Before the internet really exploded around 2000, our access to music was limited.
It began at the record label level. Without a deal, getting distribution of your music was nearly impossible. Even if you did, your music was run through other filters: radio, music video channels, record stores and music magazines. The entire time, you competed with all the other new songs out there, along with older established favourites.
Getting the public’s attention was hard. Getting them to part with their limited disposable income to buy your music was even harder.
But because the initial supply was small and the winnowing process so stringent, rewards awaited the lucky few who came out the other side of the star-making machinery system. We lived in a monoculture, driven largely by radio airplay. In those days, we had a general idea of what everyone else was listening to. Music fans were connected by a common music vocabulary and a need to know that there were others with similar musical tastes. And because the biggest songs were so ubiquitous, we couldn’t help but learn the lyrics to even songs we hated.
To be a mainstream artist was to be BIG: Michael Jackson-Madonna-AC/DC-Eagles big. You could stop any stranger on the street to name three songs by any of those artists and get three correct answers.
Today, though, we all live in our separate, individual and highly personal musical bubbles, and we like it a lot. It’s so empowering to have our own little special niche that’s tailored for us. Thanks to streaming, there’s no more “mainstream” music fan. We’re all unique, each with an opinion on what music is “good.”
Even with someone as big as Taylor Swift, her songs haven’t achieved the kind of ubiquity we used to see before 2000. If you want to test that, ask a random stranger to name three Tay-Tay songs. Unless you choose a Swiftie, that person will probably struggle. I work in the music industry with all sorts of music 24-7-365 and I have trouble.
Another example: What was the song of the summer of 2025? What song was in everyone’s heads over June, July and August? For the first time in years, there was no clear winner. This underscores the fact that we’ve moved beyond big artists having big hits for the masses. Today’s hits are far smaller than those of the past because the same number of people can no longer come to a consensus on what we should all be listening to. That shared experience over a song/artist is nowhere near what it used to be.
Radio, as popular as it still is, is no longer as dominant as it once was when it comes to getting the word out on a song or artist. The music video channels have disappeared. When was the last time you bought a physical music magazine? And how many regular people make regular visits to record stores because there’s that hot new release everyone says they must have? Instead, we have streaming algorithms that automatically and constantly offer an endless parade of songs that they think we, as an individual music fan, might like. There’s no “everyone” anymore. It’s just “me.”
The music industry is struggling to redefine “mass appeal.” And it’s more than just radio airplay, streaming numbers and record sales. In today’s music business, you can have a hit outside the realm of what used to be defined as mainstream. In fact, you’ll be surprised to learn how big an act can be serving just their community.
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Take My Chemical Romance, for example. When they announced their reunion tour, I was surprised that they’d been booked to play stadiums. Stadiums? For an emo band that had broken up for years and whose reunion was sidelined by COVID-19? Yet in one 30-day period this past summer, they averaged 42,797 people per show, a sellout rate of 100 per cent Surprised? I was.
Then there are the Lumineers, the Ho Hey band that became a Family Guy meme. During the same 3o-day period, they performed seven sold-out arena shows, averaging 18,430 tickets per gig, resulting in an average box office gross of nearly US$2 million per show.
Here are some other recent numbers via Pollstar, the bible of the touring music industry. Are any of these “mainstream” artists in the old sense of the definition?
- ENHYPHEN: eight shows at 98 per cent sold, average of 20,329 tickets per gig, average gross of US$2.9 million.
- Rüfüs Du Sol: nine shows at 96 per cent sold, average of 18,197 tickets per gig, average gross of US$1.65 million.
- Phil Wickman/Brandon Lake: six shows at 100 per cent sold, average of 15,733 tickets per gig, average gross of US$889,512.
- Anuel AA: eight shows at 85 per cent sold, average of 13,794 tickets per gig, average gross of US$1.2 million.
Even Creed, one of the most ridiculed bands of the last quarter-century, is selling out shows with an average attendance of 11,000 people. That’s close to a million bucks a night.
To be clear, none of what I’m saying is the screed of an old man pining for the old days. I’m merely pointing out the difference between how the music world used to be and what it’s become.
While the major labels still haven’t figured out how to deal with this new world, indie labels have more of a chance. Songs and artists bubble up online through streamers and social media and end up finding their audience, person by person. Eventually, there are enough of them to band together into a community for that artist, communities that, while large, are largely invisible to everyone else.
Another paradigm is to create a superfan constituency. If you can convince just 3,000 people to pay you $10 a month for all kinds of exclusive access and special privileges, that’s $360,000 a year. Not bad.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to listen to the new Jehnny Beth album, You Heartbreaker You. It’s excellent. Everyone’s listening to it–or at least should be.
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