DIY didn’t disappear.
It changed shape.
What once felt slow, local, and freeing now often feels loud, endless, and strangely heavy.
The tools are more powerful than ever.
So are the expectations that come with them.
This isn’t nostalgia.
It’s an attempt to name the pressure many artists are carrying without quite realising when it arrived.
I’ve written a longer reflection on how DIY mutated, and what that shift has quietly done to creative work on the Amplifyr website.
For a long time, being DIY meant choosing to do things your own way.
It was slower, more local, and more limited, but it came with space. Space to focus. Space to grow. Space to make work without feeling watched or compared.
Somewhere along the line, DIY started to mean something else. Not freedom, but responsibility for everything. Not independence, but constant visibility. When all the tools arrived, so did the expectation that you should use all of them, all the time.
Nothing disappeared. It just shifted. And many artists are quietly carrying more weight than they realise.
This is something I’ve been thinking about more deeply in a longer piece on the Amplifyr website.
The Myth of the “Pure Artist” (and the Damage It’s Done)
Taken from some thoughts about the musician-to-entrepreneur evolution that's been taking place over the last decade.
The first part is up on the Amplifyr.co.uk website now.
The Myth of the “Pure Artist” (and the Damage It’s Done)
Some thoughts taken from a riff about the musician-to-entrepreneur evolution.
The first part is up on the Amplifyr website now on the link in my bio.
When I was younger, I thought not thinking about money was a kind of artistic purity.
It felt noble. Protective. Like keeping the work safe from contamination.
But over time, I realised something uncomfortable.
While I was avoiding money, everyone else in the system was learning it in detail. Labels. Managers. Promoters. Platforms.
I was still organising gigs, selling T-shirts, booking vans, and figuring out how to fund the next thing. I just felt guilty acknowledging that this was part of the work.
Looking back, avoiding money did not make me more creative.
It made me less informed, less confident, and more dependent than I needed to be.
This post connects to a longer reflection on the Amplifyr website about where the “pure artist” myth came from, and why it has done more harm than good.
What I learned running music marketing campaigns in 2025.
The following lessons are not new,
not exciting,
and not algorithm approved.
They do tend to work.
What would a sustainable version of success look like for you?
No charts, no fame — just balance, freedom, and creativity.
💭 Paint me your picture below.
Mushroom Pillow proved independence can thrive by going deeper, not wider. They doubled down on Spanish-language artists and built a loyal world around them. Sometimes “niche” is just another word for home.
🎧 Soundtrack: a track from Triángulo de Amor Bizarro.
Do it differently → Grow local, then global.
Who else is wondering what's next after social media?
It's an attention grab that most people are trying to avoid nowadays.
There's no denying it works, but it's often hard to make it work.
It can feel ike you're at the will of the algorithm gods.
For years, I've heard people say email is old-school.
But it's still here, it's more direct, and it's more in your control.
Christopher Carvalho (@songcardgram + @uysgram ) makes the case for building fan relationships you actually own.
👉 Do it differently → Start your email list today.
What’s the weirdest thing about your music, image, or process —
the thing you used to hide but now lean into?
👁🗨 Drop it below — weird is where the magic lives.
Most artists don’t need another “hack.”
They need a clear plan — what to focus on next, and how to make their efforts pay off.
My 1:1 Strategy Sessions help you see the bigger picture and make smarter moves.
👉 DM “Session” to book a slot.
