Is it just me, or did 2024 seem like the year that finally broke how many people viewed Spotify?
I know folks have been chanting for users to jump ship for years if not decades. But the convenience of streaming has also demolished many barriers for listeners to discover, follow, and hear their favorite artists. Imagining the mainstream music fan giving up their streaming service is like fighting the ocean: good luck.
Plus, I can relate to the average paid Spotify user. I had been one since 2011 when I first signed up as a high school senior. Sure, I bought records and merch and went to shows throughout that time, but Spotify Premium was a budget fixture for 13 straight years. That’s close to $1,800, which is staggering.
Yet, my breaking point with the company was inevitable. Now, I’m a free agent of sorts, searching for convenient alternatives to better support my favorite artists without devastating my finances. But what took so long to give up on Spotify — and what does accessible yet equitable music consumption even look like?
Why did Spotify break me down now?
It’s not like there was a shortage of criticism for the platform; a whole Wikipedia page is dedicated to the topic. Artists decried unfair compensation before I signed up as a naive student. By the time I hit college and graduated, what I knew was the noble thing to do was also financially inhibitive. Ultimately, inaction — like sticking around when Joe Rogan went Spotify-exclusive — begets more inaction. I bet there are plenty of users who can relate.
By the start of 2024, my relationship as a paid user reached a turning point. When 150 million+ songs stopped earning royalties, I defined what I needed from a potential streaming alternative. As Spotify raised prices for the second time in a year and CEO Daniel Ek became richer than any musician, I actively started searching for a way out.
I used the free Apple Music trial that my iPhone settings had been yelling about; it felt like more of the same, and “Ugh, I gotta do what to port my songs over?” Sheesh, had the convenience monster left me so vain? I contemplated trying TIDAL (to the same effect) and digging out my old buccaneer cosplay. Mainly, I bought vinyl and went to a few shows. But the problematic subscription continued.
Then the oft-beloved Spotify Wrapped went full-AI slopfest, and the Internet piled on to hate it. What’s worth noting is that Wrapped, which packages your listening data in a digestible made-to-go-viral form, was created by an intern without credit. It has primarily remained an intern-ran project to this day. Pair that with the desperation for businesses like Spotify to cram AI into every facet of their product, and it’s no surprise you get nonsense like this:
I don't think I can enjoy listening to music anymore
— Xenu (@prophetofxenu.bsky.social) December 8, 2024 at 8:47 AM
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When music obsession becomes untenable
Call me a hippie, but growing up with and being around music long enough makes me love it as a cultural force. One just as capable of bringing folks together as it is putting others down with hot takes and toxic opinions. Hell, the act of simply consuming music has been commodified and turned into a wholesale personality trait. [gazes intensely at the mirror and says, “Oh, hello, me.”] I actively try to cram as many albums and songs as possible into each waking minute, both for enjoyment and to share my listening habits with others in a cute little 5×5 grid.
At the same time, most of us are trained to seek the highest value at minimal cost. Society trains us to be wannabe proto-Ferengi, consuming the most we can at our own expense. I know I’m guilty. Spotify was my sole streaming service, from the student discount days to their “Spotify + Hulu” bundle. For years, I justified the cost because of the convenience and value I got from that subscription. I bought records I’ve streamed dozens of times, which, in hindsight, merely felt like offsetting my otherwise negative actions.
The common refrain of “there’s no ethical consumption under capitalism” came to mind whenever I thought about folks who claimed to care about artists making a living wage but never went to shows or bought merch. At least I did those things. Unfortunately, all this did was breed a sense of elitism and entitlement. Maybe you’ve experienced that. It’s foolish to think that wouldn’t be a significant barrier to supporting artists and local communities.
Starting this website was the final swaying point because it forced me to put my values out there. And when my favorite artists ask for their art to be consumed differently, who am I to ignore them?
How do we keep music accessible and equitable?
Cue the record scratch because it’s incredibly privileged for the takeaway of this piece to be “Stop using your streaming service, you monster.” Income inequality, not a lack of obsession or desire for artists to succeed, bars folks from supporting artists as easily as they used to.
Billboard analyzed RIAA data and found vinyl costs “rose 25.5% from 2017 to 2023, slightly more than the 24.3% increase in the consumer price index over the same time.” The ongoing trend of artists padding their tracklists to boost total streams often makes matters worse. Billboard also reported that “the top 10 albums’ average number of songs rose from 13.2 in 2014 to 19.1 in 2022.” Pressing that many songs to vinyl undoubtedly requires a double LP, expanding the total production costs and passing that along to the buyer.
Peeking over to the live performance side of artist support isn’t much more encouraging. Especially if you’re a fan of, I don’t know, any of the most popular artists in the world? The average ticket price of the top 100 music tours in 2023 was $122.84. In 2019 it was $91.86 — a 33.7% increase over four years — and in 2000 it was $40.74.
Buying tickets doesn’t consider other costs like parking or transportation, food and drinks, or even babysitting. All of that has gotten more expensive, so a high quality of those concert night outs aren’t as feasible for the “mainstream” audience.
We’re halfway through a section about keeping accessible and equitable, and I’ve done nothing to explain how. Fortunately, there are tried-and-true methods for supporting your favorite bands. I’ll elaborate on a few below, but all (and more) are included in this outstanding article from Drowned in Sound.
Seriously, go read that.
Buy as much music as you can: I mean that on a financial and square-footage basis. In an ideal world, it would be like an all-you-can-eat buffet with an empty stomach, but we’re not all rich and flush with real estate.
Instead, look through your local music store’s cheap records and CDs. Search for weird shit on Bandcamp. Use your library card to take out CDs and rip them because it’s 2025, and life is too short to not take risks. And if you don’t have a library card, start there.
Purchase merch with purpose: I always buy a shirt or record at concerts because I think the money goes right into a fund that keeps the tour running. That’s a fairy tale I made up to justify my purchase, but it’s compelling, right?
That said, don’t feel pressured to do the same. As a college grad working at a grocery store and living paycheck-to-paycheck, I’d often scoop up hoodies during seasonal or post-tour sales. One of my favorite shirts came from a $15 mystery box from Deathwish Records with a 7” EP, two CDs, and some stickers.
Being frugal doesn’t have to be a limit to your merch support, but it does require some creativity and sales-stalking.
Build connections and community: Everyone’s favorite band has likely started at the “sleep on someone’s floor” stage — so do your part (if you can). If you can’t literally house people, maybe you know folks who can. Maybe you can organize with mutual aid spaces for touring acts to sleep, shower, chill, etc.
Or be an unofficial street team member, promoting bands you love with flyers, bathroom stickers, and social media posts before they come to town. If you feel inclined, you could work with your local community radio station or contribute your work to a DIY publication. There is no “wrong” way to support your favorite acts.
What am I going to do now?
Right now, I’m considering using Apple Music to stream music since they pay marginally better royalties and keep less profit.
My current justification is that I want every listen to count for something, even when I’m not at a show or buying a record. That does mean I’m putting more money into Apple’s pocket, and how much better is that? The tug of the convenience leash on my neck is still there, no matter how far I claim to be from the value-centric decisions I lamented above.
But where it can’t get me is local shows. That’s been the most wonderful antidote to the shame and guilt of not feeling a good enough consumer. My goal for this year is at least 1 per month, ideally different bands each time.
At roughly $10-15 per show, that’s a low bar to get in, buy some merch, and have a good time. And isn’t that what we all want?
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