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May 5, 2026

Virality Is a Trap

Why virality hurts artists, listeners, and the industry as a whole
+ why it might be a good thing.

Note: I feel like I sound really mad in this.. the detail is me exploring the thoughts, not ranting:) 

… For Listeners

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The real discovery we want tends to get buried beneath whatever has the most attention. Unfortunately, in today’s digital industry, you can just pay to get that attention, creating what’s more like a competition of wealth. There are some cracks for smaller artists to slip through, but the industry-backed, pay-to-play acts still have the upper hand. What’s worse is that their viral growth is exponential — the whole thing spreads like a virus: the bigger an artist gets, the more space they occupy. For authentically growing artists, any growth seems great, but if too fast it introduces risks like a stunted development (see “For Artists”). Regardless, more often than not, these viral spaces are consumed by wealth-backed companies and labels, lurking discreetly behind their manufactured attention bait. 

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As a listener, you naturally assume that something gaining attention must be worth your attention. It’s only natural that some discomfort comes with straying from a larger group; but, why do we still succumb to a larger “group” when it’s full of manufactured, faceless people? There's that well-known psychology experiment where three people confidently give an obviously incorrect answer, and the fourth person caves just from the social pressure alone. Music discovery can work the same way, especially for young people seeking identity. If enough people like something, whether those people are real or not, the pressure shifts to you: play along or don’t. Nobody wants to be the one with the bad take, so there's a quiet incentive to go along with it.

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On top of that, being early to something feels good. It shows taste, intuition, and free-thinking. Honestly, there's nothing wrong with that pride, so long as it’s humble. I do this too. It’s like winning a horse race, betting on the underdog. The problem is when wanting to be early takes priority over whether you actually like the thing — when you're not there for the music, but the metrics. Wanting to be ahead of the curve just so you can say something like “I told you so”. Virality feeds off that desire. This desire, multiplied by the tens of thousands, is likely why a lot of things get the attention they do. Even if you don't particularly like an artist, seeing them gain traction creates an urge to interact, to timestamp proof that you were there. It's the same instinct as when people buy a stock that’s going up. Like stocks, it inflates into a bubble — one that bursts the moment people realize the hype never had much underneath it.

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The "underground" is a great example of the industry’s control over consumers. For several years, it was a genuine breeding ground — Black Kray, early Carti — artists with real arcs who built something before the masses were paying attention. But, the “underground” has always inherently attracted, and sometimes formed, members from that toxic subgroup: "I was there first” — those for whom the music was secondary to the identity of knowing about it. Over time, that aspect has only gotten worse. At this point, the “underground”, or at least the version most people are referring to, has seemed to become a staple for identity-seeking teenagers to find a personality template. The music has become a social token, with many proudly associating themselves with artists they can't say one good thing about. Now, even that social leverage has been devalued, as the scene is anything but under-ground. Nettspend went viral in roughly two years, off music that generally didn't develop so much as repeat itself, and people bought in for many of these reasons. Watch that bubble pop:).

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None of this is easy to snap out of, for anyone — the systems are designed to be invisible. But just being aware of those mechanisms can change their control over you. No need to go to extremes like boycotting the algorithm or going fully analog. But, it makes a world of a difference — the ability to recognize what you're seeing as real versus industry noise. That distinction is freeing. You can own your opinion, without being baited into one. 

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… For the Industry

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Major labels have always been more interested in moments than careers. Of course they want an artist whose revenue lasts, but they seem to operate under the assumption that the only way to stay relevant is by following trends — reacting to what's already moving rather than building something new.

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One glaring example is [retracted], an artist whose viral spotlight lasted roughly a year, and who was offered a six-figure deal by a major label. Their moment had already peaked, but the offer came anyway. It seems to reveal a painfully simple mindset — chase what's hot for as long as possible. Would they not make significantly more money investing in an artist with longer-term potential?

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What this really shows though is that major labels’ discovery and A&R is just as algorithm-dependent as everyone else's. The people whose job is to find them talent are using the same methods as a random listener scrolling their feed. Whatever taste, intuition, and long-term vision they once claimed to have has disappeared, now relying on reaction as opposed to prediction.

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The interesting part is that if the industry's discovery methods are that reactive, then an authentic independent artist, one who doesn't go viral, might be better off for it. They become invisible to a system that can only see what’s right in front of them. The industry is unable to  gentrify artists it once would have. For the first time, staying underground — actually underground — might be the most protective thing an aspiring artist can do.

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That is not to say that one shouldn’t pursue visibility. Ultimately, for an artist to attain their full reach, some level of publicity is necessary. However, it is more important than ever for one’s growth to be organic, if they want the integrity of their music to stay intact. In any case, organic growth is the best route for an artist for several reasons — no stunted growth, a real audience, long-term stability, to name a few.

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Major labels use virality as a filter: if it didn’t spike, it’s ignored. Metrics replace intuition. Numbers are prioritized over actual artist potential. But, this is a modern blessing, as not only do they leave the authentic artists behind, they vacuum up all those temporary, viral artists that make good discovery so hard.

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By the time the majors catch up, the artist already understands their worth. For now, as long as you don’t go viral, they can’t abuse you.

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​​… For Artists

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We're living in an age of profound insecurity, a threatening time for personal purpose — religious traditions decay, and we have an endless feed of digital comparison. Finding yourself used to be a slow, mostly uninterrupted process, something that took years or decades of quiet accumulation. Now it’s not so linear: you discover something about yourself, trends shift and invalidate it, you start over. 

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Much like glorified internet celebrities, the viral artist appears, from the outside, to have fully arrived. They look certain. They look found. But these digital identities are just mirages of that self-empowerment we all desire for ourselves.

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For the self-discovering artist, virality is convincing. A creative mind can get boxed in by that one idea that got them six-figure likes, chasing that same idea in circles, as if the metrics are showing them the right path. Picture running in a hamster wheel with a VR headset on, the digital imagery so convincing that it leads you to believe you’re actually covering ground. 

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In the past, some of the greatest artistic minds were undoubtedly lost to self-doubt or circumstance — an inability to fully pursue their vision, due to a lack of external validation. Today the issue is almost the opposite: a single snapshot of an evolving vision gets mistaken, by both the artist and the audience, for the finished thing. A kind of harmful, premature validation. The work gets frozen at the moment of attention, before it has the chance to come to fruition.

 

The problem with viral followers is that they didn't find you, they found a version of you. And when that moment passes, so do they. The audience that actually matters — for connection, for longevity, for any real career — is the one that understands the vision. Virality doesn't target those people. It captures momentary attention, not sustainable connection.

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And yet virality feeds on something legitimate — the desire to connect, to be understood, to have your work mean something to someone. That's not ego, that's just human, and it’s what I mean when I use the word ‘authentic’ — I don't mean obscure, or even unsigned, just an artist whose work is genuinely true to themselves, and whose aim isn't fame first. But virality disguises itself as the answer — it's like someone who is really interested in poker, settling for winning a single slot machine instead of taking the time to learn hold ‘em.

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You might ask, why can’t you have both?

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It's not impossible, but the cost of chasing virality is real: optics, life-maxxing, your 20s — and you risk arriving in your mid-30s with a thin resume and an irrelevant personal brand.

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What if you just want to make money?

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Money is hard to argue with, especially when you don't have much. The logic is simple: short term money beats no short term money. But for an artist with real long-term potential, chasing a viral moment is like running an advertisement for a product you haven't fully created yet. That said, not everyone can afford to be patient, and that’s a real constraint. If possible, working a day job or two could keep the lights on while you build something real on your own time. Nevertheless, virality might be the only option for someone who has literally no time to slow-build their craft. That tends to be the way of the world.

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The pull of a viral lifestyle is just as strong. Curator events, private shows, networking with other micro-celebrities — it's genuinely appealing, and denying it is wasted energy. Even artists who have long fallen off still seem to float through a lush existence — Hollywood Hills Airbnbs, expensive parties. But that's not lasting success, it's the afterglow of their camera flash, a light that may take a few years to fully dim. It looks like arrival. It isn't.

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