The Platform Is the DJ (But You Can Build the Booth)

There was a time when DJs could make hits.

In the early 90s, my job title at MTV was Head of Music Information. That title alone tells you everything about how the industry worked then.

Every week, playlists flooded in from radio stations, club charts, tastemaker DJs around the world. Who played what. What broke big in Berlin. What was climbing in Manchester. What bubbled up from pirate stations in East London.

Everyone was watching everyone else. We studied the plays. We tested the tracks. We tracked the movement. Slowly, track by track, station by station, a song could snowball into a hit.

It was messy. Organic. Human.

You didn't buy attention. You earned it through circulation. People fell in love with music through discovery, not delivery.

Today, the DJ has been replaced by a machine.

Spotify's Discover Weekly. TikTok's For You Page. YouTube's autoplay. These platforms don't listen to your song. They watch how people react to it.

They don't reward depth or risk. They reward behavioral outcomes. Engagement, skips, watch time, saves, shares.

Success isn't about quality anymore. It's about compatibility with an algorithm that doesn't care what your music means.

But what if that's not a problem?

What if, instead of resisting the platform, you used it like a lab?

Here's the shift: Don't act like one account trying to do everything. Act like a network of creative surfaces, all working together.

Be the scene, not just the artist.

Your core artist account is for real fans. Full songs. Honest posts. Thoughtful rollouts.

Your TikTok side account is for experiments. Teasers, beat flips, early verses, duets.

Your visual Instagram feeds your aesthetic. Polaroids, behind-the-scenes, artwork.

A theme or meme page in your genre draws top-of-funnel discovery from people who don't know you yet.

A fan-run account (with your support) becomes a thriving community hub.

This isn't fragmentation. It's strategy.

Every surface has a different job. Some catch attention. Some build connection. Some deepen loyalty. Together, they form an ecosystem, not just an artist page.

In the 90s, we studied DJs and charts. Now you study data trails.

If something flops, learn. If something takes off, guide people deeper.

The outer orbit feeds the inner sanctum. Experiment outside. Build inside.

Don't confuse this with selling out. You're not making content. You're building pathways to your art.

The algorithm doesn't care what your music means. But your fans do.

So meet them where they are. Let the machine spread the seed. Let your real work grow the roots.

The DJ may be gone. But the booth? You can still build it.