In March 2022, Bandcamp shook the independent music world when it announced that its founders had sold the company to Epic Games, the makers of Fortnite, leaving the fate of the platform — and that of hundreds of thousands of musicians who had come to rely on it — up in the air. A year and a half later, Bandcamp was sold again, this time to music licensing company Songtradr. Following the sale, Songtradr laid off half of Bandcamp’s staff, including most of the union’s bargaining team. It was the second time that the company had changed hands in just 18 months, creating even more uncertainty and anxiety.

Bandcamp’s acquisition left musicians and music workers with a familiar feeling of betrayal and concern. How did this happen? Wasn’t Bandcamp supposed to be the “good guy”? To many, Bandcamp had been the last bastion of independence in a recorded music landscape that had long ago left underground and emerging musicians behind. Now it had become another corporate asset, tied to the streaming giants it once marketed itself as against.

The news felt like yet another example of a platform positioning itself as an artist-friendly alternative, only to abandon its core values and community. And it was especially disappointing given Bandcamp’s positioning as the last true independent alternative in a streaming-dominated landscape.

That reputation was merited: While Bandcamp had raised millions of dollars in VC investment in their first two disclosed funding rounds, it claimed to have been profitable since 2012, and appeared to operate independently of investor influence. Its emphasis on direct sales, its fair fees, and its stellar editorial team led the Los Angeles Times to dub the platform the “Anti-Spotify,” and earned Bandcamp significant community goodwill. During the pandemic, Bandcamp Fridays became a lifeline for musicians who were stuck at home and unable to tour. The platform had effectively become a utility, a critical piece of infrastructure for independent music.

Bandcamp's reputation was built on its commitment to putting artists first. And yet, 15 years after its founding, the platform was unceremoniously sold, blindsiding the very community it served. There were no town halls or events to discuss this decision. What would have happened if Bandcamp’s artists had been able to advocate for their own interests and have a say in the decisions that impacted them? How might the story of Bandcamp have turned out differently if the platform had been collectively owned by its artists and community?

Bandcamp’s trajectory illustrates a depressing reality of the contemporary internet. Author Cory Doctorow coined the term "enshittification" to describe the gradual decline of services as they prioritize value extraction over value creation for users, a process he views as an inevitable consequence of platform capitalism. While Bandcamp’s tools seem to be working fine, its integrity as a platform and its very existence feels increasingly precarious. Given all of the upheavals of the past two years, it’s not a stretch to say that we are one press release away from Bandcamp enshittifying beyond recognition.

For independent musicians and music workers, it can be difficult to see the path forward. It's hard not to feel let down when organizations cultivate loyal communities, only to prioritize the interests of a small handful of stakeholders over the values they once championed. It’s tempting to think that a platform like Bandcamp, for all of the uncertainty around it, is the best we can do.

Yes, Bandcamp Fridays were great. But let’s not confuse generosity with systems change. In the shadow of Bandcamp’s do-gooder public perception is a troubling neutralization of any counter-force of accountability. Our current moment requires us to dream bigger. Systemic problems require systemic solutions.

Imagine a music marketplace where the community owns the code, controls the decisions, and shares in its success.

Subvert is a Bandcamp successor that is collectively owned, stewarded, and controlled by its community, with 100% of its founding ownership reserved for its artists, community, and workers. We’re building a platform that has artists’ interests, collective ownership, and democratic governance hardwired in its very DNA.

This is not a utopian fantasy. This is a concrete intervention. Building an artist-owned platform is a complex challenge, but it’s one we are uniquely positioned to solve. Our growing coalition includes founders of Ampled, a project that helped pioneer the concept of cooperative platforms, as well as artists, music industry professionals, and specialists in cooperative law and platform economics. Drawing on rigorous research, consultation with diverse experts, and our hard-earned lessons from running platform cooperatives, we've developed a comprehensive, viable plan for Subvert — one that we believe makes collective ownership not just a possibility, but a winning strategy.

Subvert’s primary goal is to create a collectively owned alternative to Bandcamp—a marketplace that makes it easy for artists to directly sell physical and digital work, while also giving them greater control over their own destiny. But our vision extends further. We're not just building a platform; we're creating a new model for an artist-owned internet. Our goal is to create a replicable framework that can be applied across various services and industries, challenging incumbent platforms through the power of collective ownership.

This is just the beginning.

In the coming weeks, we'll be sharing regular updates as we put this plan into action. We'll be diving into Subvert’s platform, documenting the process of building cooperatively owned digital infrastructure, as well as outlining our organizational model and larger vision. We’ll also be seeking your input and involvement. If you are an artist, or if you share our conviction in an artist and user-owned internet, you can follow along to learn more about becoming a co-owner of Subvert. Believing that Bandcamp is the best we can do puts a limit on our collective imagination. It’s a cynical view of our future. We believe that a better internet — one owned and controlled by artists and their communities — is not only possible, but inevitable and necessary. It’s time to build something new. Join us.