Could An Upload Fee Help Fix Music Streaming?

Taking a page from plane tickets, hotel taxes, and live music, could this be a way to emerging artists?

For many people who stream music every day, how artists and rightsholders are paid is not a primary concern. Convenience and access matter far more. For subscribers, there is an implicit assumption that part of their monthly fee compensates those who create the music they enjoy.

It is not dissimilar to boarding a plane. You buy a ticket, expect to arrive safely from point A to point B, and assume—without interrogating the system—that everyone involved in making that journey possible is being paid. As long as the flight takes off and lands, the transaction feels complete. Likewise, if the song plays on Spotify or Apple Music, the user believes they are getting what they paid for.

But this, of course, is not the case in aviation, nor is it in music. Behind the scenes, the streaming economy is far more complicated—and far less equitable.

On Spotify, artists must reach 1,000 monthly streams before royalty payments are triggered. This single rule effectively excludes an estimated 75% of all uploaded music from earning anything. At the same time, when royalties are paid, across all services, the value of a stream varies dramatically by territory, which rights administration organization is collecting the revenue, and an artist or rightsholder’s contractual arrangements with their business partners such as labels or distributors.

Detail of the Youtube Music streaming app on the screen of a Samsung Galaxy Tab, taken on October 6, 2021. (Photo by Olly Curtis/Future Publishing)

Future Publishing

Plus, the geographic disparities are stark. One million streams generate around $10,000 in Sweden. In Nigeria, that same level of engagement is worth closer to $300. Moreover, these figures fluctuate further depending on which platform the customer is using, the time of day one is listening, how much music is being streamed at a given time and other specifics. All the while, streaming services retain around 30% of revenue before any distribution occurs.

Cats In A Bag

Unsurprisingly, this has prompted serious debate about how streaming payouts should be calculated. Some platforms, such as Deezer, have explored user-centric or equitable remuneration models that pay artists based on what individual subscribers actually listen to. Others, including Spotify and Apple Music, continue to pool revenue and distribute it pro rata. Government enquiries and intense debate has not led to any further widespread reform at the top end. Add on streaming fraud, the mass upload of AI-generated music (much of it slop) and algorithmic playlisting, the fact that over 40 countries lack copyright management systems, and other inefficiencies, and it becomes clear that paying one’s rent or mortgage with streaming income is unattainable for most.

I believe there is another remedy, one widespread across other sectors, including other parts of the music industry, that we’re ignoring here. What if there was a cost (albeit very small) to upload music in the first place? And what if the revenue from such a cost were directed, intentionally and transparently, to supporting grassroots efforts?

Yes, an Upload Fee

First, consider the money. If more than 100,000 tracks are uploaded to streaming services every day, and the cost is 0.05c per track, such a fee would generate approximately $5,000 per day, or $35,000 per week, or $1.82m per year. Second, the potential behaviour change. Such a fee could act as a modest but effective deterrent to streaming fraudsters, who change artists’ names or BPMs to siphon off royalties from genuine rightsholders, because they would, in effect, have to pay to play. It could also add a barrier to those who benefit from mass uploading of low-quality or AI-generated content designed purely to game algorithms. Moreover, it may encourage more intentional curation at a time when an estimated 75% of uploaded tracks are never listened to. If there’s a modest barrier or another step to pass through, I believe some would think it’s not worth the trouble. Alongside this, it could go a long way toward addressing another challenge in streaming: the climate. Every uploaded track consumes energy and water through storage and data transfer, contributing to emissions regardless of whether it is ever played. Reducing volume for volume’s sake could lower the sector’s digital footprint.

Naturally, this raises important questions. Where would the money go? Who would manage it? And how would artists benefit?

One proposal could be to allocate funds nationally or regionally, placing them in trusts tied to where music is uploaded, like a community benefit fund. These funds could support direct artist grants or loans, studio and rehearsal space development, and other infrastructure gaps that limit participation—particularly in underserved communities. Done well, this would create a more circular music economy, reinvesting value back into the places where the creative work originates.

This Is Not An Original Idea

This is not a unique idea. In most industries, consumers accept that the price of a product includes a series of levies and surcharges. Airline tickets bundle airport upgrades, jurisdictional taxes, and decarbonization costs. Mobile contracts bundle a variety of costs into a monthly fee. Concert tickets routinely include service and transaction fees—rightly criticized, but widely normalized. Governments levy tourism taxes on hotel rooms. These charges are tolerated, and many are supported, when their purpose is clearly communicated.

Plus, there’s precedent in music now. In the UK, a £1 ticket levy on some concerts now supports grassroots music venues and France has operated a similar structure for decades. Private copying levies exist because hardware only has value if intellectual property exists to fill it. The principle is simple: if an industry depends on creative work, it helps sustain the ecosystem that produces it.

The difference here is that the cost is on the frontend, not the backend. A cost of doing business, so to speak, similar to the cost airlines pay to rent parking bays (to provide more convenience for passengers), or a choice to commit to organic farming practices in the belief that one’s produce will garner a higher price at market. For professional artists, labels, distributors, and rightsholders, a small, one-time upload fee may be a reasonable trade-off if there is transparency and accountability in how funds are used. For those seeking to exploit the system at scale, it would introduce a meaningful friction point.

For me, if streaming is to become more human and more equitable, a healthier system requires shared responsibility across the entire supply chain. An upload fee will not “fix” streaming on its own in the eyes of those who think it is “broken”. But it could create new capital, discourage abuse, and help rebuild the foundation of a music economy that currently extracts far more than it reinvests. Sometimes, the most impactful reforms do not happen at the point of consumption—but at the moment of entry. If we’re streaming more, we need to invest more. This is a way to do that – in a way that benefits humans over AI and artistry over algorithms.