thank u streaming, next

"Streaming saved the music industry." Like any pithy oversimplification, there's some truth to that statement. Yes, streaming brought the world’s music to our fingertips, democratizing access in ways once unimaginable. For the first time, anyone with an internet connection could legally listen to almost any song ever recorded for nine bucks a month.

But every innovation has its limits. Streaming has had a remarkable run, going from disruptor to kingpin. But, wow, I don't envy Daniel Ek. His legacy is defined by the rise of streaming fraud, the cultural devaluation of recorded music, and the gnarly reshaping of music composition to pander to an algorithm, among other side-effects of the model he invented.

It's hard to imagine that streaming represents the pinnacle of music distribution. Can it truly be the final step in the evolution of recorded sound that began in 1877 and has metamorphosed every 20 to 30 years since? It's even harder to see what comes next. But like a growing number of people in the industry, I feel it’s time to seriously wrestle with that question. To say out loud what we've been thinking: thank u streaming, next.

Here's what streaming got right: it did exactly what it promised by making recorded music accessible. Gone are the days of scrimping and saving for CDs or hoping a rare album might show up in a local record store. For listeners, it opened a vast library of music, from Top 40 hits to obscure indie releases, all available on demand. Sure, Spotify, Apple Music, Tidal et al. created and popularized playlist culture. Sure, when we look back on it, it might all seem very 2010s—big data, infinite genres, everything on-demand, one monthly fee—because it was.

And about that monthly fee. The music-streaming economic model has always been a challenge. With payouts based on total streams rather than direct fan purchases, the revenue generated often felt disconnected from the value of the work. For many artists, especially those outside the top tiers, the earnings from streaming have not kept pace with the costs of creating music (that's the nice way of saying, "most artists get nothing".)

Plus, the reliance on algorithms to deliver personalized recommendations has shaped not only how we listen to music, but how music itself is made. Songs are now often optimized to grab attention within seconds to avoid being skipped which is understandable (we all adapt to our surroundings) but it does constrain experimentation and create a gravitational pull toward the middle of the road.

There’s also the issue of ownership. Streaming made music more accessible than ever, but it also redefined the relationship between listeners and their collections. Music libraries, once physical and tangible, became playlists and streams. While this shift made sharing music seamless (and infinitely more portable; vinyl collectors I'm looking at you), it also removed the sense of pride and connection that comes with truly owning something unique.

As streaming reaches a natural plateau, the music world needs to imagine what comes after. For a business full of creative people, the music industry has a reputation for inertia. That said, one idea gaining traction is digital collectability, a model that combines the accessibility of digital music with the emotional connection of ownership.

Imagine a world where songs exist not as static files but as "magic masters", recordings that generate unique renditions for each listener. This brings the joy of discovery back into music. Instead of pressing play on a track identical to millions of others, listeners could explore one-of-a-kind versions, each with subtle variations that make the experience personal.

For artists, this could open up new revenue streams by creating scarcity and value without sacrificing accessibility. A single recording could generate endless unique renditions, offering fans something truly special while requiring only one session in the studio. ever.fm and Bronze AI are two companies building the tools to enable just that. This approach also encourages deeper engagement between listeners and the music, fostering a sense of connection that has been harder to achieve in the streaming era.

What excites me about this potential future is the opportunity to combine the best of both worlds: the accessibility of streaming and the pride of ownership that has been missing in the digital age. Music could once again become something to cherish, explore, and share, rather than just another form of background noise in an algorithm-driven playlist.

This isn’t a rejection of streaming, it’s an evolution. The contributions streaming made to the music world are undeniable, and its role in democratizing access cannot be overstated. But like every transformative innovation, it won't last forever in the forefront. The next chapter is about building on what worked while addressing what didn’t, creating a system that values music as both art and experience.

So thank you, streaming, for everything you've shown us us. You changed the game, and for that, we’ll always be grateful. But as the music world looks ahead, it’s clear that something new is ready to take the stage.

The post-streaming era promises to restore what was lost and offer something even better. It’s a future where music is not just consumed, but cherished; where discovery is an adventure, not a playlist; and where every listener can own a piece of the magic.

Thank u streaming, next.