As 2025 begins, the music world stands on shifting ground. Depending on whom you ask, the business is either booming—riding high on record-breaking streaming numbers and vinyl’s unlikely renaissance—or facing greater challenges than ever, squeezed by big tech and battered by an unending tide of new releases. In an industry where truth and myth often intertwine like the grooves on a vinyl LP, one thing is certain: the last few years have changed the shape of recorded music for good.
Let’s start with the numbers. Across major markets—especially in the US and the UK—streaming remains the single largest driver of recorded music revenues. According to the British Phonographic Industry (BPI), audio streams doubled over the past six years, topping 200 billion in the UK alone in 2024. In the US, streaming’s share of total music consumption is approaching 90 percent. Spotify, Apple Music, Amazon, and similar platforms continue to grow, with Spotify reporting a notable surge in both subscriber numbers and stock price last year—even as it downsized staff and scaled back big-budget podcast investments.
Ironically, the oldest physical format is thriving too. Vinyl LPs recorded their seventeenth consecutive year of growth in the UK, propelling physical music sales upward for the first time in two decades. In the US, vinyl is expected to surpass the billion-dollar mark by year’s end. Yes, nostalgia plays a role, but “collectors’ culture” has evolved: limited pressings of classic albums now sit alongside brand-new chart releases by Taylor Swift, Charli XCX, and even Oasis’s reunion album. For labels once terrified that digital distribution would swallow physical sales entirely, vinyl’s renaissance has become a valuable revenue supplement.
The era of one band or artist monopolizing everyone’s stereo is long gone. Bob Lefsetz—music-industry provocateur and author of The Lefsetz Letter—describes the current climate as “completely fragmented,” akin to the explosion of niche offerings in streaming television. “We’re all listening to different music,” he quips, pointing out that charts and “hits” may have less cultural resonance now than ever before. Yes, Taylor Swift remains a juggernaut, but how many casual listeners can sing two of her newest songs?
This fragmentation arises from an almost limitless supply of music. Thousands of tracks drop every day, uploaded by bedroom artists straight to streaming platforms. On the plus side, this democratization removes gatekeepers and fosters innovation. On the downside, it can feel like sailing an ocean without a compass. While streaming algorithms claim to help us discover new artists, they often echo our existing preferences, steering us toward “bubble” playlists that rarely surprise.
Still, streaming’s ubiquity has nearly eradicated piracy. For those who do manage to attract a meaningful audience, streaming can be immensely profitable. If you have an undeniable hit, digital platforms can “rain down an incredible amount of money.” Yet the many artists with modest numbers see only a trickle—no different, from decades ago when not everyone secured a record deal or airplay.
Beyond streaming, social platforms have emerged as critical launchpads. In the late 2010s and early 2020s, TikTok famously drove breakout hits for both rising stars and established acts. By analyzing short-video engagement, major labels gleaned powerful data on which hooks resonated most. However, that wave, while still significant, has begun to scatter. Labels realized that a brief viral moment on TikTok doesn’t always convert to steady Spotify or Apple Music streams. Building a loyal fan base often demands persistent real-world hustle.
Meanwhile, Instagram Reels, YouTube Shorts, and emerging social networks offer diverse ways for musicians to capture attention. Song teasers, behind-the-scenes studio clips, and viral dance challenges have become standard promotional tools. Yet no single platform dominates. Many artists still rely heavily on word of mouth, cultivating tight-knit fan relationships via Discord servers or Substack newsletters. It’s the digital equivalent of an old-school local scene—only now the “local” is global.
Legacy record companies remain formidable primarily because they own vast catalogs. In a digital era, classic hits stand shoulder-to-shoulder with the newest singles—no shelf-space limits, no distribution costs. The profit margin on these evergreen songs is enormous, creating the financial cushion that lets major labels invest in emerging talents.
But the majors face real threats. Independent acts increasingly bypass them, turning instead to smaller distributors or self-releasing online. According to recent data, indie market share has surpassed 35 percent worldwide—though major labels still distribute a significant portion of that slice. Some fear that big tech or private-equity firms might eventually buy up these catalogs and eliminate new artist development altogether. Even so, storied catalogs featuring the likes of The Beatles, Bob Marley, and Nirvana remain the majors’ golden ticket, keeping them afloat in uncertain waters.
Artificial intelligence poses the biggest unknown. Executives worry that AI will generate “new” songs using the voices and production styles of well-known stars—leaving labels and artists to wonder who gets paid when a machine churns out a lost David Bowie track. Governments in the US and UK are wrestling with policy questions, such as whether creators must opt out of letting their catalogs be used for AI training.
While some artists fear losing control, others see AI collaborations as a new creative frontier. If the 2020s showed us anything, it’s that technology moves faster than legislation. Today’s real concern is ensuring that AI-generated compositions don’t cut out artists and labels from revenue streams. Smaller musicians might use AI to simplify production—automating marketing tasks or generating chord progressions—yet widespread adoption could spark new disputes over originality, sampling, and fair use.
Entry barriers are lower than ever, but competition is fierce. You can release a track worldwide in a single day—but there’s no guarantee it will find an audience. Social media platforms like TikTok and Instagram can propel your work or let it sink. Touring remains vital, but costs, festival saturation, and unpredictable marketing can limit newcomers.
The outlook is bumpy. Classic catalogs still fund the industry, yet indie growth, direct-artist deals, and new distribution models erode old certainties. Labels that skillfully analyze streaming data and sign the right talent still wield influence. But they walk a fine line: keep signing fresh acts or be overshadowed by your own back catalog.
For listeners, it’s paradise—and it’s overwhelming. From obscure 1960s African psych-rock to contemporary Mandopop, it’s all one click away. With so many choices, it’s easy to drift into passive loops or cling to nostalgia. The best remedy? Mindful curation. Trust critics and trusted curators. Swap playlists. Embrace random recommendations. In this age of near-limitless options, the thrill of discovery is half the fun.
Every corner of the music business is in flux, yet some old truths remain. Passionate fans and driven artists still connect, whether in local clubs or on global streaming platforms. The central question is whether the structures that once supported artist development and sprawling studio productions can adapt without losing the spark that makes music so thrilling.
Ultimately, if the music resonates, it will find its audience. Even amid fierce competition for entertainment dollars, a truly great song cuts through. Labels may consolidate, streaming services may pivot, and AI may loom large—but that timeless, goosebump moment is still the industry’s most reliable currency. In a world that’s both global and instant, the magic endures—whether it spins on vinyl or streams via the cloud.
