If you’re paying attention to what younger teens are actually interested in right now, it’s pretty clear that music is winning.

More and more kids are skipping the traditional routes like modeling agencies or local theatre programs and instead putting their energy into making songs, learning production, and building small fanbases online. For a lot of them, the goal isn’t Broadway or runway shows anymore — it’s Spotify, TikTok, and YouTube.

Music feels more accessible than ever. You don’t need to live in a big city, have industry connections, or even leave your bedroom to start. With a laptop, a mic, and some basic software, teens can write, record, and release their own tracks without waiting for permission from anyone. That alone makes it way more appealing than auditions, castings, and contracts.

There’s also more control. In music, kids get to shape their own image, sound, and identity. They’re not just playing a role or being styled by someone else, they’re telling their own stories. That’s a big shift from modeling and theatre, where most decisions are still made by agents, directors, or brands.

Social media plays a huge part too. When teens see artists their own age blowing up from a single song or a few viral clips, it feels realistic. They can watch the entire journey in real time, not just the polished end result. It makes music feel like something you can actually grow into, not just dream about.

The vibe is different now. Theatre and modeling used to feel like the main creative paths. Today, music feels more personal, more flexible, and more aligned with how young people already live online. For this generation, being an artist doesn’t mean fitting into a system — it means building something from scratch and seeing where it goes.

Written by Dean Cramer via Kings of A&R

For most artists, getting a message from a record label feels like winning the lottery. Years of grinding, uploading music, chasing playlists, building a following — and finally, someone from “the industry” wants to talk. The problem is, that moment of validation is exactly what labels rely on to push artists into deals that benefit the label far more than the artist.

The truth is, labels rarely sign artists because they believe in “art.” They sign artists because they see leverage. Data, momentum, audience, image, marketability. If you’re being approached, it usually means you’ve already done the hardest part: building something on your own. Ironically, that’s often when a bad deal becomes the most dangerous.

Most modern label deals are structured around ownership and control. The label offers an advance, which sounds like free money, but is really just a loan you have to pay back from your future earnings. Then they take a large percentage of your masters, your publishing, sometimes even your brand, merch, touring, and image. You’re essentially financing your own career while giving up the rights to it.

The biggest trick is urgency. “We need an answer by Friday.” “This opportunity won’t be here long.” “Other artists are interested.” Labels know that scarcity creates emotional decisions. Artists start thinking in terms of being chosen instead of being strategic. They stop asking the most important question: What am I actually giving up, and for what?

Another common tactic is the illusion of support. Labels promise marketing, playlisting, radio, PR, connections, and “the machine.” In reality, most artists on labels get minimal attention unless they’re already performing. If your first release doesn’t hit, you’re often quietly deprioritized while still locked into a multi-year contract you can’t escape.

What artists rarely realize is that in 2026, labels need artists more than artists need labels. Distribution is cheap. Marketing can be outsourced. Fans are built on TikTok, Instagram, YouTube, Spotify, and email lists — not through label offices. Many artists today are doing millions of streams independently, keeping ownership, data, and long-term income.

The smartest artists don’t ask, “How do I get signed?” They ask, “What does this deal give me that I can’t already build myself?” If the answer is vague — exposure, credibility, industry access — it’s usually not worth giving up your masters for the next 10 to 20 years.

A good deal should feel boring on paper. Clear splits. Short term. You keep ownership. You can leave. You understand exactly how money flows. If you can’t explain your own contract in simple language, it’s probably not in your favor.

The real flex in today’s music industry isn’t getting signed. It’s having leverage. It’s owning your catalog. It’s being able to say no. Labels aren’t evil, but they are businesses, and their job is to acquire assets at the lowest cost possible. Your job as an artist is to realize that you are the asset.

The moment you stop chasing validation from the industry is usually the moment the industry starts chasing you. And that’s the only position where a deal ever makes sense.

Braylin has released her second single, “Rumors,” continuing to build on the sound she introduced with her debut. Sitting between pop, bedroom pop, and indie alternative, the track leans into a mid-tempo, melancholic tone that feels tailored for late-night listening and background scenes in a Netflix series.

“Rumors” centers on the experience of being talked about, misrepresented, and left to deal with the consequences of other people’s narratives. The repeated line “Why are you spreading rumors about me” frames the song’s emotional core — not as confrontation, but as quiet frustration and disbelief. Rather than escalating into anger, the track stays restrained, reflecting the isolation that comes with being misunderstood.

Production-wise, the song keeps things dark and minimal. Sparse instrumentation, muted textures, and subtle vocal layers create a moody atmosphere without overloading the arrangement. The focus remains on Braylin’s voice and the emotional weight of the lyrics, letting space do most of the work.

With its understated structure and reflective tone, Braylin’s “Rumors” fits naturally into Spotify spaces like Fresh Finds, Fresh Finds Pop, Indie Pop, Bedroom Pop, Alt Pop, sad hour, Chill Pop, and late night vibes, appealing to listeners drawn to low-key, emotionally driven pop.

New artist Siena Rivera has officially entered the scene with her first release, “Fades.” The track blends pop with a slight country influence, landing somewhere in the space of early Taylor Swift—simple, melodic, and focused on honest storytelling.

“Fades” is a mid-tempo, melancholic song about watching moments slip away, especially in relationships that once felt steady. The line “I wish the good times would stay, but they all seem to fade away” sums up the feeling behind the record: wanting to hold onto something even when it’s already changing.

The production leans into a Nashville sound, with full pop arrangements, clean vocals, and acoustic elements that keep things grounded without feeling stripped back. It’s polished, but still centered around the song itself rather than heavy effects.

As a debut, “Fades” feels like a solid introduction to who Siena Rivera is as an artist—someone drawn to emotional themes, reflective lyrics, and accessible pop with a personal edge.

Spotify playlists “Fades” could fit on:
Fresh Finds, Fresh Finds Pop, Pop Rising, Indie Pop, New Music Friday, sad hour, Chill Pop, Young & Free, Acoustic Pop, Women of Pop

For artists who write from lived experience, some songs exist simply to document a moment rather than resolve it. “Temporary Tragedy” does exactly that. Instead of offering answers or framing the story as growth, the song stays inside the period after a breakup where nothing feels settled and emotions remain unresolved.

NYC-based bedroom pop/rock singer-songwriter ROREY released “Temporary Tragedy” alongside a music video, marking her first release of the year. The track focuses on the internal impact of staying in a relationship that was emotionally uneven, where one person continued investing while the other had already disengaged.

Lyrically, the song avoids blame and instead centers on the effects of emotional waiting. Lines like “I’m losing sleep / I can’t breathe / And I can’t eat / And I’m losing me” reflect the physical and mental toll of remaining attached to someone who cannot meet the same level of commitment. The narrative is less about heartbreak itself and more about the slow process of losing parts of yourself in the attempt to keep something alive.

Musically, “Temporary Tragedy” sits within bedroom pop and alternative pop, built around layered guitars, strings, and a restrained vocal delivery. The production supports the theme of repetition and rumination, mirroring the mental loops that often follow emotional loss.

The music video expands on these ideas using a red string board as a central visual. The imagery represents the pattern of replaying memories and searching for meaning after a relationship ends. While the story is rooted in ROREY’s first queer relationship, the structure of the song and video keeps the perspective open, allowing it to reflect broader experiences of emotional imbalance.

“Temporary Tragedy” fits naturally within Spotify spaces such as Fresh Finds, Fresh Finds Pop, Indie Pop, Bedroom Pop, Alt Pop, Pop Rising, and sad hour, appealing to listeners who gravitate toward personal narratives without resolution.