the TrueFans AMP— Magazine Issue 138

“I think it’s [Music] the worst industry ever— 99.99% of people fail.”
— Mark Cuban

In This Issue... 20 pages (about 30ish minutes to read) You'll Get... 

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• Recommends— Joel Gouveia & “The Artist Economy”

• Your BIZ— The Death of Spotify From the perspectives of Joel Gouveia and Jimmy Iovine

• Greatest Music Artist of All Time— Tommy Makem: The Man Who Carried a Country With Him

• in partnership with American Songwriter 

• TrueFans Feature— Mark Cuban Says Music Is the “Worst Industry Ever”… He’s Not Wrong. But... 

• P.S. from PS— Attention Is NOT the Game

Here’s the playlist

• Recommends— Joel Gouveia & “The Artist Economy”
If you want to understand where the music business is going— before it gets there— Joel Gouveia is one of the clearest voices we’ve come across.

Joel operates where it actually happens: sync, artist development, brand partnerships, deal-making. Not theory. Not commentary from the sidelines. Real work, real stakes.

What makes his writing stand out is not just insight— but perspective.

He looks past surface-level trends— streams, platforms, headlines— and asks better questions:

What’s really driving artist income?
Who actually owns the fan relationship?
Where is value being created—and where is it quietly leaking away?

His Substack, The Artist Economy, is where those questions get explored.
And importantly… answered.

There’s a discipline to his thinking. He doesn’t chase outrage or easy conclusions. He builds arguments. Connects dots. Challenges assumptions— especially the ones the industry has gotten comfortable with.

Start here in this issue with • Your BIZ—The Death of Spotify

Then keep going. There’s a significant body of work forming at: Joel Gouveia on Substack.

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Note from John Fogg:
I haven't been around the music business a long time. But long enough to have seen multiple “this changes everything” moments— some that did… and many that didn’t.

Joel’s work catches my attention for a different reason.

He’s not reacting to what’s obvious. He’s looking underneath it— at how the system actually works, where value is created, and where it quietly slips away.

That’s not the common conversation.

And when someone is working at that level… I tend to slow down and listen— and most importantly, learn.

You may want to do the same.

We’ve spent a decade learning how to win the streaming game. Playlists. Algorithms. Pre-saves. Streams. But what if that entire system— the one we’ve optimized for— isn’t the destination? What if it’s just… a phase?

• Your BIZ— The Death of Spotify. Or… The Beginning of Something Much More Interesting From the perspectives of Joel Gouveia and Jimmy Iovine

A Thought Worth Sitting With
In a recent Substack piece, The Death of Spotify, Joel Gouveia shares a perspective sparked by a comment from Jimmy Iovine— one of the most important figures in modern music and tech:

“The streaming services… are minutes away from being obsolete.”

That’s not clickbait. That’s a signal. And Joel does something important with it—
he doesn’t react.  He thinks it through

What He Sees (and Names Clearly)
Joel’s argument isn’t that Spotify disappears tomorrow. It’s that the model underneath it is fundamentally fragile. 

Streaming solved access.
It solved piracy.
It scaled globally in a way nothing else ever has.

But in doing so, it quietly introduced three structural problems:

First, music became a utility— interchangeable, always-on, and increasingly taken for granted.

Second, the economics don’t scale like real tech businesses. The more streaming grows, the more cost grows with it.

And third— the one that matters most...

The artist lost the direct relationship with the fan.

The Relationship Problem
Streaming platforms are extraordinarily good at delivering music. They are not designed to help artists build connection.

They don’t give you your audience.
They don’t give you access.
They don’t give you ownership.

As Joel puts it plainly: The platform holds the data. The platform owns the relationship. Which means…

Artists are building careers inside systems they don’t control.

A Quick Visual (Because This Says a Lot)
Here’s a perspective that’s been circulating— and it pairs beautifully with Joel’s point:

At first glance, it challenges the narrative. More artists are earning meaningful income today than ever before. That’s true. But it also misses the deeper shift.

In the CD era, access was scarce. Now, access is infinite.

So the question is no longer:

“How do I get on the shelf?”

It’s:

“What do I build beyond access?”

Where Joel Takes It
This is where his piece gets especially valuable. He reframes the future not as a collapse… but as a transition. 

From: 

Mass audience → Micro-communities
Streams → Relationships
Attention → Ownership

He points to what’s already happening:

Artists quietly building email lists.
Capturing phone numbers.
Creating private communities.
Focusing on Average Revenue Per Fan instead of total plays.

Not abandoning streaming— But no longer depending on it.

The Deeper Alignment (TrueFans Lens)
This connects directly to what we’ve been exploring. Streaming flattened fan behavior.

The difference between a casual listener and a TrueFan… shrank.

Everyone pays roughly the same.
Everyone gets the same access.

And as a result, the upside of fandom— the part that used to sustain Music Artists— was reduced.

Joel’s insight— and Iovine’s warning— both point to the same shift:

The future doesn’t belong to platforms.

It belongs to artists who build direct, meaningful, ongoing relationships with the people who care. 

So… Is Spotify “Dead”?
No.
But the idea that Spotify is the business? That’s what’s fading.

Streaming is a tool.
A powerful one.
But it’s not where your career lives.

TrueFans TakeAway
Use streaming.
Learn it.
Leverage it.
But don’t build your house there.

Because the Music Artists who win the next decade won’t be the ones with the most streams— They’ll be the ones with the strongest connections.

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About the Author
Joel Gouveia works at the intersection of music, culture, and commerce, with experience in sync, artist development, and brand partnerships. He writes The Artist Economy on Substack, where he explores fan economics, AI, and sustainable artist careers.

About The Artist Economy (Substack)
Practical, forward-thinking analysis on how artists, managers, and music entrepreneurs can navigate the next era of the music business. Highly recommended: Read Joel’s full original piece for the complete argument and nuance.

• in partnership with American Songwriter

We let St. Patrick’s Day pass by a couple of weeks ago… and somehow missed the one Music Artist who may best embody everything that day— and the TrueFans AMP™— stands for: Tommy Makem… and the The Clancy Brothers.

That’s on us. And worth correcting. Because if you want to understand TrueFans—not as a concept, but as a life in music— look no further.

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• Greatest Music Artist of All Time — Tommy Makem: The Man Who Carried a Country With Him

"Tommy Makem didn’t just sing 
the songs— he was the songs."

Tommy Makem didn’t set out to “build a career.” He set out to carry something important forward.

Born in County Armagh into a deeply musical family— his mother, Sarah Makem, was a renowned traditional singer and collector— Tommy grew up in a world where songs weren’t content. They were currency. They were memory. They were identity. You didn’t perform them to be heard. You sang them because they mattered.

When he came to America in the mid-1950s, that orientation never changed. He didn’t adapt Irish music for a broader audience. He didn’t simplify it, modernize it, or package it.

He stood in it. He was it.

And by standing in it fully, he made space for others to step in with him.

The Clancy Brothers… and Tommy
The story most often told begins with The Clancy Brothers— and more completely The Clancy Brothers and Tommy Makem— who, in the late 1950s and early ’60s, brought Irish folk music to international stages.

"Those Clancy Brothers records were really powerful. That was the stuff that got me going." 
— Bob Dylan

"They were very important. They made Irish music something people wanted to hear all over the world." 
— Van Morrison

Their performances at Carnegie Hall. Their appearances on American television. Their influence on the broader folk revival, including artists like Dylan, who studied their phrasing and repertoire.

All of that is real.

"They had a tremendous influence on the whole folk scene." 
— Pete Seeger

"They brought a kind of authenticity and passion that people responded to immediately." 
— Liam Clancy

But the easy version of the story is that this was a “group success.”

The truer version is that Tommy Makem was a defining force within it.

He wasn’t background. He wasn’t interchangeable. His voice— clear, commanding, and deeply rooted— cut through in a way that felt both ancient and immediate. His musicianship wasn’t ornamental. Whether on tin whistle, bodhrán, or banjo, he brought a rhythmic and tonal authenticity that grounded the entire sound.

And perhaps most importantly, he brought conviction.
Not performance.
Conviction.

When he sang, it didn’t feel like interpretation. It felt like continuation.

So when he stepped away from the group in the mid-1960s to pursue a solo career, there was no diminishment. No sense of loss in scale or relevance.

There was continuity. Because what people were responding to had never been dependent on the group structure.

It was the man. The music. And the connection between them.

The Work: Songs as Living Things
Tommy Makem wrote songs. He preserved songs. He revived songs.

Four Green Fields remains one of the most powerful expressions of Irish identity ever put to music— part allegory, part lament, part quiet anthem. Red Is the Rose, The Rambles of Spring, Gentle Annie— songs he carried and shaped through performance.
But to focus on authorship is to miss the deeper point.

Tommy understood that songs are not objects.
They are living things.
They exist fully only when they are shared—sung, felt, remembered, and passed on.

That understanding shaped everything about how he performed.
He didn’t deliver songs as finished products. He opened them up. He left space inside them. He invited the audience not just to listen, but to enter.

And when people enter a song, they don’t forget it.
They carry it with them.

Performance as Participation
This is where Tommy Makem separates himself— not just as a great folk artist, but as a model for what we call TrueFans.

His performances were not built around attention.
They were built around participation.
The room mattered. The moment mattered. The people in front of him mattered.

There was an unspoken agreement: this is not a show you watch. This is something you are part of. And so people sang.

Not tentatively. Not as a novelty. But fully. Voices rising together, often with a kind of emotional clarity that had nothing to do with technical perfection and everything to do with shared meaning.

That’s not easily replicated.
And it’s not easily scaled.
But it is unforgettable.

And that’s the trade Tommy Makem made— whether consciously or not.

Not scale.
Depth.

Professional Success… Without Losing the Thread
It would be a mistake to frame Tommy Makem as a “folk purist” who existed outside the professional music world.

He was successful by any reasonable measure.
He toured extensively across the United States and internationally. He appeared on major television programs. He recorded albums that sold. He became, in many ways, the face of Irish folk music for a generation of listeners.

But here’s the distinction that matters:
He did all of that without losing the thread.
The thread being the relationship between the song and the people hearing it.

He never allowed the platform to become the point.
The point remained the connection.
And because of that, his connection held.

Influence and Reach
Tommy Makem’s influence extends far beyond his own recordings and performances.

He helped define the global understanding of Irish folk music at a time when it could easily have been diluted or dismissed. He influenced the broader folk revival, not just in repertoire, but in approach— how songs are delivered, how audiences are engaged, how tradition is honored without being frozen.

Artists who followed— whether in folk, Singer Songwriter, or even broader acoustic traditions— absorbed elements of what he did, often without realizing where it came from.

The clarity of phrasing.
The respect for the material.
The understanding that performance is a shared act.
These things ripple.
And they continue to make waves.

What Music Artists Can Learn
It’s easy to look at a career like Tommy Makem’s and say, “Different time. Different world.”

And yes— there are differences.
But the fundamentals have not changed.

People still want to feel something real.
They still want to belong to something, even if only for the length of a song.
They still respond to artists who are not performing at them, but connecting with them.

"Tommy Makem was one of the great interpreters of Irish song. When he sang, you believed every word." 
— The Dubliners

Tommy Makem’s career suggests a different path than the one most artists are encouraged to follow today.

Don’t start with scale.
Start with meaning.

Don’t measure success by how many people hear you.
Measure it by how many people carry what you’ve given them.

Don’t aim to be impressive.
Aim to be true— to the material, to the moment, and to the people in front of you.

Because when you do that, something shifts.
The audience becomes part of the experience.
And when that happens, they don’t just remember you.
They stay.

"He was a giant of Irish music. A man who carried the songs the way they were meant to be carried." 
— Christy Moore

Legacy
Tommy Makem’s legacy isn’t abstract. It’s specific.
It lives in songs that are still sung.
In rooms where people still gather and find themselves, unexpectedly, part of something shared.
In the quiet but enduring truth that a life in music can be built not on attention, but on connection.

That you can carry something forward— and in doing so, become part of it.
That you can build not just a career, but a body of work that lives beyond you, because it was never only yours to begin with.

He didn’t just perform Irish music… he made the world fall in love with it.

That’s what Tommy Makem did.
And that’s why he belongs here, there and everywhere. .

Mark Cuban joined Kristin Robinson of Billboard’s On The Record at SXSW and didn’t hold back—calling music “the worst industry ever.” We went through the full conversation, line by line, to see what the Shark Tank billionaire actually got right— and what Music Artists might be missing.

• TrueFans Feature— Mark Cuban Says Music Is the “Worst Industry Ever”… 
He’s Not Wrong But...  He’s Talking About the Wrong Game. 

Mark Cuban didn’t hesitate.

“I think it’s the worst industry ever.”

Not because music isn’t powerful. Not because Music Artists aren’t talented. But because— by his math— 99.99% of people fail.

That’s not a hot take. It’s a reality check.
And if you’re a Music Artist, it’s worth understanding exactly what he means. Because hidden inside that statement is something far more useful than criticism— it’s clarity.

The Brutal Truth Most People Avoid
Cuban’s point is simple.

Every Music Artist believes in their song. They put time, emotion, identity into it. And then they have to push it through a machine— and hope it comes out the other side as a career.

That machine is made up of platforms, playlists, press, algorithms, and gatekeepers— both old and new. Its job isn’t to develop artists. Its job is to filter, rank, and concentrate attention.

Which means a tiny percentage rises… and almost everyone else disappears.

The system isn’t broken.
It’s doing exactly what it was built to do.

This Isn’t About Talent
One of the hardest truths in Cuban’s perspective is also one of the most human:
Everyone thinks their song is going to be a hit.

And that’s not arrogance. It’s belief. It’s hope. It’s what makes someone create in the first place.

But the system doesn’t reward belief. It rewards outcomes.
And outcomes are shaped by timing, network effects, amplification, and momentum loops— not just the quality of the music.

Where the Money Really Goes
Here’s where Cuban says something most Music Artists don’t fully see.

All the big money flowing into music right now isn’t betting on artists. It’s betting on predictability.

Catalogs. Licensing. Established hits.

That’s not really music investing— it’s cash flow. Like rent from owning an apartment building.
The financial world loves music… but not the uncertain part where Music Artists are trying to break through.

Why It’s Getting Harder
Technology is making everything faster and easier. You can write, produce, distribute, and promote music in minutes. But so can everyone else.

Which leads to the obvious result: more music, more noise, and more competition for the same limited attention.

The barrier to entry drops… and the barrier to attention rises.

The Line That Changes Everything
Cuban doesn’t say “don’t do it.”
He says something far more important:

Every artist is an entrepreneur. You have to be.

That’s the shift.
Because once you see yourself that way, you stop relying on the system— and start thinking about how to build something that works for you.

The Real Problem (and the Opportunity)
The music industry isn’t broken.
It’s functioning exactly as designed: find hits, amplify winners, and monetize scale.
That system works.
Just not for most Music Artists.

So the real question isn’t how to win that game.
It’s whether you need to play it at all.

The Different Game
If the traditional path is built on massive reach, algorithmic exposure, and unpredictable income… There’s another path.

One built on direct fan relationships, owned audience, repeat engagement, and predictable income— not from everyone, but from the right ones. TrueFans.

This isn’t theory. It’s a different model entirely.

What To Do Now
If you’re a Music Artist, don’t ignore Cuban. Understand him— and then adjust.

Stop measuring success only by reach. Stop relying on systems you don’t control.
Start building relationships you own. Start thinking like an entrepreneur, not just a creator.

Because the goal isn’t to beat the odds. In the end, the house always wins. 

TrueFans Takeaway
Mark Cuban is right.
For the game he’s describing, 99.99% will fail.

But that’s not the only game available— and it may not even be the one worth playing.

Don’t try to win the system.
Build something that doesn’t depend on it.

Big voices had big things to say about the music business this week. Paul’s heard it all before— and sees something most miss. Mark Cuban called it “the worst industry.” Others nodded along. Paul's not arguing— he’s reframing the game. Entirely.

• P.S. from PS— Attention Is NOT the Game

I listened to the Mark Cuban conversation this week, and I’ve heard versions of that take more times than I can count.

The music business is broken.
The worst industry.
99.99% fail.

There’s truth in that. But it’s only part of the story.

What Cuban is really talking about isn’t the music business as a whole. He’s talking about the attention game— the chase for scale, for reach, for being seen by as many people as possible. And yes, that game is brutal. Always has been. Being noticed, getting lifted by the system— you’re stepping into a space where almost everyone loses. 

Not because they lack talent. Not because they didn’t put in the work. But because attention is rented, and the rent keeps going up.

That’s the part I rarely hear said plainly.

Now, to be fair, Cuban isn’t wrong about the odds. But the real question is: odds of what?

If the goal is mass attention, chart position, global scale— then yes, the odds are terrible. They always were. There’s nothing new about that. But what often gets missed is that this isn’t the only path available.

Across every era I’ve been part of, I’ve seen another way— quieter, less talked about, but far more dependable over time. Music Artists who stop chasing attention and start building connection. Not audiences as numbers, but relationships with people.

Because you don’t build a TrueFan by being seen. You build one by being felt.

That moment when someone hears your song and recognizes themselves in it— that’s where it begins. And from there, everything that matters comes down to what you do next.

Do you show up again? Do you speak to them, or at them? Do you let them in, or keep performing at a distance?

Fans don’t stay for the music alone. 
They stay for the connection around it.

I’ve watched artists with every possible advantage lose their audience, and others with far less build something that lasts for decades. The difference wasn’t talent. It was where they put their attention.

One group kept trying to win the attention game. The other focused on building trust. And trust doesn’t scale the way the industry wants it to. It grows person by person, over time, through consistency and care. Slowly, naturally, and in a way that actually holds.

So when you hear someone say the music business is broken, it’s worth asking what they’re really pointing at.

The attention model? Maybe. That part has always been unstable.

But connection— that still works. It always has.

If you take anything from this week's AMP, let it be simple.

Stop chasing more people. Start taking better care of the ones who are already listening.

That’s the game.
Always has been.

Thanks for reading. Give us your feedback.

And PLEASE, if you've got any Music Artist friends, pass the TrueFans AMP™ on, because... It’s Time... for a Change. Big Time. Past Time...
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New Music Lives™, Inc
4801 Lang Ave NE,
Albuquerque, NM, 87109