Author: Amit Dubey

  • The Mid-Tier Manifesto: Why “Making It” Is a 20th Century Lie

    Most artists grow up believing the same story.
    You write a song, it lands on a major editorial playlist, a scout from a three letter label calls, and suddenly you are on a private jet.

    In 2026, that is not a career plan. It is a lottery ticket. And like all lotteries, the odds are designed so the house almost always wins.

    If you have read my earlier writing on the early career publishing blind spot, you know my focus stays on the backend of music. I do this deliberately. Because the front end, fame, blue checks, viral clips, is increasingly hollow.

    We are living through a quiet bifurcation of discovery.
    On one side are the mega stars.
    On the other is a growing, resilient middle class of musicians who are building real livelihoods without ever being famous.

    Which one are you actually chasing.

    The Death of the Big Break

    The music industry used to resemble a ladder. Garage to club. Club to theatre. Theatre to stadium.

    That ladder no longer exists.

    Today, it has been replaced by an infinite, flat ocean of content. With more than 150,000 tracks uploaded every single day, being noticed is no longer the challenge.

    Being retained is.

    Labels are no longer gatekeepers. They operate more like high interest banks. They rarely break artists from zero. They identify artists who have already built momentum and then participate in the upside.

    If you are waiting for a savior, you will be waiting a very long time.

    The Math of the Hundred Thousand Dollar Artist

    In 2026, the value of a passive listener is at an all-time low.
    The value of a committed fan has never been higher.

    To earn one hundred thousand dollars from streaming alone, an artist needs roughly twenty five to thirty million annual streams. For the vast majority of creators, that is an unreachable mountain.

    Now change the math.

    One thousand superfans.
    Each spending one hundred dollars a year through memberships, limited releases, live experiences, or direct support.

    Total revenue. One hundred thousand dollars.

    Which feels more achievable. Convincing one thousand people to care deeply, or convincing twenty five million strangers to stay for thirty one seconds.

    This model only works if you own the relationship.

    Which brings us to the three non-negotiable assets of the mid-tier artist.

    Your Three Sovereign Assets

    An owned list
    Your email or SMS list is your sovereign territory. It is the only channel that allows you to bypass rented platforms and shifting algorithms.

    Clean metadata
    Your ISRC codes are your modern identifiers. If the data is unclear or incomplete, money does not disappear loudly. It leaks quietly.

    A human moat
    AI can generate technically perfect music in seconds. It cannot tell the story of why you wrote a song at three in the morning in a damp room. That context builds trust. Trust converts listeners into long term supporters. That is your moat.

    The Bottom Line

    In 2026, the most dangerous place to be is visible but structurally weak.

    Do not let the pursuit of attention replace the pursuit of durability.

    Being a mid-tier artist is not a consolation prize. It is often the most sustainable outcome. It means you control your time. You retain ownership. You build a future that does not depend on constant permission.

    Stop chasing virality.
    Start building something that lasts.

    The shift from artist to sovereign business owner is slow, uncomfortable work. But it is also the work that allows careers to compound quietly over time.

    The future does not belong to the loudest artist. It belongs to the most prepared one.

  • When Machines Compose: The Human Authorship Dilemma

    If AI is trained on human music, shouldn’t credit and compensation travel back to the humans, not just the algorithms?

    Copyright law has traditionally protected work that arises from human effort, intention, and creative judgment. In simple terms, it safeguards expression that can be traced back to a conscious human act.

    This is where AI complicates things.

    When a piece of music sounds indistinguishable from something a person might have composed, but the process behind it is largely automated, where do we draw the line for authorship? At what point does human involvement meaningfully shape the outcome, and when does it become closer to operating a tool?

    If a creator tweaks a prompt, refines a few words, or nudges a model in a particular direction, does that intervention qualify as creative authorship? Or is it simply configuring a system rather than creating a work?

    These questions may feel theoretical today, but they sit at the heart of how copyright will need to evolve. The law cannot rely only on how human the final output appears. It has to examine where creative judgment actually resides.

    A Lesson From Recreated Works

    The music industry already offers a useful reference point.

    Take Ek Ho Gaye Hum Aur Tum from the film Bombay. The song was composed by A. R. Rahman, written by Mehboob, and sung by Remo Fernandes. Years later, when The Humma Song was recreated for OK Jaanu, the system did not erase the original work.

    Rahman’s authorship remained intact. Mehboob continued to be credited as the lyricist. The recreated version openly acknowledged its lineage, even while adding new performers, new production layers, and a contemporary sound.

    What changed was the expression.
    What did not change was the origin.

    That distinction matters.

    The recreated version extended the life of the work without disconnecting it from its source. Credit flowed backward as well as forward. Royalties followed attribution. This was not just ethical. It was good system design.

    Now imagine applying that same logic to AI generated music.

    If an AI generated track were required to transparently declare its source material and lineage, a composer sitting in a small town like Chaibasa in Jharkhand could still be credited and paid if fragments of their work informed a track released by an artist in Spain or anywhere else in the world.

    That is the real opportunity here. Not erasure, but inclusion. Not fear, but design.

    Where AI Forces a New Question

    Copyright law protects works that arise from human labour, effort, and creative judgment. AI challenges this not because the output looks human, but because the process often is not.

    Changing a sentence in a prompt or adjusting parameters may influence the result, but influence alone is not the same as authorship. The difficult task ahead is defining where human creativity meaningfully shapes the outcome, and where it stops.

    This distinction matters because without it, we risk either denying protection to genuine human creativity or granting ownership where little creative judgment actually exists.

    Global Signals Are Already Emerging

    Around the world, the industry is responding in fragmented but revealing ways.

    Bandcamp has taken a strict position by banning AI generated music entirely from its platform. Deezer has begun tagging AI generated tracks and is experimenting with systems to prevent AI driven streaming fraud from distorting royalties. Governments like the United Kingdom have publicly acknowledged the need to revisit copyright frameworks after strong pushback from creators.

    These are not theoretical discussions. Platforms and policymakers are already shaping how AI music will be treated in practice, even as the law struggles to keep pace.

    The Indian Context

    In India, this conversation is still taking shape, but it has clearly begun.

    Government bodies and policy groups have started releasing discussion papers and consultation notes examining how artificial intelligence intersects with copyright, licensing, and creator remuneration. These early signals reflect an acknowledgement that existing frameworks may not fully address the realities of AI assisted creation.

    As of January 2026, no country has enacted a comprehensive AI specific copyright law. However, several jurisdictions, including India, are actively debating possible approaches. The focus so far has been on understanding authorship, accountability, and how value should flow when human creativity and machine systems operate together.

    This moment presents an opportunity. India can learn from global debates while designing frameworks that protect creators without resisting technological progress.

    A Question Worth Sitting With

    The question is no longer whether machines can create convincing music. They already can.

    The real question is whether our copyright systems are prepared to recognise, measure, and protect human creativity when it operates alongside machines rather than in isolation.

    If we get this right, AI does not have to weaken creative economies. It could strengthen them, especially for creators who have historically remained invisible or underpaid.

    But that only happens if we design for clarity, not convenience.

    And that work, like most foundational work in music, happens quietly.

    As technology evolves, how will you define your own authorship in the music you create?

  • The Sync Singularity: When Your Music is the New Territory in an $82 Billion War

    A music blog is perhaps the last place you expected to read about an $82.7 billion corporate bidding war. But this week, as Netflix and Paramount fought over Warner Bros., something quiet happened. The future of music in film and television was rewritten.

    For a moment, look past the staggering numbers and the headlines about streaming subscribers. This is not a story about screens. It is a story about sonic real estate.

    The real prize is not the Warner Bros. studio lot. It is the keys to storytelling universes that have shaped our culture for decades. Harry Potter. Game of Thrones. Batman. The true asset is not just the film reel but the score. It is the emotional DNA of these worlds, written in melody and theme. The victor in this fight will control some of the most valuable musical properties ever created.

    This is not just a media merger. It is a fundamental shift in power. For composers, publishers, and anyone whose living is tied to the music of visual media, the ground has moved beneath your feet.

    The Composer’s New Reality: Fewer Doors, Harder Knocks

    Consider the journey of an independent composer. For years, it has been a path of pitching, building relationships, and finding a creative home across a landscape of different studios. Each studio was a potential patron with its own taste and vision.

    Now imagine that landscape shrinking. Fewer doors to knock on. Fewer distinct creative voices calling the shots. This consolidation risks what Hollywood unions already fear. A narrowing of vision. A pressure to conform to a new corporate “sound” rather than chase a unique musical voice.

    It also reshapes the negotiation table. When there are only a handful of global buyers for your talent, who holds the leverage? The promise of backend royalties from global streaming, the lifeblood of a composer’s long term income, may face new pressures under the banner of corporate “synergy” and cost saving.

    The Publisher’s Dilemma: A Catalog Locked in a Vault or Opened to the World?

    Warner’s vaults hold not just films, but one of the world’s great music publishing catalogs. Iconic themes, legendary scores. The question now is one of strategy.

    Will the new owner treat this music as a exclusive asset, locking it down to fuel only their own productions? Or will they license it widely, seeing value in letting their musical IP score stories told by others?

    For other publishers and labels, this creates a new benchmark. The value of a clear, clean, and easily licensable catalog has never been higher. In a world of corporate giants, your ability to prove what you own and make it simple to license is your greatest strength. Messy metadata is no longer an administrative headache. It is a strategic failure.

    The Independent’s Strategy: How to Thrive When the Giants Dance

    This news might feel overwhelming. But within this shift lies immense opportunity for the prepared creator.

    First, own your signature. In an age of homogenized corporate IP, a distinctive, authentic musical voice is your most powerful asset. Double down on what makes your composition unique. That originality cannot be replicated by an algorithm or a boardroom.

    Second, build your own audience. Your direct connection to listeners is your fortress. A corporate studio can own a soundtrack, but they cannot own the relationship between you and the people who love your work. Cultivate that community through live performance, direct communication, and shared stories. This is your unassailable ground.

    Third, treat your work as strategic IP. Every composition is more than a piece of art. It is a piece of intellectual property. Understand its ownership, its rights chain, and its potential value. Approach your catalog not just as a creative portfolio, but as a strategic business asset.

    The Sound of the Future

    The $82 billion battle for Warner Bros. is a signal flare. It tells us that in the new economy of attention, music is not a secondary element. It is central to the value of a story. It is territory worth fighting for.

    The next decade will not be won by those with the biggest vaults, but by those with the clearest strategy. The composers, publishers, and rights holders who understand that their work sits at this crucial intersection of art, emotion, and commerce will be the ones who shape the future.

    They will be the ones who ensure that as the giants consolidate, the music itself does not become a casualty.


    If you are a composer, publisher, or label looking to navigate this new landscape, to audit your rights, and to build a strategy that turns this consolidation into your opportunity, let us talk. The future of your music is worth planning for.

  • The Wrapped Paradox: Why We Celebrate the Metrics That Don’t Pay Us

    Every December your feed turns blue and green. Friends, fans, and fellow artists proudly share their Spotify Wrapped. It’s colourful, playful, and instantly recognisable. A quick snapshot of everyone’s year in music.

    For artists this ritual is even more emotional. We wait for our Artist Wrapped with the same excitement we had before a big report card in school. We share the minutes streamed, the new countries reached, and screenshots of fans who had us on repeat. It feels like proof that the music connected. Proof that the year meant something.

    But here is the quiet contradiction many artists feel. The same numbers we celebrate with so much pride translate into very little money. One analysis estimated that it takes around three hundred streams to earn enough for a cup of coffee.

    So why do we still celebrate it? And what should we really be asking Spotify for?

    The psychology behind sharing

    Sharing your Wrapped is not shallow or naive. It’s a smart move in a world where visibility drives opportunity.

    Wrapped has become a cultural moment. It’s the one day when everyone talks about music in the same format. By joining in artists place themselves inside a global conversation. They use high quality visuals made by Spotify to show their presence.

    It also works as career collateral. Screenshots of top listeners or global reach become social proof. They help with booking shows, negotiating brand work, and showing publishers or labels that the audience is growing. When financial transparency is missing these metrics become the next best credential.

    The real issue: celebration without clarity

    This is where things get complicated.

    Wrapped shows attention but hides value. It answers the question “who listened?” but leaves out the answer to the real business question “what did that listening earn?”.

    Imagine a shopkeeper being told how many people walked by the store but not what they bought. That is what Wrapped feels like for many artists.

    What artists actually need is a version of Wrapped that adds clarity. A year-end report that shows:

    Actual earnings attribution
    A breakdown of how each stream turned into publishing, mechanical, and performance royalties.

    Fan pathway insights
    Not just where listeners are located but how many converted into real supporters. Ticket buyers, newsletter sign-ups, merch clicks.

    Campaign understanding
    Which release created lasting listeners and which one created only a one week spike. This is what turns data into actual strategy.

    The ecosystem around your royalties

    Your per-stream royalty is not random. It comes from a large shared pool. And this pool is constantly under pressure. A huge volume of low-quality AI generated tracks have entered the system over the past two years. Spotify removed millions of such uploads last year.

    Every time you see your minutes streamed it’s important to understand the environment behind that number. Fighting for a transparent Business Wrapped is also fighting for a system where human music is recognised and valued.

    What you can do this December

    Share your Wrapped. Enjoy the cultural moment. Let it open doors for you.

    But also ask the deeper questions. Talk about what you truly need as a creator. Encourage conversations around transparency. Advocate for a year-end view that shows earnings, impact, and real connections.

    The future belongs to artists who understand their data as confidently as they understand their craft. The metrics that matter most are the ones that show not just that you were heard, but that you were valued.

    If you are an artist or label ready to move beyond celebration and build a clear data-driven plan for sustainable growth, I’d be happy to help you get started.