In today’s music industry, it feels like posting on social media is part of the job description. Between announcing releases, teasing behind-the-scenes shots, and performing on Reels, artists are expected to be full-time content creators. It’s no longer enough to just make music—you have to feed the algorithm, respond to comments, and remain relentlessly visible. But what happens if you don’t? Can you survive as a musician today without playing the Instagram game?
For many independent artists, especially in India, the idea sounds unthinkable. These platforms are the few tools they have to reach their audience directly, particularly without major label backing. But the flip side of that access is a burnout cycle that few want to talk about. A growing body of research now confirms what artists have been saying for years—that the pressure to constantly create content is hurting their mental health and compromising their work.
In a 2025 study led by researchers at Goldsmiths and University College London (UCL), musicians described social media as a “content factory”—an environment that made them feel emotionally disconnected, anxious, and compulsively engaged, often at the cost of creativity. The paper, published in Frontiers in Psychology, featured interviews with 12 UK-based artists, who admitted that social media often made them feel “inferior,” triggered unhealthy comparisons, and took time away from songwriting and rest. One participant said, “I come off stage and the first thing I do is check my phone to see what people said online. It’s no longer about how the show felt—it’s about how it looks.”
This aligns with broader mental health data. A separate December 2024 study from UCL, involving over 15,000 UK adults from different nationalities, found that posting on social media—not browsing, not lurking—was linked to increased psychological distress one year later. Participants who posted daily reported significant declines in well-being, even after accounting for pre-existing mental health conditions. In contrast, those who consumed content passively showed no such decline. The lead researcher noted that the pressure to share publicly may fuel anxiety and identity stress, particularly among people whose careers depend on performing for an audience. Furthermore, a global study across 29 countries also found that excessive social media use is associated with lower well-being and higher psychological distress, especially in places where it’s widely used.
And it’s not just emerging artists feeling this strain. Addison Rae, one of the most recognizable faces of TikTok-era pop culture, has spoken openly about stepping back from the internet after feeling “so misunderstood” online. She described how the constant push to stay relevant made her feel disconnected from her real self. Actor Taron Egerton, while promoting his new show She Rides Shotgun, told the press that being back online after a hiatus made him feel “worse,” and that he intended to leave again soon. Their honesty speaks to something deeper—that even those who seemingly benefit most from social media can find it emotionally draining and creatively suffocating.
The music industry hasn’t made stepping back easy either. Let’s be honest: visibility is as close to currency as it gets. Algorithms reward frequency, not quality. Artists often feel like they’re being penalized for not posting enough—losing playlist spots, falling off festival shortlists, or being passed over for campaigns. Even artist managers and PR teams now factor in engagement rates before pitching for gigs. The assumption is: if you’re not online, you’re not working.
In India, this pressure is heightened by the absence of alternative discovery mechanisms. TikTok is banned, terrestrial radio lacks depth, and press coverage is very limited. For many artists, their Instagram profile acts as a business card, showreel, and booking portal all rolled into one. From college festivals to brand campaigns, follower count is often the first filter applied. Yet, some musicians are silently beginning to resist.
Take Mumbai-based rapper The Siege, whose sparse Instagram presence stands in stark contrast to his powerful live performances. Somehow, Siege has built a loyal following not through daily posts but through consistent, meaningful releases and word-of-mouth buzz. His set at GullyFest 2024 was a breakthrough moment—not because it trended online, but because it resonated in the room.
Similarly, Prateek Kuhad, one of India’s most-streamed indie artists, maintains a stripped-down Instagram presence. He rarely posts day-to-day updates or Reels. Despite that, his music has reached global audiences, landed him a spot on Barack Obama’s 2019 playlist, and sold out tours across the world. His success offers a powerful counter-narrative to the idea that visibility must be constantly shoved in our faces to be effective.
Even Bollywood playback powerhouse Arijit Singh keeps his engagement minimal. He avoids direct fan interaction, rarely posts selfies or personal moments, and doesn’t use his social media to push his presence. And yet, he remains one of the most listened-to artists in the world (in fact, he has more followers than Taylor Swift on Spotify).
These artists haven’t gone fully offline, but they’ve reclaimed control of the pace. They’ve drawn boundaries on what their digital lives owe the world. And while their results may not always be viral, some industry voices see this as a healthy recalibration. Prachee Mashru, founder of THIS? Agency that works with artists such as Shah Rule, Ritviz, and Gini says, “I think a lot of artists today feel torn. On one hand, I understand the need to evolve and use the tools available—social media is as much a part of PR and marketing now as physically dropping off CDs or USBs once was. But it’s also a whole different game: you’re not just focused on making music anymore; you’re constantly thinking about the content that will market it, how it will be perceived, and how to keep people engaged.”
Opting out isn’t an option for everyone. For most independent musicians in India—especially those from regional, Dalit, queer, or economically disadvantaged backgrounds—Instagram is often the only gateway to discovery. It’s where editors, promoters, and booking agents first encounter your name. What this reveals is a deeper issue: too much power has been ceded to platforms that were never designed with artists in mind. Visibility has become synonymous with viability. Follower counts now serve as a proxy for value, and content cadence is often given more weight than craft or consistency.
The current system incentivizes performance over process, packaging over patience, and audience growth over artistic exploration. Social media is framed as a solution, but for many artists, it’s another arena in which they must constantly compete, adapt, and sacrifice peace of mind.
It’s worth asking: why has an industry built around creativity become so tethered to platforms built around performance metrics? Why are artists expected to maintain a digital persona to validate their real-world output? And why does choosing rest or privacy still feel professionally risky?
If music is to remain a space for truth-telling, experimentation, and emotional honesty, then the systems that support it must also evolve. That means expanding definitions of success beyond visibility. It means supporting models where artistry doesn’t rely on feed frequency. And it means respecting an artist’s right to log off without disappearing because not every musician wants to be an influencer. And they shouldn’t have to be.
Leave a Reply