Taylor Swift owns all her music… what now?
What this saga reveals (or doesn’t) about the broader industry
Taylor Swift’s Instagram announcement of masters ownership
About two weeks ago, Taylor Swift finally bought back her “entire life’s work”. A huge win for her—but it’s not that simple. One of the biggest artists in the world fought for years to own her masters. If this is such a big victory rather than an implication—even for her—what does that mean for the average artist?
Back when Swift signed her deal at 14, it was common for artists to get a cash advance in exchange for giving their label ownership of their masters. Forever. Well, at least for whichever albums they made with that label.
At 14, you don’t really understand what that implies, and you need the label’s help for manufacturing and distribution. So you sign.
But 15 years later in 2018, her contract ended, and she hopped over to Republic Records. That’s when our story starts.
A short history
In 2019 it was announced that Swift’s former label Big Machine was bought by Ithaca Holdings LLC—whose owner is none other than this story’s main antagonist Scooter Braun.
Swift was “sad and grossed out” that an “incessant, manipulative bully” owned her work. So, because her new contract with Republic lets her own the masters of everything she makes under their contract, she vowed to re-record everything that Braun purchased. And she did. Almost.
Admittedly, Swift did try to buy her masters back before, but was told to “earn” them back: for each new album she released, she’d be given ownership of an older one. And she would have to sign an “iron-clad” NDA in which she promised not to say anything negative about Braun ever again. She did not accept. And she got to work.
It’s been an era of its own. Four re-recorded albums, 26 previously unreleased “Vault” tracks, two entirely new albums, topping seemingly every chart ever, and the highest-grossing tour of all time. Swift has been busy.
Sometime in the midst of all this, Shamrock Holdings bought the masters from Ithaca Holdings. And on 30th May, 2025, Swift bought everything back. “And all my music videos. All the concert films. The album art and photography. The unreleased songs. (…) My entire life’s work.”
Taylor Swift detailed the journey in a letter to fans, posted on her website.
What this means—and what it doesn’t
The Guardian called this deal “the win that could have the most salient downstream effect for both artists and people who appreciate music”. Is it?
Taylor Swift is a billionaire with a cult-like fanbase, and even she had to fight so hard to own her music. And she’s not the first. Paul McCartney and Prince, for example, have both fought for ownership of their masters. For McCartney, it took almost fifty years. For Prince, he had to work for it in a deal similar to what Swift was offered. So if even these hyper-famous people can’t own their own masters, what chance do indie artists have?
“I almost stopped thinking it could ever happen, after 20 years of having the carrot dangled and then yanked away.”
The general assumption outside the music industry is that if someone makes a song, it’s theirs. But that’s not a given. Within the music industry, the standard is that music is a product sold to someone else. So you make the music, you sell it to the labels, and they make you famous, hopefully.
That’s not all bad, because to be fair, owning your masters implies a lot of work. Yes, you have total control and make more money from it, but that means managing everything about it: its rights, distribution, publishing, licensing, and all the legal negotiations. Either that, or you hire someone to manage this for you. That requires time and money. Not to much of a problem for a billionaire, but trickier for someone making music in their bedroom.
When you decide to own your music, you’re deciding to give yourself a lot more autonomy but also a lot more responsibility. Owning music is much harder than just making it. That’s why people sign record deals in the first place. It’s a trade-off, and some people think it’s worth it while (most) others don’t.
Swift’s massive win still doesn’t really change that much for the average indie artist. The system continues to assume that artists don’t own their work. In order to sign a deal that gives you ownership of your masters from the start, you need knowledge, support, confidence, and privilege.
The bigger picture: artist ownership and rights
This story is a symbol, but symbols don’t fix systems. Most new artists still sign away ownership in exchange for exposure and might not fully understand what ownership really entails. Even experienced artists often face opaque contracts that are hard to navigate without support. And ownership is often framed in abstract legal terms—artists deserve more clarity on what it actually empowers them to do.
And for those who do want to retain their rights, there’s another obstacle: it takes a kind of privilege to say no. Ownership demands patience, education, and a degree of financial or social stability that not everyone has.
Many artists are already doing the work: reading contracts, watching videos, sharing knowledge with each other online. The problem is that the system counts on them not having access to professional support. Because of this, musicians have to figure everything out themselves—which is nearly impossible—because the system isn’t built to help them.
“Every time a new artist tells me they negotiated to own their master recordings in their record contract because of this fight, I’m reminded of how important it was for all of this to happen.”
This is where the industry—and policymakers—could do more. Some tools and initiatives are emerging: open-access contract templates, workshops from artist unions, and European efforts to increase transparency in rights management, for example. But they’re still niche, and most artists don’t know they exist.
Imagine a future where an 18-year-old artist doesn’t need to go viral or sign everything away to succeed—because they had access to support, education, and better deals from the start. That’s the goal.
Ownership shouldn’t require privilege or a viral moment—it should be a given.
So… what now?
This is definitely a step in the right direction, and a win worth celebrating. But the fact that this is such a victory for Taylor Swift just shows how the norm is for artists not to own their masters. This is just the start.
Swift’s win was made easier by immense wealth and her extremely devoted fanbase. She had leverage in the deal. The estimated amount she paid for these masters was at least $300 million, which as MusicAlly phrases it, not everyone can “afford to plonk down more than $300m”.
No doubt having the highest-grossing tour of all time and releasing six albums in three years (excluding special editions) helped her out financially. She said it herself, “to my fans, (…) the passionate support you showed [the re-recordings] and the success story you turned The Eras Tour into is why I was able to buy back my music.”
This might be a “no strings attached” situation for Swift, but it won’t be for others. Swift’s victory created a defensive response from labels. They’re now making it so artist have to wait up to 30 years to re-record their music.Combine this with the fact that she made so much money that she just bought back the originals and essentially gave us all permission to listen to the so-called “Scooter’s Versions”.
So what happens to the protest when you can afford a shortcut?
None of this is Swift’s fault—in fact, it’s a perfect example of using her massive fame for good—but it shows how hard it is to make long-lasting industry-wide change. Labels are still guarding power, streaming is still exploitative, and ownership is still inaccessible.
Our work isn’t done, we have to keep going. Many artists now ask smarter questions before signing anything. Young musicians now enter the business with a blueprint for pushing back—not everyone can do what Swift did, but everyone can understand what it meant and demand more because of it.
Maybe true empowerment isn’t just reclaiming old work—but building an industry where artists never lose it to begin with. And that’s not Taylor Swift’s job, it’s everyone’s.
