Going The (ridiculously expensive) Indie Route

For the Low Price of $250,000

Please watch the above Reel before reading. TLDR is it’s by music business influencer @lizkamlet, arguing that it costs a quarter million dollars to launch an artist.

“Liz the Music Manager’s” account is entertaining and informative; she has a wide range of industry expertise including managing the career of her husband, singer/songwriter Stephen Bishop.¹ I often enjoy Liz’s takes on the industry, and I deeply appreciate her advocacy for artists and writers owning their publishing. Shout it from the rooftops, my friends.

Although I’m critical of most of the claims here, I don’t mean this as a rebuttal or critique—the opinions expressed here are defensible. We’re in the same business, each doing work for and with real artists, reaching wildly different conclusions about the state of artist development. That’s fascinating and worth studying. My goal in writing about the business (with this post and in general) is to bring thoughtful and relevant information and ideas to the artist community, not to trash other professionals. This is a fantastic hypothetical that deserves another look.

Here’s the setup, complete with her wildly ambitious time-frame:

“If I wanted one of my independent artists to have a real shot at being successful in the music industry in less than two years, how much do you think I would spend? Two hundred thousand dollars.”

First, regarding the time frame, Liz points out you can’t build from nothing. Without some momentum and foundation, artists don’t launch within two years. It typically takes a decade or more. There’s also the inevitable implied question of how an artist is supposed to come up with (her revised figure by the end of the video) $250K, but we’ll get there shortly. Here’s the setup:

The “Easy” Route

First, Liz notes that she could go the “easy route,” and take the project to her entertainment lawyer to shop a deal. Since I’m an entertainment lawyer I’m going to pause here to critique the language she uses. I’m not suggesting bad faith; however, the language we use says a lot about how we view the industry. I do not care for the way she frames her nexus of relationships in this post.

She wants to take “her” artist to “her” entertainment lawyer. Do you see the problem? Keep in mind that all of us who are not artists—managers, agents, accountants, and yes, lawyers—are service providers. We work for artists. We are behind the scenes (unless, I suppose, we choose to turn the camera on ourselves as influencers). Musicians we serve are not “our” artists, we are their helpers who charge money for the value we offer. You all know my worldview: This is the Artist Business, and we’re all lucky to live in this world. We have to earn our place every day—by prioritizing artists and avoiding self-interest that harms, compromises, or extracts from artists’ property and livelihood.

Even more importantly from an ethical viewpoint, the lawyer can be “her” lawyer, meaning they’ve been engaged to represent Liz or her company. If it’s Liz’s lawyer, then it’s a clear conflict of interest for the lawyer to represent the artist. Even if it’s permissible for the lawyer to get a waiver and represent the artist, under absolutely no circumstances should the lawyer take direction solely from the manager.

I’m not suggesting Liz is unethical - this is a teachable moment on how we think about these relationships. Even if everyone’s hands are clean and the artist requests the service, this framing is problematic. Lawyers work with managers in a “team” setting, but the conflict risk is enormous. We always circle back to the same question: Who is our client? If someone who is NOT the client calls and asks us to take action on behalf of our client, it’s our absolute duty to confirm it’s communicating a request from the client. No shortcuts.

By Liz’s account, all she has to do is convince the lawyer the artist “has talent” and then the lawyer can produce a lucrative deal with the snap of her fingers. That’s not how it works.

I’ve said it before and I’ll likely say it a hundred more times: shopping baby artists is a waste of time at best, and it’s a strain on multiple relationships. It’s a relic of the old industry from a time when business people had far more structural power over artists. It’s usually a bad idea for everyone in the chain.

I am an entertainment lawyer and I do occasionally shop deals. I have my own network of industry gatekeeper relationships who are happy to hear from me when I have a client playing a hot hand. If there are offers out, deals on the table, a big viral moment, then I’d better let some folks know or else. If it’s a developing artist like Liz describes in this clip, then nobody wants to hear from me. I’ve been on both sides of the conversation, shopping lawyer and label head. I still remember every pest who continued to follow up with me long after I passed on an act. It’s awkward and aggressive. That will never be me and it shouldn’t be you.

To bring us back to the top, the 2026 version of shopping a deal is developing an artist. The difference between the ‘90s industry and now is that we all have the power to do it ourselves.

When it comes to early stage artist development, labels have clearly lost their way along with their appetite. Even if a powerful lawyer could walk a client straight into the label president’s office and leave with a deal, the artist is in for a hell ride. One critical lesson I learned running a label is that at minimum an artist needs powerful advocates who passionately believe in the artist’s future success. Without that level of commitment, the artist is the proverbial turd in the punchbowl—everyone’s problem and nobody’s priority.

And by Liz’s account we are talking about true baby artists here. Maybe not sea level, but inches above the ground if the goal is a mile high. 10,000 social followers on each relevant platform and 10,000 monthly listeners. Believe me, it’s a very heavy lift from there. An artist with those numbers probably can’t sell fifty tickets anywhere on earth. Artists who meet that description probably won’t get a record deal, and that’s probably a good thing.

The List

Looks like we're doing this the hard way. Here’s the actual itemized list she lays out in the video:

• Retain PR company for 12 months at $5,000 = $60,000

• Record album, minimum $50,000, probably more

• Merchandise, shirts, 500 LPs, 1000CDs, $10,000

• Industry showcases, rent venue, hire staff $50,000

• Marketing $40,000

• Food, lodging, travel, etc. add $50,000

PR Company

Liz states that this is the first thing, presumably the most important thing, to hire a top PR firm for an entire year to build the media presence of a baby artist.

The first thing to understand about PR companies is that they do not guarantee results. If they’re good, they’ll make a real effort. If they’re great, they’ll leverage their access, credibility, and contacts to build a story around an artist. However, if an artist doesn’t have a strong social media presence or established fanbase, it’s nearly impossible to build a story. To quote Liz, “if you start from nothing, you have nothing to work with.” By the same principle, if you start from practically nothing, you have practically nothing to work with.

Without real momentum, PR is probably a giant waste of money. What I’ve seen work in indie campaigns is bringing in genre-appropriate PR for a short window from the album announcement until about a month after release, if the setup is really working. If the launch is strong, you keep the PR on the job, possibly even for a full 12 months. But it has to be driving consumption and sales to justify the spend. Just planning to spend $60,000 on PR no matter what is almost certainly a tragic waste of resources.

Record Budget

Many of the most successful client projects I’ve had a hand in over the years have been cheap: low five figures or less. For Emma, Forever Ago by Bon Iver. Boys and Girls by Alabama Shakes. Barton Hollow by The Civil Wars. High Top Mountain by Sturgill Simpson. Long Time Coming by Sierra Ferrell. Moment of Truth by The Red Clay Strays. There are countless other examples of albums that cost next to nothing that have made millions. Julien Baker’s debut Sprained Ankle was recorded as a student project, for free. Genius costs nothing but it’s the exception.

By the same token, you can’t spend your way to creating a hit record out of mediocre work. And the vast majority of commercial music—nearly all of it, including every bit of AI slop—is mediocre, invisible, irrelevant. The old adage holds: You can’t polish a turd.

A true artist will create a great product in their own space with the resources they have. Maybe that’s a million bucks and a lockout at Blackbird, maybe it’s two turntables and a microphone. I’m not saying people shouldn’t pay session players and producers—they absolutely must pay everyone who contributes value to the project, whether on the front end, back end, or both. However, the idea that you can put an artist in the studio with a bunch of session musicians and expect a truly great product is optimistic at best.

Remember that artists are competing with generative AI product. Generative AI can make good music with professional audio on a prompt. The playing field has been leveled with respect to “good” sound. Original music has to be great to break through.

The biggest problem with this video is that we don’t know anything about the quality of the product. If the product is great, you can get things moving for far less than a quarter mill. If the product is bad, average, or even pretty good, you might as well set your money on fire. No spend or strategy will lead to an authentic audience. That’s the missing subtext, and why this is truly terrible advice. If you believe in your product, don’t be discouraged by these numbers. If you don’t believe in your product, then please consider investing in something with an ROI, like an index fund or condominium.

Merchandise, Etc.

In my opinion, you spend money on merchandise once there are actual customers. Merch sales are the spoils of victory. To my indie artist readers from the ‘90s, raise your hand if you’ve ever dumped entire box lots of CDs in the landfill. Congratulations, you have 1,000 CDs - now who will listen? You have a bunch of T-shirts of various sizes, who is going to wear them? This sort of aspirational spending is truly insane if it takes away from any category of spending that actually helps build an audience. And I guarantee it does.

Industry Showcases

Here’s where I realize that somehow Liz and I are in the same business but somehow on different planets or eras of human history. The idea, I guess, is that you’ll pack a room in an industry town with industry folks and you’ll find all sorts of valuable opportunities. I used to go to a bunch of these twenty, or even ten years ago. It used to be how artists got signed. You’d look around the room and see a few dozen A&R people and you’d know it was on.

But what value is likely to come out of this lavish spend? The reason Liz gives is that the act has to prove they’re talented and can engage with the crowd. I’m curious why she’d be working with a band in the first place if it’s a total mystery how they’ll do in front of an audience. And wouldn’t there be some less expensive ways to make these determinations?

Marketing

$40,000 on marketing? Absolutely. Double that number if you can. Or spend half that if it’s all you have. Find the best marketing partners you can find who truly believe in your project and SPEND! If you have a great product and a motivated artist with a defined brand who knows how to connect the dots on social media, then even ten grand goes a long way. Take back all that waste on PR, merch, industry showcases, and overpriced studios and put it all here, then go play some shitty gigs to mostly empty rooms and find your fans.

In 2026 building an audience requires three things. First, a great body of work. EP, album, whatever you’ve got, but it has to appeal to a wide range of music fans. Get this right first. Then, some version of digital marketing expertise that aligns with the artist’s brand, which will include social content, digital ads, platform marketing, possibly influencer marketing. Finally, it takes a lot of work, most of which will be done by the artist. Creating content, posting, making connections, collaborating, hustling shows, building relationships. It isn’t about how much it costs; it’s about quality, resources, and time investment.

It may cost nothing. I have a client in a bidding war right now on the strength of a handful of social posts using only an iPhone. The industry is lining up, because in the sea of mediocrity that is the Internet, real talent moves. You can’t plan on it, but when it works it costs nothing.

Once the spark is lit, the next challenge is finding some cheap money.

Cheap money, by the way, is money that isn’t expensive on the back end. Own your masters. Own your publishing. Maintain creative control. Sign a deal when it’s time to scale. And never, ever give a record company a piece of ancillary revenue such as live, publishing, or merchandise unless they are wildly overpaying on the front end. Don’t bet against yourself—the real value is once you’ve established consistent revenue streams that define asset value.

Miscellaneous

She’s right, you’re always going to spend more than you expect. Definitely plan to spend 50% more than you thought you’d have to spend. That’s great advice.

Here’s the Thing…

If you’re an artist, hone your craft. Build your audience and understand the points of connection between your work and your fans. You simply can’t throw money at a project and expect results—though at some point it’s necessary to spend lavishly to grow a spark into an inferno.

The problem is that cheap money is the exception, not the rule. Every investment in an artist compromises the artist’s ownership, opportunity, and creative control. If Liz is wealthy and willing to throw a quarter mil at a project without strings attached then great, her artist has found the Holy Grail of cheap money. But I doubt that’s the case.

The game is to maintain ownership, control, and autonomy until you build an audience, then figure out the minimum amount to spend until development is complete. Spend when it makes sense. I approved $250,000 budgets routinely when I ran a label, but that should be a different phase of development, and it’s even more critical not to waste it on things that don’t move the needle.

What may seem like the most frustrating thing in all this is the most exciting to me: Artist development only works these days if the product is truly great. Maybe that was always the case, but now it’s unavoidable. You’ll know when it’s great when people tell you it’s great. Not your friends, family, or business team—the people who don’t know you but will pay money to sing your songs back to you, smiles on their faces, tears in their eyes, united in a community that spontaneously forms around your music. Make that happen, then everything flows from there.

1. Bishop wrote On and On, which is a top 5 ‘70s pop song for me, and perhaps even more significantly he was the folk singer in Animal House—the guy who got his guitar smashed by Belushi. Iconic.