What’s cooking in Music DAOs? MusicFund, Dreams Never Die, Water & Music, FWB Gatekeeper, Polly, XYZ & Club BPM

The Web3 is about the “fundamental reorganisation of the internet towards ownership, data portability & being able to ascribe value to our digital assets.” This quote, by Zoe Scaman who’s also behind the New Creator Manifesto, perfectly describes what has so many people so excited to work with DAOs, NFTs and tokens.

At this point in time, it takes quite a lot of onboarding to make the web3 click for most people. Until it clicks, a lot of what’s happening understandably looks like a grift. Or, to be more accurate, it’s hard to distinguish the grifts from the genuine attempts to reorganise the internet towards something less extractive. For some people, the moment it clicks is when they start using crypto wallets to login to services and take their decentralized username along for the ride, which is why I’ve recorded a primer to get folks set up to do exactly that.

What may also help make things click is hearing about relevant examples of this reorganisation of the internet. Currently, there are probably a dozen or two experiments every month that may contribute to the reorganising of music’s digital value chain in a way that benefits creators, fans and their surrounding communities more directly. Here are some of the ones I’ve come across recently.

MusicFund

The MusicFund is a community for discovering, funding and curating music. People can join by minting one of a total of 10,000 generative NFTs. The funds raised are used to create grants for artists and to support the community. Currently, these grants are distributed by allocating 1 ETH to a batch of three curated artists, which is then split based on how the community votes, with the top contender taking 0.6, and the runner-ups 0.25 and 0.15 ETH (at time of writing, 1 ETH is about $4300 USD). In order to vote, one must log in with their wallet which must hold a MusicFund NFT. Its latest line-up is curated by Before The Data, successor to music blog Hillydilly, which is also running a DAO of its own.

Disclosure: I was airdropped a MusicFund NFT.

Dreams Never Die Records DAO

Dreams Never Die is a label by the same crew as Before The Data & Hillydilly. It aims to help artists at their earlier stages. Now, by organising itself as a DAO, it intends to “become an incubator for brand-new artists and aspiring music business talent alike, built around an incentivized and aligned community that participates in discovering, developing, distributing, and promoting the roster.”

It’s in its earliest stage, having only just done its first town hall discussion on Discord and hasn’t raised funding yet. If you’re new, this is a great stage to get involved or just go along for the ride and see how the organisation evolves by idling in their Discord.

Water & Music

If you’re not familiar with the phenomenal publication and community Cherie Hu has set up, and I occasionally contribute to, you should check out Water & Music and consider subscribing. They’re now being accelerated by Seed Club, which specializes in tokenized communities, in order to develop a ‘new collaborative research model’ which I assume will see token distribution based on community contributions. Its first collaborative research report covers spatial audio and just before Halloween the community kicked off a large collaboration to document music & web3.

Again, early stage, so it’s a good time to get involved.

FWB & Web3 Ticketing

Blockchain-based ticketing isn’t new (GUTS Tickets comes to mind), but this initiative is notable because it originates from a DAO. The Friends With Benefits DAO is a social community of creatives and builders. When, post-pandemic, it was possible to start meeting IRL again, the DAO started throwing token-gated events.

Token-gating is a common practice in DAOs, it’s used in the above example from MusicFund to restrict voting to members only and is also commonly used to close off certain Discord channels to the community. FWB wanted to be able to token gate live events and developed its own tool for it called Gatekeeper.

They’re making the app available to organisers and other DAOs to experiment with it.

I think examples like this are exciting, because anyone can build something on top of anyone’s token. If I want to organise a music conference in Berlin and I want to give free attendance to people who have earned a lot of tokens by contributing to FWB or Water & Music, I can set that up (of course, I recommend being diplomatic about it). No central body owns the community or the relations between community members: the token is held by the participants of the network. It’s an empowering type of decentralization.

Disclosure: I hold FWB tokens.

Polly

One of the most creative technologists & musicians I see experimenting in the web3 right now is Troels Abrahamsen, who I know from Songcamp. He runs a number of projects, which you can read about in this thread, but I want to highlight a specific one called Polly, a tool (or smart contract) that is just entering development. It’s “a proof of concept label backend for releasing simple semi-on-chain singles as collectibles.

XYZ

Another musician I know from Songcamp is Colt, who has just announced a new DAO called XYZ which aims to “continuously and sustainably release original, high-quality music onto web3 and web2 channels, building expertise in music distribution in the crypto era.”

The project just raised 4.5 ETH ($20k at time of writing) in funds by selling NFTs & dropping its own $WAV token to the community, which will be used for governance.

“In the future, participants will earn $WAV for participating in the production and sale of music NFT releases. Each release is an event that brings more token holders into the DAO.”

Club BPM’s BPM Bot

To round things up, I wanted to highlight BPM Bot. When YouTube started shutting down music bots, the Songcamp community wanted a way to keep playing music on Discord, so they raised funds for the development of a bot that plays music from Catalog NFTs. To me that’s exciting, because it brings more visibility to these songs, thus increasing the value of being the owner of their NFT. It’s web3 communities linking and utilizing open data and interoperability to build tools to create value and utility together. It’s currently used on 47 Discord servers.

Disclosure: I participated in the BPM crowdfund and hold some tokens.


This list is not meant to be exhaustive. I think it’s currently possible to set up a daily newsletter to document everything that’s happening in music x web3 (I’ll consider serious sponsorship / bankroll offers, DM me). A great daily read about DAOs in general is ForeFront‘s #ff-daily channel on Discord.

I hope this communicates the energy, excitement and creativity in the space. I also hope it shows that people who are working on projects that, traditionally, would be competing are now figuring out ways to make their projects interoperable, because everyone stands to win from that.

Regardless of tokens, NFTs and cryptocurrency, these are amazing, vibrant and supportive communities of people who want to create new things together in order to support musicians. You can bring your skills to the table without knowing how any of this web3 stuff works. That’s how you start learning and that’s how you eventually start seeing the value of communities owning the value they generate.

Lana Del Rey: how to kill an artistic persona in the social media age

Lana Del Rey is back with her seventh studio release, ‘Blue Banisters’, tomorrow – and off social media indefinitely. A full decade after she blew up with her viral hit Video Games, it’s worth asking; can an artistic persona pull through the social media age, or is it meant to be destroyed by parasocial relationships (and rivalries) we form with the people behind them?

When I first heard the opening lines of Lana Del Rey’s 2019 record ‘Norman Fucking Rockwell!’, I was perplexed. God-damn man child, the Manhattan singer croons. You fucked me so good that I almost said, I love you. Wasn’t this self-assured narrator just singing about how he hit me and it felt like a kiss

Around the time ‘NFR’, as it’s known, came out, Duncan Cooper of Vice boldly claimed that if it wasn’t for Lana Del Rey, there would be no Billie Eilish or Lorde. Many found Cooper’s article to be strangely venomous towards a certain Taylor Swift, but Lana’s admirers’ aggressive defensiveness may come from a place of near-trauma. That trauma was the early 2010s, and the way social media viciously tore into the decade’s first musical star – Lana Del Rey. Last year, Elizabeth Grant (Lana Del Rey’s given name) defended herself against a slew of critics that now adored her – in a puzzling, potentially career-finishing statement

Long gone are the days of the mid-century nymphet singing about riches and fame; in 2020, the woman known as Lana Del Rey concluded her transformation into a real-life person, who makes music about the uncomplicated life of a waitress handling the heat. It’s as if, when she sang in ‘NFR’s The Greatest, back in 2019, the culture is lit and I had a ball, I guess I’m signing off after all, she really was.

Go play your video games: an (internet) star is born – and killed

Recently, in an act of revisionist history, Pitchfork rescored some of their past album reviews. Among them was Del Rey’s debut, 2012’s ‘Born To Die’, bumped from a 5.5. to a 7.8. Now that the singer has clawed her way into industry acceptance, it’s easy to forget that Pitchfork’s middling review was not an anomaly at the time; in fact, they were far kinder than others. Evan Rytlewski of the A.V. Club, for example, called ‘Born To Die’ shallow and overwrought, with periodic echoes of Ke$ha’s Valley Girl aloofness. Oof. 

But, for better or worse, she was a trailblazer. When Cooper pinpointed Lana Del Rey as the predecessor of Lorde and others, he didn’t just mean as the first internet sad girl (something which YouTuber bambasalad broke down perfectly). Lana may have been the first pop artist to do what is now a weekly occurrence: to blow up solely on the back of online hype. That’s exactly the reason why Paul Harris of the Guardian was quick to call her an example of modern fame
In October 2011, a video spread like a wildfire in the multimedia sharing platform Tumblr; it was simply titled Lana Del Rey – Video Games. The song was lush, grandiose, profoundly romantic; the video, an apparently homemade collage of old Hollywood fixtures, grainy home movies, and Lana herself. The next twelve months would be a whirlwind for Elizabeth Grant, the quiet singer who had been trying to make it for years – now Lana Del Rey.

A few months later, Lana Del Rey dropped her second music video, Blue Jeans. Her few live shows sold out. She was nominated for and won awards. Normally, this would signal a clear upward trajectory; but, as fast as she rocketed towards cultural adoration, she imploded on the very same place it had started – online. 

The smoke started rising as the internet caught wind of Elizabeth Grant’s origins. An inspiring rags-to-riches story? Turns out she’s a millionaire’s daughter. A DIY music video and song? Apparently, she’s backed by Interscope, a major label. Even the reveal that her obviously fake stage name had been picked by her management read as betrayal.

But the true fire starter was an appalling Saturday Night Live performance in January of the following year, which was trashed by everyone from anonymous bloggers to NBC News anchor Brian Williams (who called it one of the worst outings in the show’s history). At the time, the singer lamented to Rolling Stone: there’s a backlash to everything I do. True, that. By the time ‘Born To Die’ came out, two weeks later, the public was already cold.

The culture is lit and I had a ball: from redemption arc to cancelation

How did Lana Del Rey survive such a disastrous start of her career, fuelled by one of the most ferocious (and, as many have pointed out, misogynistic) character assassinations in recent memory? 

According to Reddit user gabachoelotero, it happened through sheer grit and fan adoration. These were crucial not just for Lana Del Rey’s progress, but for her triumph. Lana kept on releasing music, all the while continuing to hone her glamorous persona through sound, aesthetics, and fashion. 

As Lana carried on the fantasy – draping herself in the American flag, double-cosplaying as Jackie and Marilyn, and playing the troubled nymphet – it continued attracting controversy. One of her critics was Lorde herself, who said the gloomy singer’s world was unhealthy for young girls. In a culture that increasingly pushed for self-awareness, Lana’s out-of-touch dreamscape made many uneasy. 

Still, her fan base grew, steady and ferocious, until, in 2019, she got her due. ‘NFR’ was a certified critical darling. It nabbed the singer two Grammy nominations; Pitchfork called her one of America’s greatest living songwriters. But, with Lana Del Rey, there is always a twist.  

The day is May 21st, 2020. Lana Del Rey takes to Instagram with a question for the culture…. In her text post, which garnered over 1.6 million likes in a day, she says she is disgruntled with how her music is being treated by the critics, in comparison to other female artists. She protests about how other singers found success with songs about being sexy, wearing no clothes, cheating – while she has faced backlash for singing about sometimes submissive or passive roles in relationships. Many noticed that the other artists she compared herself to favorably – Doja Cat, Camila Cabello, Beyonce, and others – were almost all women of color. It was – as Twitter put it relentlessly – a bad look.

To make it worse, Elizabeth Grant proved she had no awareness whatsoever of how the cancel culture machine operates, and later committed the cardinal sin; defending herself. Don’t ever, ever, ever, ever call me racist, because that is bullshit, she cried. 

It was bad, really bad. Even I could tell her career was over.

Question for the culture: are we done with artistic personas? 

Looking back at Lana Del Rey’s trajectory, it’s safe to say playing the part got to her – and to us. But she hasn’t quit; since her infamous outburst, she’s released a poetry book and an album – ‘Chemtrails Over the Country Club’, which garnered positive reviews. Now, she’s back with ‘Blue Banisters’. The album’s first single, Arcadia, sees her tally the usual; cars, hotels, heartache, and, of course, America – a word she has alluded to so often it no longer resembles anything real. 

But there is something truthful here, as was on her last outing. In Arcadia, Lana Del Rey may still be singing her brand; but now she’s on the outside looking in. She no longer sounds cool and detached – on her chorus, her voice quivers. When she promoted the song on Instagram, she said; ‘listen to it if you listened to video games’. Then, she dipped.

Only Lana Del Rey herself can say until when she intends to chase her fictional muse; her new, unpolished sound makes it seem like she’s retired it for a new, permanently offline one. Maybe the only way to have an artistic persona nowadays is to disengage completely, or else your social media presence will find a way to break the veneer.  

Revisiting Lana Del Rey’s magnum opus, Video Games, a decade later, I find it has now the same quality of a precious antique. It’s the product of a time where the internet was radically different, as was our relationship to the artists we listened to. 

In 2011, all I knew about Lana Del Rey was what she told me; that she was an elusive ‘vamp of constant sorrow’, as Brian Hiatt of Rolling Stone once profiled her. Hell, she might have not been a real person, for all I know – with no real intent, thoughts, politics. Now I know far, far too much.

3 levels of DAO involvement for musicians (and those who love music)

The internet is entering a new era of community. The web3 has unlocked the possibility for communities to easily come together across platforms, which gives communities a sense of ‘realness’ that doesn’t feel the same as being on a web2 platform. Web3 gives people collective ownership of their community by holding tokens in their web3 wallets like MetaMask or Rainbow. This means it’s not the tech giants owning your data and the actual community; it’s the community that owns itself.

Digital products are trying to service these communities by letting them sign in with their own wallets, utilizing and keeping their own data. That’s a big departure from the walled garden approach of app stores and contemporary social media giants. This gives many of these communities, also called DAOs or decentralized autonomous organisations, a feeling of actual agency. Besides the fact that the space is ‘early’ and loads of rails still have to be built out, I think it’s this unspoken sentiment of agency which is energizing the people moving into community-based social media rather than social feed-based social media.

So how do you participate?

Level 1 – observe & support

Almost everyone starts here. When joining communities, just take some time to get a feel of what’s going on, what’s being shared, what are the values, who are the key people involved, etc. You might learn about adjacent communities and may have a look at them too. If a community is not your cup of tea; move on.

If you find a community that you do resonate with, the easiest thing you can do is support. Show love, be part of celebrating, amplify what members are doing (e.g. by spreading the word). Anyone can do this and it hardly requires any onboarding or understanding of the intricacies of the DAO.

Level 2 – advisory, component-building & storytelling

Once you’re actually part of a community, it will be easier to start chiming in when it comes to topics you have specific expertise about. For many reading, that’s music or the music business. In a creative community, ‘chiming in’ doesn’t just mean speaking up occasionally; it also includes making things.

What shape that takes really depends on the way the community is set up. One example is a recent contest Songcamp ran in which musicians could submit intros for Seed Club’s new podcast.

Things can also be more organic. Once you’re part of the community and see something that can be improved, do it or organise to do it. It’s a similar mentality as what you see in the free party scene where visitors are expected to contribute to the party, which sometimes means dozens of soundsystems from all over the continent gathering to throw an event open to participants for free.

This is the stage where ideas and proposals start to take shape:

  • We should have a landing page, so people can get an idea of what we’re about;
  • We should have local chapters;
  • We should create better ways to onboard new people to the community;
  • What if we had generative PFPs for all members?

Etc.

Even with a few hours per week or per month of writing, organising, developing, or making, you can achieve a lot together with a community.

Level 3 – governance

If you’re interested in a larger commitment, you can get involved in governance, which is something you’ll find natural paths towards through active contribution in most DAOs. This usually requires a pretty decent understanding of most web3 dynamics, such as tokenomics and tooling, or at least the willingness to learn. (DAOs tend to figure things out along the way and good new tools enter the sphere on a weekly basis)

However, governance is not about technology. The technology enables us to deal with existing problems in better ways than we have before. Just to name two examples of non-technical topics for DAOS:

  1. Moderation and community guidelines.
  2. Onboarding members.

In my opinion, more DAOs should think about how they onboard new people, so that these communities can be more inclusive of people currently underrepresented in the space.

How to find DAOs

The easiest way is to install Discord and join every server of communities, tools and marketplaces that seem interesting to you. Check in on a few channels regularly and ignore or mute the rest. If you’re enjoying a community, start unmuting channels. If you hear about a community, consider checking it out.

Here are some great Discords to start with:

See you in the metaverse.

Who controls the flows of money in music?

Traditionally, when you start to make music you’re looking for three things:

  • A manager
  • A record deal
  • A publishing deal

Of course, that third one is only if you’re a songwriter or composer. But these are the three ways you, as an artist, will look to turn your IP into profit. We’re currently moving through a paradigm shift in music – and the internet more broadly – when it comes to creation, ownership, fandom, and monetization. As this process accelerates, the previous traditional deals and contracts will also shift, adapt, change, and potentially subsumed by other types of agreements. But let’s start with some recent history on those traditional deals.

The Manager

As the music industry’s bible puts it, the single most important thing is the team an artist puts around themselves to help them grow. The first person they usually find is a manager. Together, the artist and manager work to put the music out into the world, attract fans, go on tour, build a brand, etc. Because the manager and artist should have a complete alignment of interests, the manager usually gets a flat fee on all the revenues that come through from the artist’s IP. Unfortunately, just as traditional as the mostly symbiotic relationship between manager and artist so is the fact that it’s based on a ‘handshake deal.’

Even one of the most famous independent artists, Chance the Rapper, and his manager, Pat ‘the Manager’ Corcoran, worked together for years on nothing more than an oral agreement. Even when they set up three separate companies to support merchandise, touring, and other income derived from streaming, licensing, etc., they never signed an official agreement together. Eventually, the relationship turned sour and first Pat sued Chance, and then Chance sued Pat. What’s most striking about these lawsuits isn’t the money involved, or even that the manager-artist relationship was based on a handshake deal, but how personal the filings are. What shines through everything is a deep and particular relationship. Reading those filings also shows how the manager involves themselves in every aspect of the artist’s career and brand. Again, this is aided by the monetary agreements. But if the artist is a brand, and in Chance’s case a brand with three different companies, then the manager isn’t a manager but a COO (chief of operations) to the artist’s CEO (chief executive officer) position. As artists develop this brand and entrepreneurial side of themselves and their music, they would do well to look for COOs instead of managers. The products and vision related to the music has changed from the time of the artist-manager relationship heyday.

The record deal

The proverbial golden egg that most musicians still want the most. Why? Status, advances, global marketing power, etc. There’s still a lot of pull from having a big, established, company look after your production, distribution, promotion, royalty registration and collection, and that takes care of the necessary clearances. And there’s something to be said about the luxury of an advance to help you produce your album. But that luxury comes at the expense of ownership as you mostly sign away the rights to your music to the label.

Moreover, the promise of revenues once your album is out, the royalties you agreed on, disappers into thin air when the cost deductions are taken into account. Lisa ‘Left Eye’ Lopes once did some fantastic napkin math on this. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PKEjTTKGIUo

How this works? It’s all about the language in the contracts. Remember when Kanye West dropped his contracts onto Twitter? There’s a helpful clause in there about ‘recoupment’. It goes as follows: “all costs incurred by UMG in connection with the … album shall be included in costs when determining recoupment.” So that’s all costs without a specific definition of what they include. For a contact which otherwise wins out in how it specifies everything, that’s remarkable. It’s also industry-standard. All in all, Kanye was not on a bad deal with his record label, but that’s beside the point. What matters is that artists do not retain their own rights.

The publisher

When you’re a songwriter or composer you deal with publishers. Throughout the 20th Century most of the money coming in through copyright flowed to those songwriters. That, however, is changing. Partly, because of how some of the rights these publishing deals are based on are archaic. And partly, because of how the industry has developed an ever increasing focus towards recorded music.

The former relates to things like mechanical rights. Something developed in the USA in the early 20th Century to make sure that composers would get paid from this new technology called the pianola, or player piano.

Nowhere and nobody in more than 100 years has been able to actually change the copyright. Instead every new technological development has been shoehorned into this mechanical right. At the very least, it should now be an electronic, or digital, right. Some moves are being made towards the establishment of digital rights, but what’s clear is that copyright will always lag technology.

Besides, whenever a new technology pops up – be it audio streaming, video streaming, creator tools, etc. – whoever is charge doesn’t do any deals surrounding copyright. Then, when a new company gets a big user base, the first ones to come calling are the major record labels. They represent the recording artists, not the songwriters or the composers. Hence, the first deals bring the money towards those labels, and officially to their roster of artists.

There’s another reason songwriters and composers are being left behind by recorded music in the flows of money. Record labels tend to invest in start-ups while publishers do not. Take Spotify, all three major labels invested in the early phases of the company. Hence, when they went public in 2018 they all stood to make quite the windfall. Of course, they all promised to share these profits with their sub labels and artists. But look at Sony Music, who was the first major to sell part of their stake in Spotify. They earned roughly $750 million from selling 50% of their share in Spotify. Not long after, Sony took a 60% share of EMI Music Publishing, valuing the company at $4.75 billion. EMI, at the time, held a catalogue of around 2 million songs. The full value of the company was solely based on the songwriters it represented. And Sony’s increasing profits also came from a streaming economy that flourished on the back of those same songwriters. And yet, those songwriters didn’t see any direct returns on these deals.

So what’s next in the paradigm shift?

So far, we’ve learned that even a forward-thinking partnership like Chance the Rapper and Pat the Manager still held its roots in old-school handshake deals. And we all know that the current streaming boom isn’t the best in terms of generating revenue for the average musician. Moreover, as catalogue music grows in stature, where does this leave new music? Or, what does a shift away from albums, and even singles, towards creation and personality mean for those flows of money?

I’ve written previously how it’s important that we have new entities and start-ups fighting to make sure that we don’t end up with unassigned royalties. In contrast, I’ve also written about how Web3 envisions a world without copyright. In that piece, I ended with a note on how that vision is still potentially decades away (there’s a great article by Dan Fowler [paywall] for Water and Music that also goes into this). In the meantime, we do well to heed Bas’ call to provide a social context to the current NFT phase of Web3 development.

So what’s next? Riding the waves as they come and experimenting with these new modes of growth. Make sure to focus on good growth, growth that enhances your ideals and the music involved. Instead of looking for a manager, experiment with a DAO structure. Instead of sharing 15% or giving away your copyright to a label or publisher, see how you can share, or fractionalize, ownership. One thing to learn from the artist-manager relationship is that to grow together a complete alignment of interests is necessary. That still counts in Web3 modes of working together: any upside is created together, whether it’s creative or monetary. Music’s paradigm shift is communal.

Artificial scarcity isn’t bad and it’s not just a jpeg (on NFTs)

This piece addresses two common questions and critiques about NFTs:

  • “It’s just a jpeg everyone can see, so anyone paying for it is [delusional / getting scammed / etc].”
  • “The internet’s supposed to be about abundance – why are we creating unnecessary artificial scarcity and financializing everything?”

Given music’s history with ubiquity, including the economic effects of the sudden shift from paid to free post-piracy, I think these are two excellent critiques to explore the value of NFTs in general and for music specifically.

Participation

One of my own, biggest critiques of what happened to music in the 20th century is that music’s default shifted from communal to individual, from participative to consumerist, from folk to personalized. This happened through the proliferation of the recording and record players to every house, then every room of the house and eventually everyone’s pocket until even the music played from streaming services would be atomized to personalized playlists that fit an individual’s taste exactly.

This had great economic consequences for the recording industry, which eventually dwarfed other parts of the music industry like publishers. It also created a framework through which corporations own and govern the majority of contemporary culture. If you think about folk songs as songs that an entire population knows, or just subsets thereof, then pop music has essentially replaced folk. Folk music was communally owned and iterative. Pop music is, typically, corporate-owned and there will be 1 official version: everything else is ‘derivative’, less authentic, less ‘real’, than the ‘original’. In that sense, Seven Nation Army could be considered a folk song, especially in countries where it’s a common chant in football (‘soccer’ 🇺🇸) stadiums.

Don’t get me wrong: I think many of these aspects brought great attributes to music too, but it’s important to consider which other attributes, like the ones mentioned above, got deemphasised and moved into the background of our default music experience.

Back to artificial scarcity and abundance.

The time we live in is amazing. We have so much of humanity’s knowledge and cultural expression at our fingertips. We have simple, digital tools at our disposal that allow us to express ourselves through any modern type of media: image, sound, video, augmented reality (think TikTok, Snapchat, and Instagram when it’s not down). After being locked out of participative culture because of decades of a creator / consumer divide, we may soon see a billion music creators. So why be so excited about something that introduces scarcity?

Open scarcity

The exciting thing about NFTs is that you can let everyone access the media, yet assign the ownership of the NFT that represents the media to one person. This is not that dissimilar from video games: your friend may have unlocked a certain skin that is purely cosmetic and does not affect gameplay. You can enjoy this skin while you play with your friend: even if they’re the ones who paid for it.

NFTs can be used in similar dynamics. Sometimes they’re used as vehicles for crowdfunding. They can bring media (or culture) into existence that wouldn’t exist otherwise. One patron, one NFT. And a jpeg or mp3 for millions to enjoy.

MP3s, for a long time, held a real price of $0. Most people would download them and wouldn’t pay for it. Streaming, unfortunately for many artists, hasn’t helped them to attain a significant income. This may be due to a number of factors, but the fact is that for a long time music has been a game with just one mode to play it. If you don’t fit that mode well, it’s going to be hard and the factors are often outside of musicians’ control. The major exception I can think of is the period before recorded music revenues bounced back to pre-piracy days, which kind of forced people to get creative. Besides contemporary streaming giants, two of the more popular crowdfunding platforms were born in this period: Kickstarter (2009) and Patreon (2013).

Graph: IFPI Global Music Report 2021

If we use the phrase ‘NFT’ to mean works of art (music, visual, both) then NFTs create an amazing situation where content no longer needs to be locked behind a paywall on a platform like Patreon. Instead, the proliferation of the media associated with the NFT, for example a song, will increase the value of the NFT. This also impacts the perceived value of future NFT drops.

Ownership is exclusive, but the media is abundant. It’s open scarcity.

But why pay if it’s free anyway?

There are many motivations why people pay for NFTs. Some people are purely speculating, but I don’t think that’s the important part of the story. Some are collectors. A web2 example I can think of is Bandcamp: for some releases you can get the free download, but if you pay $0.50 it also shows up in your collection. I love building my collection on Bandcamp, so I’ll pay for the free jpeg and mp3 to be there.

Most importantly, NFTs are decentralized social media. They are objects that exist in a social context. This social context is powered by the blockchain on which the NFTs sit, plus any social media an NFT holder might use. In this context, possessing an NFT holds meaning to the owner, because it can signify social value, taste, distinction, membership, or identity, just like people’s clothing or virtual skins in video games. All of that is portable to any social context they move to.

It’s that social aspect that gives these objects value and in many cases the social value would be greatly diminished it the object was not freely accessible for all to see.

Financializing all the things…

Finally, a conclusion I’ve drawn for myself. I sympathise a lot with the critique that the web3 is financializing everything. Should all these things have a price tag or should the price tag be secondary? Certainly, in this wave of the web3, the price tag has often been the story, but I don’t think it’s the whole story (although to some writers it is).

The real story is that value can be tracked and it can be made transparent. People who create value can participate in it. All these interactions we have with each other online, all this culture we’re accessing: it’s already financialized. The companies that host our conversations, our art, our expression, they have shareholders, they sell ads. The difference with the web3 is that 1) we don’t know what interactions are worth, and 2) we don’t participate in the value they create.

That’s different now.

From here we have options. We can choose to express things in tokens or cryptocurrency. We can choose not to. We can choose to distribute equally to all participants or reward those who contribute more. We can choose governance models where it’s one person, one vote, or where people can vote based on their stake (e.g. number of tokens held). We can choose the game we play – this has not happened since that 2009 to 2013 period that spawned so many of the current status quo.

These systems are in our hands now. There’s no one-size fits all platform. Instead we’re stringing the tools together to create brand new configurations to design communities the way we see fit. Different subcultures will emerge in the space. They already have. For example, Zora is a radically different NFT marketplace (and more) from Crypto.com. Just compare their positioning: “THEY THOUGHT THEY COULD OWN US” versus “The World’s Fastest Growing Crypto App”.

Auctioned digital cultural objects, as NFTs, have an important role to play in online culture in the next ten years. Music piracy paved the way for streaming. Streaming paved the way for microgenres on SoundCloud to playlist edits on Spotify to the meme-like behaviour of music on TikTok.

Now a web3 layer is going to start providing a new context. Let’s add social context to those mp3s and jpegs.

One billion music creators: what does that look like?

Making a tune is now as easy as taking a photo and uploading it to Instagram. With its 1 billion monthly active users, Instagram has made photographers out of all us. As phone cameras improved, the Instagram filters did the rest. Music has spent most of this century battling the ghosts of piracy. The major labels first reinvented themselves as licensing models, using the IP in their catalogues to generate revenues that has propelled them back to pre-Napster times. More recently, everybody in the industry has become a digital media company: Warner invests heavily in gaming, musicians like Rihanna and Jay Z build out their brands far beyond music, and every indie artist has to navigate the digital world from social media to direct-to-fan strategies. Alongside these developments music creator tools proliferate. From Myspace to Soundcloud and now TikTok, sharing and discovering music has undergone changes in relation to the underlying medium. Each new medium led to new structures in pop music. Now, the next step is that everyone can become a music creator and it won’t be long before we see a medium where we consume music as readily as we adapted our thumbs to scroll through miles of photographic content each year.

Creator tools

In November 2020 MIDiA Research already claimed that creator tools were the present of the music industry. They showed that there were 14.6 million music creators using apps and platforms like YouTube and Soundcloud, but also Vampr, Bandlab, Loopcloud, Splice, Boomy, and many more.

These tools range from a focus on distribution to collaboration and various stages of production like loops, mastering, and effect. If you look to collaborate in real time, you can. If you want to easily get your track mastered there’s no need to go to a studio. If you need a specific sound, there’s now any number of sample libraries you can turn to.

That number of 14.6 million calculated by MIDiA is sure to have grown in the past year. Similar to the number of tracks released on the streaming services, roughly 60,000 per day back in February, which will also keep increasing. If you look at an app like Bandlab, you see the potential wave of content generated through creator tools: users create 11 million tracks each month. That’s the total number of tracks released to streaming services over a period of 6 months. In other words, not all of those tracks are released. As these numbers continue to grow, the music industry will need to change to adapt.

How to stand out from the crowd? Or should you even aspire to it?

It’s already difficult to make sure you get your new track heard when you are one of 60,000. If you are an indie you may never get the chance to make it onto those New Music Friday playlists. A study released earlier this year shows how “independent label artists are getting far less than their fair share of access to the most popular playlists.” This kind of issue underlines the current power structures in music. But if we transpose the number of tracks currently released on Bandlab in a month to the DSP format, it could well be that that whole system would simply break down. Moreover, if we take the step to consider a billion music creators using an app like Bandlab each month the volume of created music would be close to unimaginable.

In a way, this is happening already. TikTok has more than one billion video views each day, and most of those include music. Snap, through it’s acquisition of Voisey, now has millions of users creating tracks each day to add to their snaps. And yet, there’s no dedicated medium for music yet that has attracted these one billion MAUs. Once we get there, though, it won’t be about standing out from the crowd of recorded music anymore. Instead, each creator will be subject to the same things anyone on a current social media-platform is: algorithms and community. It’s in the latter that we may see a different effect of music growing to the size of photography.

Since music is inherently collaborative, it means that all those creator tools also have these features built into them. Some of them in a very direct way, such as Vampr, others more indirectly, like Splice. But any medium looking to tap into people’s deep-seated desires for making music will have to build to cater to niches. As content will get churned out at an ever greater number people will find each other in shared loves of musical nooks and crannies and find ways to express their identities in relation to that.

Existential fright

Going back to the comparison with Instagram and photography we can use the development of commentary on the medium and digital photography more broadly to sketch responses to a billion music creators. 10 years ago the journalist and artist Chris Wiley wrote that:

“It is indisputable that we now inhabit a world thoroughly mediatized by and glutted with the photographic image and its digital doppelganger. Everything and everyone on earth and beyond, it would seem, has been slotted somewhere in a rapacious, ever-expanding Borgesian library of representation that we have built for ourselves. As a result, the possibility of making a photograph that can stake a claim to originality or affect has been radically called into question.”

So, in a way we’re moving into a world that’s thoroughly mediatized by the sonic in the form of melodies, beats, hooks. Some of these put together by people calling themselves artists, others by people who quickly threw together a few loops. The former might be looking to make a living from their art. The latter might just be enjoying themselves and have no ambition to share their creations beyond a few friends and like-minded people. The question of originality remains pertinent.

That question, however, isn’t new to this situation. Pop music simply doesn’t exist beyond a limited number of chords. And we’ve seen it before, of course. The advent of radio was thought to kill live music consumption – it didn’t. TV was then the death of radio – instead radio revenues increased. The music video would then kill the radio star – radio revenues increased again. The internet doomed the recorded music industry – and piracy had a serious impact, but revenues are now back to where they were 20 years ago. With each new medium, each new iteration of distribution, musicians kept creating and finding audiences.

Final note

Just as smart-phone cameras and Instagram filters have influenced a generation of photographers, so will the current boom of creator tools shape the sound of music for the next decade or so. It’s simply not necessary anymore to have any musical training in order to create music. Apps like Boomy allow everyone to play around intuitively and create sounds that feel like music. Similarly, Bandlab has a loop feature that allows anyone to create something with a pleasant enough melody. Should that lead to existential questions about what music is? Probably not. Instead, we would do well to focus on new niches popping up around shared interests in certain stems, riffs, drum rolls, etc. We may look at and listen to music differently if everyone can make it, but we won’t enjoy it less.