It starts quietly: a few artists pulling their catalogues, a few more muttering about payouts and principles. But lately, the volume has risen. From Cape Town to Copenhagen, the whisper of “maybe I should leave Spotify” has turned into a full-blown chorus.
We’ve been watching this conversation unfold among our local community with particular interest. About a month ago, Let’s Get Local ran a poll on Instagram asking local musicians in our readership if they’d ever considered taking their music off Spotify. Out of 250 responses, only 16% said they already had — but nearly half, a striking 46%, admitted they’ve “thought about it recently.” That’s not a small number. As one respondent put it, “Spotify is the platform where we get the most reach […] but I hate that it’s the only way to be seen.”
That tension — between ethics and exposure — defines the moment we’re in. Artists are frustrated with low pay, poor audio quality, and an increasingly corporate ecosystem that treats music as data points rather than art. But most can’t afford to disappear from the world’s biggest streaming platform. For every Neil Young or Massive Attack taking a moral stand, there are hundreds of independent artists here in South Africa who need those few thousand Spotify plays just to stay visible. And visibility, in the age of the algorithm, is currency.
Let’s be clear: we’re not naïve about the power Spotify holds. Since launching in South Africa in 2018, the platform has become the de facto gateway to global ears. It’s how an amapiano track finds a fan in Berlin, how an unknown bedroom producer from Observatory gets playlisted in São Paulo. Spotify’s reach is extraordinary — and so is its grip. That’s why so many artists in our poll said they “haven’t gone through with it yet”, even if they want to. They’re torn between principle and practicality, and who can blame them?
Still, the cracks are showing. Globally, musicians are calling out Spotify for its tiny payouts — around $0.003 per stream, according to most estimates. Locally, that’s roughly six South African cents. In contrast, Apple Music pays around R0.15 and Tidal roughly R0.24. The math is brutal: in South Africa, covering a modest rent means ~100k–200k monthly streams if you own your masters (after a typical distributor cut) — and 400k–850k streams under a standard label royalty. That’s before tax and before splits with bandmates. On the other hand, selling a few dozen albums on Bandcamp could bring in the same income. It’s little wonder that more artists are beginning to describe streaming not as a revenue stream, but as a marketing cost.
Then there’s the ethics. Spotify’s CEO, Daniel Ek’s €600 million investment in a military AI company sparked outrage in 2024. For many artists, it crossed a line — how could their art, their creative labour, help enrich a man now profiting from defence technology? Massive Attack, Godspeed You! Black Emperor, and countless independent acts have since pulled their music in protest. Closer to home, our readers’ responses echoed that disillusionment: “I’ve never used Spotify as a customer,” one artist wrote, “because they have no respect for the people who make the music.” Independent artists are starting to act on that frustration. In October 2025, Brazilian musician Blue Mar removed his entire catalogue from Spotify, saying the platform’s focus on “algorithms over artistry” has led to “the de-appreciation of music” and worsened mental-health challenges among musicians.
Add to that Spotify’s long delay in rolling out lossless audio, its flirtation with AI-generated tracks, and a payment policy that now excludes songs streamed fewer than 1,000 times from earning royalties. The message many musicians hear is clear: Spotify rewards scale, not substance. If your song isn’t racking up numbers, it’s noise.
Yet — and here’s the catch — Spotify still offers what every artist craves: reach. As one local producer told us, “It’s the only place where I actually get discovered.” That’s hard to ignore when booking agents, A&Rs, record labels, festival curators, and journalists (including us sometimes) glance first at your Spotify stats before anything else. The ecosystem has become circular: artists feel trapped on a platform they no longer believe in, but can’t afford to leave. We’ve written before about how Spotify playlists don’t mean what they used to — and neither does PR, and this moment only deepens that reality: visibility is now its own kind of illusion. The numbers still matter — not because they reflect artistry, but because they remain the industry’s shorthand for relevance.
The answer isn’t boycotts alone. Taking your music off Spotify is a valid protest — but it’s also a privilege. Most musicians we cover are emerging, self-funded, hustling to build an audience. For them, streaming isn’t optional; it’s survival. So before leaving, build your own direct-to-fan network: Bandcamp, newsletters, vinyl drops, live shows, even WhatsApp broadcasts. A thousand real fans are worth more than a million passive streams. Bandcamp proves fairer models exist — artists keep up to 90% of sales, and fans invest directly in them.
Globally, others show the shift works. King Gizzard & the Lizard Wizard pulled their catalogue in 2025 and made it pay-what-you-want on Bandcamp — all 27 of its top sellers were theirs that week. Funk outfit Vulfpeck built a career on vinyl, merch, and touring rather than streams. Patreon turns loyal listeners into income; Jacob Collier and Amanda Palmer each earn thousands monthly from fans funding behind-the-scenes access. Pop artist VÉRITÉ even raised $90 000 selling NFTs tied to song royalties.
Closer to home, South African rapper Anatii drew headlines by removing his catalogue and releasing Punisher as an NFT, letting fans own the song directly. Artists like Zoë Modiga and Guy Buttery prove that live performance, merch and close fan relationships can sustain careers beyond playlists. The pattern is clear: whether through Bandcamp, Patreon, NFTs, or WhatsApp circles, the artists who thrive are those who own their audience. Streaming may amplify reach, but community sustains careers.
We also believe no platform, including Spotify, should ever act as though it can’t be replaced. Remember MySpace? iTunes downloads? Cultural monopolies fade faster than they think. Spotify’s dominance might look unshakeable now, but all it takes is a wave of artists and fans choosing elsewhere for the tide to turn. The shift has already begun — quietly, organically, led by conscience and fatigue.
So if you’re an artist caught between staying and leaving, know this: you’re not alone, and there’s no single “right” decision. But whatever you do, start building your own house before the rent goes up again. Streaming is a tool, not a home.
At Let’s Get Local, we’ll keep covering the artists who choose to question the system — and those inventing new ones. Because the future of music doesn’t belong to algorithms. It belongs to the people who make it.
