Let’s stop pretending.
The music industry didn’t “evolve.”
It was hijacked.
The same DJs and producers who rose in the 90s and early 2000s—once rebels, once innovators—are now the very parasites they claimed to fight against. They didn’t just age out of creativity; they locked the doors behind them.
And they’ve been milking the corpse of their own legacy ever since.
From Innovators to Hoarders
These artists didn’t just make music. They made intellectual property. And once they realised nostalgia pays better than risk, the game was over.
Why fund new talent when you can resell the same track for 30 years?
Why break new artists when you can parade the same “legend” across festivals like a museum exhibit?
The industry isn’t run by visionaries anymore.
It’s run by copyright landlords.
The Remix Scam Nobody Talks About
Let’s call it what it is: legalised exploitation.
Young producers are pushed to remix “classic” tracks, often under the illusion of opportunity. They’re told it’s exposure. A blessing. A career moment.
In reality:
The original artist keeps ownership The label keeps control The newcomer keeps crumbs
The remix does well? Great—royalties flow upward.
The remix fails? Too bad—your name disappears.
This isn’t collaboration.
It’s creative sharecropping.
New artists are farming old fields they will never own.
Festivals Are Nostalgia Farms
Look at the line-ups.
Same names.
Same fonts.
Same “exclusive comeback” narratives every summer.
Festivals are no longer about discovery—they’re about risk management. Promoters book safe bets because the legends demand top billing, top fees, and eternal relevance.
New talent gets the 2pm slot.
No crowd. No coverage. No future.
The crowd is trained to cheer memories instead of music.
Talent Didn’t Disappear—It Was Suffocated
People love to say, “Music isn’t as good anymore.”
That’s a lie.
Great producers are everywhere—bedrooms, laptops, basements, online communities. But they are buried under algorithms that favour familiarity and contracts designed to protect old money.
Originality is now a threat to the business model.
If your sound can’t be tied to an existing catalogue, it’s considered useless.
That’s not an industry.
That’s a mafia protecting territory.
The Ultimate Irony
The most embarrassing truth?
Many of these so-called legends built their careers by sampling, borrowing, and breaking rules. They thrived in chaos.
Now they enforce rules they never played by.
They scream “respect the culture” while suing new artists.
They preach authenticity while recycling the same breakdowns from 1998.
They call themselves pioneers while standing on the necks of the next generation.
This Is Why the Industry Feels Dead
Music feels stale because it is controlled by people who are terrified of becoming irrelevant.
So they weaponise nostalgia.
They monetise memory.
They rewrite history to centre themselves forever.
The industry isn’t collapsing from lack of talent.
It’s collapsing from unchecked greed.
The Future Won’t Ask for Permission
Here’s the part they don’t understand:
You can delay change, but you can’t own the future.
Eventually, artists will bypass labels.
Bypass festivals.
Bypass gatekeepers.
And when that happens, the same people clinging to their past will be remembered not as legends—but as the ones who killed the scene they claimed to love.
Because culture doesn’t die from evolution.
It dies when the old refuse to let go.
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