Sages and Guides: Why Start A Record Label In 2025?
First impressions
Hi. My name is Keith, and I quit teaching to start a record label. Try it. Tell someone you're starting a record label in 2025 and watch their face. The expression you'll get is probably similar to announcing you're launching a new sub-prime mortgage investment business in late 2008, or maybe that you've decided to open a Blockbuster franchise. And we're familiar with the story: streaming killed the industry, bedroom producers don't need labels, artists can distribute from their laptops. Record labels are in the same category now as fax machines and phone booths. So why would anyone quit a perfectly good teaching job to dive head first into a supposedly dying industry? Because, in my opinion at least, I think we're telling the wrong story.
The Real Story
It's true of course, that in the last 30 years or so we've digitized music. In the 90's I had both cassette tapes and CD's of pretty much everything put out by 'The Cranberries' and 'Radiohead'. I've watched it all go digital, and now, weirdly, back to vinyl again. But as well as inventing streaming, we seem to also have accidentally created the world's most overwhelming career obstacle course too. Yes, any teenager with GarageBand can make an album now. And yes, they can upload it to Spotify the next day. But then what? They're competing with 100,000 other tracks uploaded that same day, trying to understand algorithms nobody fully comprehends, building social media strategies that change monthly, managing streaming analytics, planning show or tour logistics, pitching for radio play which still seems to matter too, handling sync licensing, optimizing for TikTok while maintaining artistic integrity, and then somehow turning fractions of pennies per stream into rent money. It's like someone giving you the keys to a Formula 1 race car when you're still on your restricted licence and have never driven further than the New World around the corner. The old gatekeepers didn't disappear, they just got replaced by algorithmic ones that nobody really understands. And in a similar way to watching the Year 13's leave school, and possibly leave home too, while everyone celebrated artists getting "more freedom," nobody mentioned they were also getting more responsibility. A lot more.
Classroom Chaos
I learned this lesson in the classroom first. In my early teaching years, I was the "sage on the stage". I had the knowledge, students took notes, everyone knew their role. Then the internet happened, and eventually, devices in classrooms too. Now students could fact-check me in real-time. "Mister, my Dad did research online and says you're wrong about climate change." "Mister, but doesn't the MMR vaccine cause autism?" There's a standard reference we make to the printing press here, but I think it's an even more extreme paradigm shift now. The information wasn't controlled by institutions anymore, it was available to everyone, but unlike the printing press, it wasn't just some books, it was everything. Everything ever published, including what your slightly unhinged uncle just posted on Facebook. My job shifted from delivering facts to helping students navigate, evaluate and apply critical thinking skills to infinite information. From sage to guide. One moment crystallized this for me. I'd spent two weeks teaching Year 9s the delicate art of background removal in Photoshop - selecting subjects, refining edges, the whole laborious process. One girl wasn't working on the task. "I've finished," she said. "Already?" "Yeah, I just used 'background remover.'" She'd found an AI tool that completed the assignment in 2 seconds. This was four years before ChatGPT. And dare I mention it, before SUNO. The tools were already being democratized faster than the wisdom about how to use them. Sound familiar?
Still in the Storm
What I think we're missing about the music industry at the moment is that we're not in the aftermath of disruption, we're right here in the middle of it. When my students could suddenly create film-quality productions using AI for post-production tasks that used to cost thousands, they weren't celebrating the death of film studios. They were wondering how to use these tools to tell better stories. The barrier to entry dropped, but the need for guidance skyrocketed. Same with music. The barrier to making and distributing music has never been lower. But the barrier to building a sustainable career from music? According to some of the independent musicians I've been speaking with recently, it feels higher than ever.
Maximum Disruption, Maximum Opportunity
It's tempting to think that maximum disruption means "stay away from the industry." But it could also mean "this is exactly when you run toward it with a different playbook." My first year teaching was the first year of NCEA so I'm familiar with disruption. I've seen the internet and BYOD come into the classroom too. So I've noticed first hand the sweet spot during technological upheaval when the old players are struggling to adapt, user needs aren't being met, and the cost of experimenting is at its lowest. Like being the first person to figure out that you should probably learn to drive when everyone else is still arguing about whether cars will replace horses. The music industry is frantically trying to apply old solutions to new problems. Major labels are still thinking like gatekeepers in a world that doesn't need gatekeepers. Meanwhile, artists are drowning in possibility, but starving for direction, connections and genuine support. And this is where it can get ugly: plenty of others have noticed this gap and decided to exploit it. "Pay me for the guidance you desperately need." It's the same old power dynamic dressed up in new clothes - artists doing all the work while someone else collects the profit. There's an opportunity here to redefine how this should actually work.
What We're Building
Timeless Records isn't trying to be the next Global Music Group. We're not trying to control who gets heard or recreate the "good old days". Our goal is to build partnerships with artists, working with them to handle the digital and admin complexity so they can focus more on creating. But perhaps where we're different is in our multidisciplinary approach. As a team, our background and connections are in theatre, comedy, film and TV as much as in music. We've noticed both sides need each other but can't necessarily find each other. So we're creating shows that blend disciplines. We're co-creating projects that give artists multiple revenue streams such as session work, sync opportunities, collaborations and the chance to work short term existing projects occasionally, instead of having to start from scratch and do everything yourself every single time. Our approach is layered: DIY resources, flexible support services, full partnerships. Tools that are free or at least not prohibitively expensive. Clear terms, fair splits, genuine respect for the creative process. And we're exploring both existing and more innovative funding models that connect artists directly with people who want to support their work. Because the best learning happens when you have both the freedom to explore and the support when you need it.
The Scene We're Building
We want to see an Aotearoa (and beyond) arts scene where artists don't have to choose between integrity and survival. Where fans connect to music as something that genuinely moves them, not just background noise. Where creative communities thrive through collaboration rather than cutthroat competition. Not because we're idealistic, but because it's better business. Artists who aren't stressed about the mechanics of their career make better art. Better art finds more genuine connections. Genuine connections build sustainable careers. It's ambitious perhaps, but it's also not complicated, it's just been buried under layers of industry dysfunction.
Why Now Works
If we all stay waiting for everyone to accept that artists need partners, not gatekeepers, the opportunity will be gone. Right now, while established players are still figuring out their strategy and artists are still struggling with the complexity and the techsploitation, there's space to build something that actually serves the creative process. Years of watching teenagers adapt to new technology while helping them think critically about information turns out to be exactly the skill set needed as we navigate this landscape together. Not to mention I've been playing with tape recorders and vinyl since I was little, watching every wave of technological change in music and media. I've seen what works and what doesn't, what's truly revolutionary and what's more likely just shiny packaging on old problems. Perhaps the best time to enter an industry isn't necessarily when it's so stable and predictable, but when everyone else thinks it's too chaotic to make sense of.
Come Along for the Ride
This is just the beginning of course. We'll learn as we go, make mistakes, adjust course, and grow. But we're committed to doing it with artists, not for them. If you're an artist looking for genuine support that respects your creative vision, or a music lover who wants to see a healthier industry, follow us @timelessrecordsnz on Instagram, TikTok, and YouTube. We'll be sharing artist features, behind-the-scenes stories, and plenty of live music as we grow. Because if music has taught us anything through all these decades of technological change, it's this: when something truly connects with people, it never goes out of date. It's timeless.