From the Inside Out: A Former Label Exec Talks Culture, Contracts, and the Cost of Success

"Nobody gets handed a seat at the table. You build your own chair, drag it in, and hope someone doesn’t pull it out from under you." That’s how Marlon Hayes, a former senior vice president at one of the big three music labels, describes his 20-year climb through the trenches of the music business. From college radio DJ to marketing assistant, to becoming a respected voice in urban A&R, Hayes’ career is marked by persistence and a deep respect for the culture that raised him.

Hayes didn’t start with industry connections or capital. He started with taste. Growing up in Chicago, he was the friend whose house everyone went to for mixtapes. His sense of what worked on a sonic and street level translated into college radio programming, and later into regional marketing gigs. “I knew how to make records matter where I was from,” he said. “And if it worked in Chicago, we could stretch it to St. Louis, Detroit, then out East.”

After years of grinding, a chance conversation with a visiting VP turned into a relocation offer and his first role in A&R. From there, it was long nights, studio runs, and political meetings in Midtown offices, all while trying to protect artists and shape visions that aligned with both the streets and the charts.

The Artist-Label Gap: Lost in Translation

Hayes said the biggest misconception artists have is about the word "deal." To most artists, he said, a deal means dreams realized—tour buses, hit records, fans. But to the label, it’s paperwork, recoupment, and risk management. “There’s a reason the paperwork doesn’t say 'partnership,'” he noted. “It’s not designed to be fair. It’s designed to protect the investment.”

That disconnect, he says, has only grown with the rise of social media and the independent boom. Many new artists expect labels to play the role of promoter, manager, and investor without understanding the cost breakdown or profit expectations. “You can’t walk into a loan office, get a quarter-million advance, and not know how interest works,” Hayes said. “That’s what’s happening though. And it’s hurting careers before they even start.”

He believes education—real industry literacy—is missing from most artist development conversations. “Artists are spending six hours a day on TikTok but haven’t spent one reading their contracts,” he added. Hayes said he pushed for internal programs during his tenure, trying to educate new signees during orientation. But most labels didn’t prioritize that kind of guidance.

Culture vs. Commerce: When the Two Collide

Hayes was candid about the internal battles between cultural integrity and business metrics. “A&R is the only department where you can have taste but still get fired because of timing,” he said. “You can sign the right artist, but if the moment don’t line up or the single doesn’t stream, you're gone.”

He described several instances where he fought to preserve an artist’s creative direction against the algorithm-driven preferences of marketing departments. “It’s like fighting Wall Street with soul,” he said. “You walk into these rooms full of spreadsheets and projections trying to explain why this one rapper matters to a generation. And they want proof in six-second clip engagement.”

Hayes emphasized that Black executives often feel this tension more acutely. “You’re expected to be the bridge between the street and the suite, but if the artist doesn’t cross over fast enough, they blame your instincts.” He recalled times when executives who didn’t understand the music—or the message—overrode his decisions in pursuit of trends that often fizzled within a quarter.

The Streaming Shift: Disruption Without Direction

Hayes didn’t mince words about how streaming has affected artist development. “Streaming made music more accessible, but it also made it disposable,” he said. “We went from building careers to chasing playlists.” He noted how the speed of music consumption now favors quick hits over long arcs.

“Back in the day, you had time to break a record regionally, let it build, then go national. Now if something doesn’t move in a week, it’s labeled a flop,” he explained. Hayes pointed to the rise of TikTok as both a blessing and a curse. “It’s great for exposure, but what happens when your viral moment dies and you don’t have a foundation?”

He criticized the way major platforms now double as gatekeepers while rarely investing in the artists they boost. “They profit off the heat without any responsibility for the fallout,” he said. “Labels are just trying to ride the wave, which is why you see so many copycat signings that don’t last.”

Independence Isn’t for Everyone

While many artists are going independent, Hayes offered a grounded perspective. “It’s empowering, sure. But independence doesn’t mean free. It just means you pay for everything yourself,” he said. Hayes warned that without a solid team and financial literacy, many independent artists burn out fast.

He recounted conversations with artists who left major labels for independence but struggled with distribution, touring, and promotion. “The infrastructure is different. You gotta build your own machine. And that’s not glamorous,” he said. Still, he acknowledged that for artists with strong business acumen or niche audiences, independence can be a viable—and often more fulfilling—route.

Hayes believes the choice between signing and staying indie should come down to goals. “Do you want a brand or a business? Do you want to sell out a 500-cap room for 10 years, or chase a platinum plaque and hope to sustain?” he asked. “There’s no wrong answer, but you have to be clear on the question.”

On Gatekeeping and Giving Back

Hayes is no longer at a major label, but he hasn’t left the game. These days, he consults for emerging artists and small imprints, focusing on strategy, structure, and survival. He’s also developing a nonprofit aimed at educating young musicians about contracts, royalties, and rights before they ever step into a label meeting.

“I’ve seen too many bright artists lose their shine because no one told them what that first deal really meant,” he said. “We don’t talk enough about the emotional and mental toll the business takes, especially on young Black artists.”

Hayes sees his new role as part gatekeeper, part guide. “If I can stop just one kid from signing a bad contract out of desperation, that’s worth it. That’s how we shift the culture.”

He doesn’t sugarcoat the industry but believes in its potential. “There’s still magic here. There’s still room for innovation and art that changes lives. But you have to know the business to protect the art.”

What Labels Still Get Wrong

In his view, the traditional label model hasn’t adapted to modern artists. “They still think in album cycles and radio campaigns, but artists live in a constant feedback loop now,” he said. Hayes believes labels must evolve their internal structures to match the pace and demands of the digital era.

He criticized how some A&R teams are now just monitoring data rather than developing talent. “You’re not signing voices anymore—you’re signing metrics,” he said. “But numbers can’t tell you if someone can move a room.”

Hayes wants to see a return to holistic development: artist training, real-world experience, and mental health support. “It’s not just about the song. It’s about stamina, self-awareness, and systems,” he said. “We need execs who know how to build artists, not just sell them.”

Asked if he’d ever return to a major label, Hayes paused. “Only if they let me do it right. No shortcuts. No data first. Just good music, good people, and real development. If that’s not the mission, I’m good where I’m at.”