AI Music, Entitlement, and an Industry That Needs to Remember Its Heart
- Mickey Miller
- Jul 11
- 7 min read
For as long as I’ve been involved in music, I’ve believed one simple thing:
Music changes lives.
That’s why I’ve spent years supporting independent artists through ODP, Troutzillafest, blogs, podcasts, interviews, and DIY shows. Not because it was profitable—it rarely was. Not because it was easy—it never was.
I did it because I love music.
I love working with artists.
I love watching fans discover a band that leaves them speechless.
There is something magical about standing in a crowd when a song reaches someone exactly when they need it. Watching strangers become friends over a shared love of music. Seeing an artist step off stage to hear a fan say, “Your music helped me through one of the hardest times in my life.”
You can’t put a price tag on moments like that.
That’s what music is supposed to be about.
Lately, though, I’ve found myself thinking more and more about where our industry is headed.
Artificial intelligence can now write songs, imitate voices, generate lyrics, create album artwork, and produce music in minutes. Like any technology, AI can be an incredible creative tool when it’s used to assist artists. But when it starts replacing human creativity instead of supporting it, we risk losing something that can never be programmed.
Music isn’t just sound.
It’s heartbreak.
It’s hope.
It’s grief.
It’s joy.
It’s every scar, every lesson, every triumph, and every setback that an artist pours into a song.
An algorithm can imitate emotion.
It can’t live it.
At the same time, I don’t believe AI is the biggest challenge our industry faces.
I believe one of the biggest challenges is entitlement.
Some musicians believe they’re owed opportunities because they released a few songs. Others think they deserve to headline before they’ve built an audience. Some expect to be treated as though they’ve earned the same recognition as artists who’ve spent decades touring, writing, practicing, networking, and sacrificing to build a career.
Here’s the truth.
No one is owed success.
Every artist starts somewhere.
The musicians who have been grinding for twenty or thirty years didn’t wake up one morning with loyal fans. They earned them one show at a time. One conversation at a time. One song at a time.
That journey deserves respect.
And respect shouldn’t stop there.
Every musician deserves respect.
Whether you’re an independent artist playing your first local show or someone fortunate enough to sign with a record label, you’ve chosen a path that requires courage, dedication, and sacrifice. Signing a record deal doesn’t erase the years of work it often took to get there, just as remaining independent doesn’t make someone’s music any less meaningful.
This industry doesn’t need more division.
It needs more respect.
Artists should celebrate one another instead of competing over who is more deserving.
One artist’s success doesn’t take away from another’s.
If anything, it reminds us that dreams are still possible.
There’s another lesson I’ve learned over the years.
Music is subjective.
One person’s favorite band might be another person’s least favorite.
That’s okay.
Not every artist is meant to connect with every listener.
Just because you don’t enjoy a particular band doesn’t mean they’re untalented.
Just because another artist fills bigger venues doesn’t automatically make them “better.”
Music isn’t a math equation.
It’s personal.
The songs that save one person’s life might not mean anything to someone else.
That’s the beauty of music.
There’s room for all of it.
I’ve seen technically incredible musicians play to small crowds.
I’ve seen simple three-chord bands fill rooms because people connected with their honesty.
Neither is wrong.
Connection has always mattered more than perfection.
Social media has made things even harder.
We’ve become obsessed with follower counts, monthly listeners, viral videos, and algorithms. Too often, artists are judged by numbers instead of the impact they’re making.
We’ve forgotten that behind every stream is a person.
Behind every concert ticket is a fan who chose to spend their hard-earned money on an experience.
Behind every local show are promoters risking their own finances, volunteers giving up their time, venues fighting to keep their doors open, and artists hoping that what they create means something to someone.
I know that because I’ve lived it.
I didn’t get involved in DIY shows because I thought I’d get rich.
I never did.
I got involved because I love seeing a packed room singing every word back to a band.
I love watching fans meet artists they’ve admired for years.
I love watching a local band gain new fans because someone took a chance on them.
I love the friendships that music creates.
It has never been about money.
It has always been about people.
That’s also why I believe if the only reason you’re making music is because you hope to become famous or make a living from it, you’ve lost sight of what matters most.
Don’t misunderstand me.
Every musician deserves the opportunity to make a living doing what they love.
I hope every artist reaches that point.
But if money becomes the reason you create instead of the result of creating something meaningful, you’ve forgotten why music exists in the first place.
Play because you love it.
Write because you have something to say.
Create because you can’t imagine not creating.
And if one song helps someone through depression…
If one lyric gives someone hope…
If one performance makes someone smile after the hardest week of their life…
You’ve already accomplished something extraordinary.
Not every success can be measured in dollars or streaming numbers.
Sometimes success is changing one person’s life.
To every musician, whether you’re playing your first show in a small local venue or selling out arenas around the world, never forget where you came from.
Every one of you started somewhere.
Some of you worked full-time jobs just to afford gas money, strings, drumsticks, or a motel room after a show. You loaded your own gear, played for handfuls of people, and kept chasing the dream because you believed in your music.
Some of you were fortunate enough to eventually sign with a label after years of grinding it out. Others have remained proudly independent, building careers one fan at a time.
I’m not talking about the rare artists who had financial advantages that allowed them to skip many of those struggles. I’m talking about the musicians who earned every opportunity through persistence, sacrifice, and countless miles on the road.
Never forget those days.
And to the artists who have reached the bigger stages, I want to ask you something.
Do you remember the first established band that gave you a chance?
The promoter who believed in you?
The venue owner who took a risk?
The artist who invited you to open before a larger crowd?
Someone opened a door for you.
What if more of today’s successful artists did the same?
Imagine how many incredible musicians could be discovered if more established bands made room for emerging artists instead of treating every opening slot as another revenue stream.
Helping another artist isn’t a weakness.
It isn’t charity.
It’s investing in the future of music.
And that message isn’t only for bands.
It’s for managers.
It’s for booking agents.
It’s for promoters.
It’s for venues.
It’s for everyone who has the ability to create opportunities.
One practice that especially troubles me is pay-to-play.
While every situation is different and legitimate production costs exist, too often artists are expected to pay simply for the privilege of opening a show. That shifts the financial risk onto musicians who are already struggling to afford instruments, fuel, lodging, recording, and promotion.
The next great artist shouldn’t be determined by who can write the biggest check.
They should be discovered because they earned the opportunity through hard work, dedication, and the ability to connect with an audience.
If you’ve made it…
Reach back.
Open a door.
Offer advice.
Recommend an independent band.
Invite someone to open a show.
Be the opportunity that someone else once was for you.
Because that’s how music grows.
Not through ego.
Not through entitlement.
But through artists believing in other artists.
There are also reasons to be hopeful.
I’m encouraged to see the music industry working toward greater transparency around AI-generated music. I support efforts to clearly identify music that has been created or significantly altered using artificial intelligence so listeners can make informed choices. Human creativity deserves to be recognized, and transparency benefits artists and fans alike.
I’m also grateful for organizations like the National Independent Venue Association (NIVA), which continues to advocate for independent venues and work toward a fairer music ecosystem, including addressing issues that affect competition in live music. Independent venues are where countless artists find their footing, build loyal audiences, and learn their craft. Without them, the next generation of musicians loses some of its most important stages.
The future of music shouldn’t belong only to the biggest corporations, the most advanced technology, or the loudest voices online.
It should belong to passionate artists.
Independent venues.
Dedicated promoters.
Hardworking crews.
Loyal fans.
And everyone who believes music still has the power to bring people together.
At the end of the day, we’re all here because music made us feel something.
Let’s never lose sight of that.
Respect the artists.
Respect the venues.
Respect the promoters.
Respect the managers.
Respect the crews.
Respect the fans.
Respect the journey.
Because music isn’t a ladder where one artist climbs by stepping on another.
It’s a community.
And communities become stronger when we lift each other up instead of tearing each other down.
Long after the trends fade…
Long after the algorithms change…
Long after today’s headlines are forgotten…
One thing will always remain true:
The songs that matter most will never come from entitlement, or AI. They will come from passion, perseverance, and the human heart.
Peace, Love and Loud Music,
Mickey
Some memories!
This is what a show is about!
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