted. You know, just because it was easy for me to discover an album doesn't mean it was easy for them to make it. If

someone's music adds value to my life, I want to try to give some of that back.

And I don't think the two cents they're getting for my subscription revenue is going to cut it. Now, what I wanted to do for this video was secretly put out some of my own music and document the journey of trying to be an independent

musician in 2026. But obviously, music takes a lot of time. You got to learn an instrument. You got to write something.

instrument. You got to write something.

and you got to learn how to record it.

You got to put it out. You got to figure out what the hell Drok Kid is. It's not

the kind of thing you can just pull out of your ass in a couple of months, you know. Um, so I decided that if I was

know. Um, so I decided that if I was going to do it, I should probably start 4 years ago. In 2022, my friends CJ and Julian asked me if I wanted to go jam

with them in a U-Haul storage unit. And

I said, "Sure, why not?" Even though I knew why not, because the thought of playing guitar in front of other people made me want to [ __ ] my pants. But I

also knew that sometimes the only way to grow as a person is to do stuff that scares you. I wish it wasn't. I wish you

scares you. I wish it wasn't. I wish you could grow just by playing on the computer. Pretty soon, we started

computer. Pretty soon, we started practicing once a week and then twice a week. Then our friend Kevin joined the

week. Then our friend Kevin joined the band, which meant that Julian and I could both play guitar instead of taking turns pretending to know how to play bass. At that point, we had already

bass. At that point, we had already written a bunch of songs, so we decided it was time to play them in public.

Made me want to [ __ ] my pants. The first

show we ever did was an open mic at a Cava bar where for some reason I wore the shortest shorts that I own. Our next

show was at another Cabava bar where we were way too loud. And then we played a hardcore show where we were way too quiet. This show was a nightmare for me.

quiet. This show was a nightmare for me.

Nobody liked our music. I said thank you like a hundred times. And during the last song, which was supposed to be like our big heavy closer, I was getting so much feedback for my amp that I had to turn off my distortion pedal and then no

one could hear me. And since our music is instrumental, it's kind of important that people can hear the instrument. I

left that show questioning my entire existence. Maybe I'm not cut out for

existence. Maybe I'm not cut out for this. Maybe I should just give up. And

this. Maybe I should just give up. And

then our next show was the best one so far. We did a couple more shows here and

far. We did a couple more shows here and there, but then we took a break to focus on our real goal, which was to make an album. We had the space to record it. We

album. We had the space to record it. We

had started buying the equipment. Kevin

was learning FL Studio. We had a bunch of songs. So instead of just dropping

of songs. So instead of just dropping like one or two singles and moving on, we decided we're not going to put anything out until we finish an entire album. Plus, how long did it take,

album. Plus, how long did it take, right? 3 months, 6 months, 2 years.

right? 3 months, 6 months, 2 years.

Turns out when you're four adult men with four adult jobs, three if you don't count YouTuber, there are only so many hours a week you have to devote to your instrumental emo band. So finally, after months of staring at the back of Kevin's

head, we exported the album. We hired

our friend Alexa to do the artwork. The

only direction I gave her for this was like, I don't know, maybe something with a bird on it. And then she handp painted this beautiful masterpiece. It's

actually too good. It's better than our music is. For real though, we're all

music is. For real though, we're all extremely proud of this album and the work that went into it. And we'd love it if you gave it a listen. It's like half the length of this video, so you can't tell me that you don't have time. You

could have listened to it twice already instead of watching this crap. Actually,

for all I know, you could have already listened to it. We put it out back in March of last year. So, here's what the past 15 months has been like. At first,

things were better than I expected. We

had a couple of the YouTube videos get like a 100red views right away. One of

the most gratifying moments of this entire process was getting like three comments from people saying, "I don't know how I got here, but this is really good." At one point, I saw that somebody

good." At one point, I saw that somebody Shazammed one of our songs and we talked about it for a week. So, everything was going pretty good. And then, like a month later, it completely stopped.

Turns out it doesn't matter how much time and effort and money you put into music. If you throw it up on streaming

music. If you throw it up on streaming services and don't tell anyone about it, it's probably just going to disappear into the void. There were weeks where I'd get an email from Apple that were like, "Hey, just letting you know,

nobody listened to your music this week.

Keep up the good work." It really does feel like we put a drop of water into the middle of the ocean and we're just waiting for people to find it. I guess

it also probably doesn't help that our band name has terrible SEO cuz it's a word that already exists but that we purposely spelled wrong on some platforms you can't find it even if

you're going out of your way to. But a

couple months ago I decided that it was time to lock in and that I would earnestly navigate some of the artist engagement tools the internet shoves in your face. I'd started using the band's

your face. I'd started using the band's Instagram page more to post about shows and connect with some other bands. And I

could tell that already Meta had all of the information they needed to categorize me into what I could only assume they call their desperate artist program. Because suddenly every single

program. Because suddenly every single ad I got was about posting banner ads on Spotify or having a website analyze my songs so they could pitch them to

playlist. Oh my god, this interface is

playlist. Oh my god, this interface is so predatory. They are doing everything

so predatory. They are doing everything they can to convince you that they're on your side. What do we get out of this?

your side. What do we get out of this?

Nothing, man. We just want to help a brother out.

Um, now if you wouldn't mind giving us $40. And what the [ __ ] is this? Your

$40. And what the [ __ ] is this? Your

analysis is expiring in 10 minutes. How?

What are you going to forget? My

trepidation turned to joy, though, when they told me that my sophisticated arrangement makes me stand out from amateur producers. Wow, I'm flattered.

amateur producers. Wow, I'm flattered.

They also told me I had a 74 hit potential. I had no idea. Who was going

potential. I had no idea. Who was going to tell me I was sitting on top of a gold mine? Out of curiosity, I tried

gold mine? Out of curiosity, I tried another one of my songs. Um, it's called Golden, and I wrote it for the Netflix original movie K-pop Demon Hunters. And

oh my god, the craziest thing happened.

They told me almost the exact same [ __ ] except they only gave this song a 72.

That's right. My instrumental guitar band has more commercial potential than the seventh most popular song of 2025.

Well, I guess that confirms it. They're

just lying to me to try and get my money or they're telling the truth and I'm going to perform at the Grammys. Better

get my credit card out just in case.

Before I fully give up on this website though, I do want to try one more track.

It's kind of niche. It's a little vulnerable, but I'm just curious to see if maybe somewhere out there's an audience for it. Um, it's called A

Thousand Farts and it's an hour long.

And would you look at that? This one has the highest score so far. This could

very well become the most popular song ever made. The more I engaged with these

ever made. The more I engaged with these ads, the more it confirmed that I was interested. And then any future ads I

interested. And then any future ads I got seemed like they weren't even really trying that hard. Yeah, we actually don't know anything about your song. But

just give us $100. Come on. What's the

worst that could happen? You die. I

don't think that could happen from this.

So just give us $100. I swear on my life I will try my absolute hardest to get you on top white girl music 2026 songs to sing along. best song to listen to at parties. And if that doesn't work, we

parties. And if that doesn't work, we could always try one called the best songs ever. Sure, that seems like a

songs ever. Sure, that seems like a realistic place to start. The sheer

flood of similar websites honestly made me distrustful of this entire cottage industry as a whole, but for the video, I wanted to try at least one of them.

So, I ran a campaign on SubmitHub. Now,

I have no idea if this is any more legit than these other websites, but at the very least, I think it's been around the longest. But just like the ones from the

longest. But just like the ones from the ads, immediately asking for 100 bucks.

This time though, I paid it. And then

for the next several days, I physically winced every time I opened my email to see a roundup of the process so far.

Rejection after rejection after rejection. Everyone generally had nice

rejection. Everyone generally had nice things to say. Hey man, this sounds great. You guys should be proud of this.

great. You guys should be proud of this.

I'd [ __ ] kill myself before putting it on any of my playlist. But good luck.

I'll give SubmitHub a little bit of credit for at least being transparent.

You can see exactly how the curators listen to your song. The problem though is that in some cases, how they listen to it was barely at all. I also realized in hindsight that I probably shouldn't have let them autopick the curators

after guessing my genre. And I should have tried to find playlists with music that sound similar to me and then manually targeted those. But at the same time, the one playlist I feel like we probably had the best chance of getting

on didn't even listen to half the song or give any feedback. And this cost me money. I had to pay this person. The low

money. I had to pay this person. The low

point of this process for me was when Submit Hub emailed me an AI summary of all my rejections. I also could have just copied and pasted them all into

Grock, but thanks for doing it for me, I guess. Not really sure what I'm supposed

guess. Not really sure what I'm supposed to do with this. None of these people wanted our song. What am I going to frame this on my wall? For a little over

$105, I ran a couple of decent meta ads, received entrance into one playlist that will at best net us a handful of streams, and I got a chat GPT summary of

everything I'm doing wrong. Now, I'm not saying that my bad experience should discount all of these services entirely.

Obviously, it works for some people some of the time, but it sure seems like this is just yet another opportunity for one more pair of grabby hands to lunge

towards your pockets as you try desperately to make waves in an endless ocean of content. The more oversaturated music gets, the more common these kinds of websites will become, and the more people who will try to profit off your

optimism before it runs out. Getting

anybody to give a [ __ ] about our music felt impossible. But at the same time,

felt impossible. But at the same time, it didn't really bother me that much cuz we didn't make this music with the hopes that it would like go viral. We made it because we wanted to. We wrote the exact

kind of music that we like to listen to.

This album only exists because we made it exist. And no amount of rejection

it exist. And no amount of rejection emails will ever take that away from us.

A lot has changed for us the past year.

Julian left the band and we've had to kind of reconfigure as a three-piece, but we're still writing a lot of music and we still play shows every so often if you want to see more of what we end up doing. Follow us on Instagram. We

up doing. Follow us on Instagram. We

also have a YouTube channel that I'm going to post some playthroughs on. And

I'll probably throw some other random [ __ ] out there, too. So, subscribe if that's something you're interested in. I

do have to mention though the um incident on May 27th, we played a show at Will's Pub. We were opening for a really cool band, I Met a Yeti. It was

an awesome night. Everyone had a great time. But somebody took a video of it

time. But somebody took a video of it and put it on TikTok and now everybody knows my secret. I cannot believe that I successfully hid this from the world for 4 years. And then like 2 weeks before I

4 years. And then like 2 weeks before I plan on making a video about it, someone else beat me to the punch. Not cool,

bro. But I guess it just goes to show that everything I said in this video was a total [ __ ] lie. Music's easy. What

are you guys whining about? All you have to do is be a YouTuber for 9 years, but don't make any music. Not yet. Once

you've given it at least 5 years, you can start a band with your friends, but don't tell anybody about it. It needs to be a surprise. Without the surprise, this doesn't work. Just keep chipping away at it in the background. Spend an

unbelievable amount of time and money on it. Record an album, release the album,

it. Record an album, release the album, make $18 from it each, and wait an entire year. Only then can you play a

entire year. Only then can you play a show at a local bar in Orlando, have it recorded by a random stranger who uploads it to Tik Tok where it goes medium viral for a couple of days, probably less so because people like the

music and more so just because it's kind of interesting you're even doing it at all. And that was my master plan. It may

all. And that was my master plan. It may

have taken me almost a decade, but it was all worth it when I saw our monthly listeners on Spotify go from a measly

109 all the way up to 75. Wait, is that it? That video got

75. Wait, is that it? That video got like a million views. Even in just the past 4 years since we started [ __ ] around in that storage unit, I feel like I've already seen corporate greed price

out so many artists from the industry and so many fans from being able to participate in it. But I also realized that there's a thriving local scene that I had no idea about until I started

going to shows and meeting all these really cool musicians, a lot of whom are now my friends. Maybe it's not always realistic to spend $300 on nosebleleed tickets at a soldout arena. But who

knows, there might be a free show happening right now at a nonprofit venue inside a bowling alley. Your new

favorite band might be performing at a bar 2 m from your house.

Music is worth making. If you feel the need and you feel the burning passion to want to make music or art in general, do it.

Recruit your friends. Get out and meet people. You might not be able to film

people. You might not be able to film your own music video, but your friend has a camera and has a film experience and wants to get involved in a project.

Develop that your friends. Develop each

other. Like, get into a a scene of people and build those relationships up from the ground up. I think beautiful things can come