African singer with dreadlocks singing to microphone and recording a song the recording studio
getty
For years, millennials entering creative industries were told to focus on their output (vocals, songwriting, producers).
The talent was rarely factored into conversations about ownership, equity and long-term wealth. That’s starting to change, and it’s being driven by the same generation that has spent the last decade reshaping what work looks like across industries.
Millennials came of age during the rise of the gig economy, the collapse of traditional media pathways (remember the rise of Napster?), and the explosion of digital platforms. According to the Pew Research Center, millennials make up the largest share of the U.S. workforce, yet they also carry over $1.6 trillion in student loan debt collectively, shaping a generation that is both financially constrained and highly motivated to seek ownership and multiple income streams.
According to Goldman Sachs, the global music industry is projected to surpass
$100 billion by 2035. At the same time, McKinsey estimates generative AI could contribute up to $4.4 trillion annually to the global economy.
Now, artificial intelligence is accelerating that shift—forcing creatives, particularly in music, to think less like talent and more like operators. The question is no longer whether value will be created, but who will own it.
At the center of this shift are founders like Romel Murphy, Gerald Carter and Pharren Lowther—builders who are rethinking how creators work, earn and scale in an AI-driven industry.
Murphy’s company, dai + drm, backed by a joint venture with Create Music Group, is built around a model that has historically been out of reach for many songwriters: participation across both master recordings and publishing, with equity baked in.
“Every major shift in music, songwriters are often left out of the conversation,” he said. “My goal is to make sure they’re at the table this time.” The firm currently manages the human woman behind AI singer Xania Monet, a controversial figure representing the quickly evolving music business landscape. Confusing? I know.
AI artist, Xania Monet, created by Telisha Jones.
Telisha Jones
That framing matters because the data tells a consistent story. The U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics shows that while creative industries continue to grow, income for many working artists remains inconsistent and heavily dependent on fragmented revenue streams. Meanwhile, streaming platforms—dominated by players like Spotify and Apple Music—have reshaped how money flows through the industry, often concentrating earnings at the top.
Murphy has seen how that plays out in real time. In reviewing contracts tied to AI-driven artists, he encountered deals offering minimal upfront compensation in exchange for long-term or permanent ownership of music rights.
“It’s not just business,” he said. “It’s whether there’s any ethics in how this is being done.”
At the same time, the rise of AI-generated artists is no longer hypothetical. Projects like Monet’s, one of the first AI-led acts to chart on Billboard, are already generating millions of streams—without traditional marketing or playlist support. According to IFPI’s Global Music Report, streaming now accounts for more than 65% of recorded music revenue worldwide, making control over digital distribution more critical than ever. That shift is forcing creators into a new role: operators managing intellectual property, distribution and monetization strategies from the outset.
Carter and Lowther are building for that reality. Their platform, Pre-Label, allows producers to train AI models on their own unreleased work, generate new compositions and sell access directly. It’s a move away from reactive protection and toward proactive ownership.
“A lot of creators don’t even realize what’s been taken,” Carter said.
Lowther, whose credits include work with major artists like Future and Lil Wayne, described a similar disconnect. Despite years of contributions, he has seen little direct revenue from platforms like YouTube tied to his work.
Carter and Lowther says the pre-label model reframes AI as a tool rather than a threat. Instead of competing with platforms that extract value, creators can build their own systems—training models, setting prices and scaling their output.
“If I created thousands of songs and only released a fraction, that’s still a goldmine,” Carter explained.
That thinking reflects a broader trend across the creator economy. According to SignalFire, there are now more than 50 million independent creators globally, but only a small percentage earn sustainable income. The difference increasingly comes down to ownership—who controls the audience, the distribution, and the underlying assets.
Still, none of this works without trust.
Creators have already watched platforms profit from their work without clear compensation. Convincing them to engage with AI—even on their own terms—requires education and transparency.
“It starts with helping them understand they still own what they create,” Carter said.
That education gap is significant. Many creators don’t fully understand how their data is used, what rights they retain or how much revenue they’re leaving on the table. Without that clarity, participation in the AI economy becomes guesswork.
For millennials, this moment feels familiar.
This is the same generation that turned newsletters into media companies, podcasts into subscription businesses and personal brands into full-scale enterprises. What’s different now is the level of urgency. AI is accelerating how quickly value is created—and how quickly it can be captured by someone else.
“You’re either going to use it, or someone else will,” Lowther said.
The question is not whether that value will be created, but who will capture it. For Black creators in particular, that question carries historical weight. From blues and jazz to hip-hop and R&B, cultural innovation has often been followed by a loss of ownership.
Murphy is explicit about what he wants to avoid this time.
“I want us at the forefront,” he said. “Not fighting for crumbs after the fact.”
For millennials navigating the workplace, the takeaway is clear. We’ve mastered the art of learning new tools. Now, adapting to the future of work means building systems around your talent—and making sure you own what those systems produce. In music, that shift is already underway. And for the creators willing to step into it, the job description is changing in real time—from artist to operator, then from contributor to owner.