From merit to metrics, algorithm over art: A walkthrough of everything wrong with India’s music scene
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“How many times can a man turn his head, pretending he just doesn’t see?”
– Bob Dylan
The independent music scene in India has never had it easy. It’s been built, brick by brick, by artists, organisers, and devoted stakeholders: all working on fumes, makeshift stages, and more hope than budget. But despite its grit, one thing keeps pulling it back: a culture shaped not by music, but by marketing.
Today, indie musicians are not just fighting for listeners. They fight for space in an industry ruled by cliques, corporations, and content farms masquerading as media. Lazy journalism. Algorithm-first platforms. PR-led playlists. Everyone wants to "support the scene," but few are listening. And even fewer are helping.
This isn’t just about who gets coverage. It’s about who gets to matter.
And nowhere is this failure more obvious than at Rolling Stone India, a once-revered name that now helps uphold the very system it once claimed to challenge.
Rolling Stone India doesn’t stand for music – it stands in the way
Rolling Stone India has rotted from the inside out, transforming into a business-first, music-last magazine that panders to industry trends, celebrity culture, and insipid chart statistics. What was once a platform for discovering and amplifying music has devolved into a glorified PR machine, churning out fluff pieces on star-studded weddings and the same tired names they’ve been recycling for years.
Instead of standing for artistry, they have positioned themselves as tastemakers for an industry they no longer understand. They actively gatekeep it to favour their friends and those already basking in the spotlight. They no longer celebrate music. They filter opportunities through a lens of proximity, status, and mediocrity. Artists who are not part of their inner circles or linked to publicists do not even stand a chance.
The independent music scene in India is already an uphill battle, with artists struggling for even the smallest moments of amplification. In a fractured music economy, a single mention, a shared post, or a two-paragraph write-up can mean the difference between a song reaching an audience or disappearing into silence. But Rolling Stone India ignores that responsibility entirely. Worse, they mock it.
Their so-called "journalists" don’t even listen to the music they pretend to write about. Insiders confirm that they lazily send out generic questionnaires, slap the responses together with a copy-paste introduction that could apply to literally any artist, and call it an interview. There’s no engagement, no critique, no effort, just regurgitated mediocrity from writers who wouldn’t know genuine artistry if it smacked them across the face.
And of course, it gets worse. If you’re willing to send them freebies, your odds of getting covered go up. If you make bland, disposable music that aligns with their own lifeless writing, they’re even more inclined to feature you. Like they say, it takes one to know one. Mediocre writers gravitate towards mediocre artists, and together, they perpetuate a culture of artistic bankruptcy.
This is a magazine that does not stand for music. It stands against it. It feeds into the existing inequality that makes it nearly impossible for independent artists to break through, reinforcing a cycle where only the well-connected, well-funded, or well-branded get any attention. What’s missing is a publication that actually upholds the spirit of music, one that values songwriting, creativity, and raw expression over numbers, trends, and industry politics.
A case study in collapse: Cigarettes After Sex, AI bands, and editorial freefall
Rolling Stone India’s editorial decline isn’t just disappointing. It’s dangerous. This isn’t about a few bad interviews or forgettable cover stories. It’s about a magazine that no longer engages with music in any real way. They’ve traded instinct for influence, and when they do attempt a critique, the results are laughable at best.
Let’s talk specifics.
In January, Cigarettes After Sex played a much-anticipated show in Mumbai. Fans went in knowing what to expect: a moody, minimalist set focused on atmosphere, not spectacle. But the magazine assigned the review to someone with no apparent understanding of music, a corporate employee with zero credibility in the scene. The review closed with this gem: “The lack of bold production choices or a more engaging setlist left many hoping for a stronger show.”
Fans were quick to call out the cluelessness on Instagram, only to find that their comments were being deleted. And in a display of staggering self-importance, the reviewer commented from his personal account, praising his own work as “on point!” This is the editorial standard. This is what’s left of music journalism in India.
But it’s not just about incompetence. It’s about deliberate exclusion. Countless independent musicians send thoughtful, well-written pitches to this magazine, often with zero response. Not even a rejection, just silence. Meanwhile, friends of the writers are granted instant coverage via WhatsApp, bypassing every artist who's worked for years just to be acknowledged. Do they genuinely believe good music only comes from their social circles? Or are they simply too lazy to look beyond them?
And just when you think it can’t sink lower, they give coverage to an AI-generated band, while hundreds of human musicians wait to be heard. An AI band. In a world where real artists are burning out emotionally, financially, and mentally just to keep creating, this is what Rolling Stone India decides deserves space. A band in the metaverse doesn’t feel ignored. But a young songwriter does. And often, that silence is enough to make someone quit.
Industry-wide rot: The business of music is failing the music
This callousness isn’t limited to Rolling Stone India. The rot runs deeper.
A senior executive from Universal Music India recently claimed that Anuv Jain is “one of the biggest artists in the world.” Really? Has he even heard enough music to understand what “great” sounds like? Or are we now using the word “artist” as shorthand for data points and brand palatability? This isn’t taste. It is a sales strategy masquerading as opinion, the kind that strips music of nuance, depth, and, most critically, quality.
And then there’s the manufactured boy band “Outstation,” a label-backed project with no released music, but already being promoted across Billboard’s official social media pages, thanks to a strategic tie-up between an artist management firm and a major label. This isn’t artist development. It is a product launch. It is marketing pretending to be culture. And people are falling for it.
This is the epitome of gatekeeping and industry dictatorship, where careers are built not on talent, but on relationships, resources, and reach. And the tragedy is, no one at the top seems to care what damage this does to the morale, aspirations, and livelihood of thousands of sincere artists who still believe in music as art, not just content.
Curated for clout: Why the best music doesn’t make the list
When it comes to music distribution and streaming, the story is no longer about access. It is about exclusion.
For smaller artists, the ones without teams, budgets, or brand deals, landing on an official editorial playlist on Spotify, Apple Music, or YouTube Music feels less like a possibility and more like a punchline.
These playlists were once imagined as merit-based spaces where good music could rise on its own. Today, they function more like gated communities built on favouritism, influencer metrics, and quiet deals behind the scenes.
Even the so-called alternatives have given in.
OKListen was once a rare holdout, a platform that actually cared about what it was distributing. But after its acquisition by a major label, whatever values it had were promptly stripped. What is left is a pale imitation of its former self, another cog in a system that no longer rewards sincerity.
Meanwhile, the rhetoric from streaming reps and distributor A&Rs grows more detached from reality by the day. Artists are routinely told things like: “Editorial playlists aren’t as important as you think. They don’t really do much.”
This is not honesty. This is spin. A coping mechanism designed to excuse a broken system that has quietly erased merit from the equation.
Because here is what actually determines playlist inclusion today:
- Your Instagram follower count
- The production value of your music video
- The streaming counts on your previous releases
None of this has anything to do with the song itself. None of it reflects creativity, innovation, or emotional depth. And that is not accidental.
In this environment, real talent becomes a threat. Genuine artistry cannot be gamified or credited to middlemen. If a song is brilliant, the A&R cannot claim they discovered it. If it moves people on its own, the label executive does not get to feel like a kingmaker.
This ecosystem rewards mediocrity not by mistake but by structure. Mediocrity can be moulded, packaged, and sold. It is easier to champion blandness when it keeps the machinery running and the egos intact.
And yes, this too is about ego. It is about an industry so desperate to justify its existence that it will do everything possible to keep true artistry at a distance. Because if people ever realised how hollow the system really is, they might finally stop listening to the ones who built it.
And let’s not forget the absurd rule that songs only begin monetising after reaching 1000 streams, with no revenue paid to the artist for the first 1000, even after that threshold is crossed.
Music was never meant to be this hollow
What India’s music scene needs isn’t more hype or polished PR. It needs a selfless platform, one that amplifies truth, craft, and courage, not numbers and name-dropping. Because the people running the industry right now have clearly forgotten that music once had the power to move people toward beauty, honesty, and love.
If Rolling Stone India and its ilk won’t stand for the art of music, then it's time someone else did.
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