Copyright rulings, Content ID, label drama, and what the machine age actually means for anyone releasing music. The analysis, minus the panic.
I spent a Tuesday afternoon doing something unglamorous: reading a royalty statement out loud to nobody, line by line, trying to find the number that matters.
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A four-band bill at a 120-capacity room. Doors at eight, three support slots and a headliner, each act getting a cut of the door split and roughly thirty-five minutes on a stage that a lot of people…
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A distributor I know got a takedown-adjacent question from a platform last quarter: prove this catalog of 400 tracks is human-made. Not "confirm you hold the rights" — that they could do.
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A number has been doing a lot of work lately. Somewhere between a rights-holder panel and a product roadmap deck, "half of new uploads are AI-generated" became the load-bearing fact of the AI music…
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A talent management company announces a "Music Division." There's a named executive at the top, a paragraph of prior affiliations — a major label here, a management shop there, a Grammy mention if…
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A track lands in your ingestion queue. The topline vocal is unmistakably synthetic — cloned timbre, that faint plastic sheen on the sibilants at 6kHz.
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Last spring I pulled a royalty statement for a track of mine that had been licensed to a mid-size European retail chain — background music, in-store, the kind of use that plays a few thousand times a…
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A press release lands in your inbox at 9am on a Tuesday. Someone you've half-heard-of takes a title you've never seen before at an organization you license through. Most people archive it.
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A catalog manager I know pushed 400 tracks to three streaming services last spring. One instrumental — an AI-assisted ambient bed with a live cellist over the top — came back from one platform tagged…
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A label strategist told me last spring that her whole Gen-Z plan was a spreadsheet of playlist editors. Pitch the editor, land the placement, ride the skip-rate. That was the plan.
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A label A&R I know spent last quarter obsessing over a mid-six-figure playlist push and never once opened a Twitch stream.
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There is a line you hear at every ticketing panel, delivered with the confidence of a weather report: regulate the resale market and you will destroy jobs.
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