(Op-Ed) To Make Music Valuable Again, We Have to Stop Giving It to Everyone

There was a time when listening to music required intention. If I wanted to hear a new release, I had to go find it at a store, pay for it and hold it in my hands. I remember walking into Amoeba Music back when it was still on Sunset Boulevard, spending hours flipping through CDs and vinyl. I bought my first UGK CD there, my first Big K.R.I.T. CD and my first Devin the Dude CD, and each purchase felt like a direct investment in the artists who shaped my taste. The receipt was proof that the music mattered enough to keep.

Buying music felt like participation, not just consumption. You opened the case, studied the liner notes and lived with the album from front to back because that was what you paid for. I always loved the feeling of walking out with a bag that said I made a choice, not a click. It felt like supporting somebody you really believed in, especially when you understood how fragile an artist career can be. That feeling is hard to replicate when every album sits side by side on the same app.

One of my proudest purchases was Dom Kennedy, fully independent, placing Get Home Safely in Best Buy. I remember waiting for it to come out, then driving to three different Best Buys until I finally found one that had it. I stood there looking at that CD like it was a trophy because it represented ownership on both sides. It was my copy and it was his win, an independent artist pushing through a system built to overlook him. That moment taught me that buying music can be a statement as much as a transaction.

Streaming changed my habits quietly, and I do not think I noticed it all at once. Suddenly I did not have to go anywhere or spend anything beyond a monthly subscription. Access replaced ownership, and the market trained fans to treat music like water instead of product. Every now and then, an album still moves me enough to say to myself, man, I need to go buy this. That does not happen as often as it used to, and part of that is convenience, while part of it is how value has been diluted.

I also think about the fans who came up entirely in the streaming era and call themselves super fans but have never purchased music before. That is not even a judgment, it is simply the environment they were raised in. If you have never bought a project, it is hard to understand why someone else cares about ownership. That is why I want to shout out Joe Budden, because he is one of the few public voices who still talks about purchasing digital albums on Apple Music. In a culture that debates numbers every day, it feels important to remember that buying the album is still a real act.

Scarcity Still Works

Scarcity has always shaped how we value art, even when we pretend it does not. You can walk into a record store today and find rare vinyl priced at one hundred, two hundred or even five hundred dollars. Those records cost more because labels are not paying to produce copies anymore and the supply stopped. The culture decided the art was worth preserving, and the market followed that belief. Vinyl sections with high priced records are proof that music can still hold value when it is not infinitely available.

I think about Nipsey Hussle releasing Crenshaw with limited cassette tapes priced at one hundred dollars. I did not have one hundred dollars at the time, so I missed out, and I remember feeling both excited and disappointed at the same time. That drop made the project feel like a piece of history, not just another release week headline. To this day I still think about that cassette sometimes and wonder who has it. I also wonder what it is worth now, because scarcity tends to grow value over time.

The sneaker resale market is another real world mirror for how this works. When a new pair of Jordans releases, people line up at midnight knowing everybody will not secure a pair. Minutes later, pairs appear on resale sites, sometimes for more and sometimes for less, and the price changes based on demand. The fact that some people are left out is not a bug of that community, it is part of the design. In sneakers, missing out can be painful, but it is also why the items become cultural objects.

It also raises a bigger question about the future of resale in general. A company like Nike has to see the secondary market and understand that billions of dollars are changing hands without the brand participating in those transactions. If Nike sells a shoe for two hundred dollars and it later resells for one thousand, the consumer rarely criticizes the reseller for that markup. Yet if the brand itself tried to price it at one thousand, there would be outrage. You do not think a company would want a small percentage of those resale purchases built into the system.

Blockchain could allow brands to collect a royalty on each authenticated resale, while also using NFTs to prove authenticity as counterfeit products become more convincing. The same technology that can verify a limited album could verify a limited sneaker, tying ownership and authenticity together in a way that protects both the brand and the buyer.

That is the uncomfortable truth I want to carry into music. Some fans will feel left out if they cannot buy the first edition at the original price and resale is too expensive. I understand that, and I also understand why artists want as many people to hear the music as possible. But a world where everyone can hear everything immediately can also devalue the art, even if the intention is good. Scarcity is not about punishing listeners, it is about giving the work a chance to be treated like a product again.

If that sounds harsh, think about fine art. Basquiat only made a certain number of paintings, and people are left out if they cannot afford one, and that is simply reality. Music has always had that side too, from limited vinyl pressings to special edition box sets. The difference is that streaming trained us to believe music should never be gated. I think the next era is going to challenge that belief.

Blockchain Rollout Blueprint

I believe the future of music sales is centered on blockchain, because it can restore value through digital scarcity and transparent ownership. Imagine a global artist releasing one hundred thousand digital copies of a new album as a limited NFT edition priced at ten dollars. Fans buy at midnight the same way people chase a sneaker drop, and the first wave becomes an event. The buyers actually own the files in a provable way, and the market can track that ownership. Once the copies sell out, the album moves to resale.

The key difference from every other era is that the artist can be tied to every resale through smart contracts. The artist gets paid on the first sale, then also receives a percentage each time that same copy changes hands. One hundred thousand originals could trade a million times over several years, and the artist would still participate in the upside. That is the part that feels like putting value back into music instead of letting the entire long tail benefit everybody except the creator. It is also why I compare it to sneakers, because the resale culture becomes a revenue stream.

This is not just theory. Tory Lanez tested an NFT album release in 2021 with a one million copy drop priced at one dollar, and the rollout sparked real conversation about what digital ownership could mean. The launch also brought lessons about transparency and expectations, which is exactly why the next generation of this idea needs to be clearer and more structured. Early experiments do not have to be perfect to be meaningful. They show the market what is possible and what needs to be fixed. That is why I see it as a starting point, not a finished blueprint.

The rollout structure matters as much as the technology. If Kendrick is getting ready to drop a new album, the singles can be hand delivered to radio stations and select DJs first, creating appointment listening again. A station can say we are premiering a new Kendrick record in twenty four hours, and now fans are funnelled to that station at that moment. You are not finding it on Spotify, you are not finding it on YouTube, and you are not finding it on every playlist in the world. The only way to hear it is to show up where it premieres, and that puts value back into radio and into the DJ ecosystem.

If the single is strong, it can recreate the old logic of album sales. Back in the day, a single could sell the whole project because it made people believe the deeper cuts would be even better. This model brings that back by making the album something you buy before you hear everything. That does not mean the artist loses reach, because blockchain sales can still be global and accessible worldwide. What changes is the order of operations, where ownership and purchase come first, then broad access can come later. For artists who still want maximum reach, the NFT era can be a premium window for a year or two, followed by a wider DSP release.

I also hear the piracy question, because fans will ask what stops someone from ripping the files and uploading them anyway. There are modern ways to gate access, including token gated players, watermarking tied to the wallet, encrypted audio containers and license keys that only unlock playback for verified owners. Nothing in digital media is perfectly piracy proof, but the goal is to raise the cost and friction of theft while keeping ownership simple for legitimate buyers.

The same way streaming platforms use content ID systems and rights management, blockchain based releases can combine on chain ownership with off chain protections. If the market is going to treat music like a collectible, then the security layer has to be part of the product.

This can scale for smaller artists too. Global acts may be the first to make it feel normal because they have massive fanbases and the demand to sell out large editions. But independent and regional artists can start with fifty copies or one hundred copies and still build a market. Another approach is to sell the full album as the collectible edition, then later put only half the tracklist on DSPs so the original owners still have something exclusive. Scarcity does not have to mean huge numbers, it just has to be honest about the limits.

What This Could Unlock Right Now

This model can also bring back music sharing in a healthier way. If everybody cannot instantly hear the whole album, then music becomes social again. One friend in a group might own the release, and the rest come over to listen in the car or in the living room, the way it used to happen. That brings back the anticipation of hearing an album for the first time with people you trust. Scarcity does not kill community, it can actually create it.

It also changes touring and live performance in a way that benefits artists. Some fans might miss the NFT drop but still hear the single on radio or at a DJ premiere, and now they want the show even more. If the tour is built around the new album, the concert might become the first time some people hear deeper tracks. That creates another reason to buy a ticket, because you are not just watching a set, you are catching the music before it is widely available. In a world where tours carry the weight of most artist income, building more ticket demand matters.

On top of that, artists can create listening experiences that do not require them to be in the room. Once the NFTs sell out and the resale market is active, the artist can host nationwide listening sessions as ticketed events where fans come together to hear the album on a big system. Several can happen at the same time in different cities, because the artist does not have to be present for every one. The point is the fan experience and the community moment, not the artist photo opportunity. That is another revenue stream that sits between the album sale and the full tour.

I am not pretending this becomes the default tomorrow. I see it as a direction the industry can grow into as fans get used to digital ownership again. Until then, my call to action is simple and immediate. Support your favorite artists right now in the ways you already can, especially when you have an extra ten or twenty dollars. Platforms like EVEN are making that easier by letting fans pay what they want and buy directly from the artist.

We are watching real time proof that direct purchase still works when the culture gets behind it. LaRussell has been running a campaign to sell one hundred thousand albums in thirty days through EVEN, and the numbers attached to it are significant. Supporters such as Gary Vee have paid more than $15,000  for a single digital copy, Snow tha Product has paid $5,000, and Kyrie Irving has paid a couple thousand himself. Those are not random donations, they are purchases that reflect what certain fans believe the music is worth.

That is not a perfect replacement for everything streaming provides, but it is a reminder that value can return if we choose it. Even if an artist is signed, some of that money still reaches them, and buying music is still one of the clearest signals a fan can send. If we want our favorite artists to keep creating, purchasing the art is one of the least complicated ways to show it matters.