Your Spotify playlists are full of faceless artists

Don’t get me wrong; I have my favorite albums I revisit and artists whose work I follow, but some days, to get into the zone, I’ll just sit down and tap on one of the random streaming playlists on Spotify’s homepage. Maybe it’s called “Deep Focus,” or “Cocktail Jazz,” or “Soul Chill.” You’ve heard them: simple, unobtrusive tracks that create a soothing backdrop for concentration.

But here’s a question I’ve been asking myself and my peers: Without checking, could you name a single artist from that playlist? And more importantly, does it matter?

For many of us, this scenario plays out daily. In the era of streaming, music is expanding from something we actively engage with to something that helps us do other things. It’s become functional—a tool for focus, relaxation, or sleep. And as investigative journalist Liz Pelly recently covered in an excerpt from her upcoming book, streaming platforms are not just catering to this shift but actively engineering it for their financial benefit.

Shadows in the sound

You know that ambient jazz playlist with millions of streams? That lo-fi beat for studying? There’s a decent chance it wasn’t created by an actual artist but through what Spotify calls ‘Perfect Fit Content’ (PFC). These tracks are made specifically to fill mood playlists at cheaper rates and released under ‘ghost artists’ – pseudonymous names with no real online presence and often fabricated biographies.

The system works like this: Spotify partners with production companies like Epidemic Sound and Firefly Entertainment that hire musicians to create generic background music. These tracks are released under fabricated artist names and seeded onto playlists by Spotify’s internal teams. Musicians receive only a flat fee while surrendering their rights, and Spotify pays lower royalties for these tracks than they would to real independent artists.

According to Pelly’s investigation, musicians who create these tracks describe the process as creatively unfulfilling. The goal is to be deliberately bland —to create music that won’t distract listeners from their tasks. Spotify has been quietly filling many of its most popular mood playlists with this stuff, with over 150 playlists now predominantly featuring PFC tracks.

You might think this is all fine if you’re just using music as a background anyway.  The creator’s identity might seem less relevant for music that serves a purely utilitarian function, either helping us fall asleep or getting us motivated during a workout. But those playlists represent valuable real estate for working musicians. When your favorite “Chill Jazz” playlist fills up with anonymous tracks created for a fraction of the cost, that directly displaces independent jazz artists who might have earned meaningful income from those placements.

Many musicians have turned to producing PFC tracks to put food on the table. After all, the money is better than Spotify’s royalty rates, which are already among the lowest in the industry at just $0.003-$0.005 per stream. Yet they often quickly realize how unfair the deal is when they see their anonymous compositions rack up millions of streams while they only receive a one-time lump sum. Spotify and the production companies continue profiting from those streams indefinitely.

When music becomes wallpaper

What I find particularly concerning is how this creates a feedback loop. Musicians hired to create PFC tracks are instructed to study existing playlist content and replicate it. This creates an endless cycle of imitation where each new track becomes more generic than the last.

The result is a gradual homogenization of musical traditions. Rich genres with deep histories—jazz, classical, ambient—are reduced to their most inoffensive, algorithm-friendly versions.

This affects your experience as a listener, too. Even if you’re using music as background, wouldn’t you prefer something with a touch of personality rather than music deliberately engineered to be forgettable? The PFC system prioritizes music that won’t distract you—but it also won’t inspire you.

But if anonymous, template-driven tracks don’t concern you, consider the next evolution: AI-generated music.

The current ghost artist model creates the perfect conditions for AI to take over. When music becomes formulaic background content—when success is defined by not standing out—it becomes ideal for algorithmic replication. AI music generators will be ready to serve up playlists that cater to queries such as “I need music to help me focus,” displacing the already-underpaid PFC artists.

Several production music companies have already announced plans to incorporate AI tools. Streaming platform executives have expressed enthusiasm about AI-generated content, seeing it as an opportunity for growth. I seriously worry that the systematic devaluation represented by ghost artists will eliminate human creators entirely for certain types of music.

What can you do?

Right now, the most important takeaway is simply awareness. Streaming platforms don’t label ghost content—you won’t see “commissioned track” next to a song title—but now you know it exists.

This doesn’t mean you need to abandon your favorite study playlist. But it might change how you think about your listening habits. Some options to consider:

• Seek out playlists created by actual artists or independent curators
• Follow artists you discover and support them directly when possible
• Use the “artist radio” feature rather than mood playlists
• Be more conscious about what your streams are supporting

At the very least, being aware of ghost artists lets you make an informed choice about what—and who—you’re supporting when you press play.

To me, music has always been about connection, creativity, and expression. If we let streaming platforms reduce music to algorithm-friendly background noise based purely on cost efficiency, we risk losing the very soul of what makes music meaningful in the first place.