There was a time when the social side of the internet was a haven for anyone with a creative itch to scratch. Musicians, producers, and songwriters found spaces where they could let their souls bleed onto the digital canvas, surrounded by like-minded listeners and fellow artists who understood what it meant to make something personal public.
It was a rare period where boundaries felt a little softer, where the gap between audience and artist wasn’t a chasm guarded by trolls with nothing but time, bitterness, and an endless supply of derision. That era has withered. For every genuine comment or heartfelt connection made in 2025, there’s a new wave of gutter critics ready to spit venom at anyone brave enough to create.
These people don’t resemble the classic “armchair critic” – they make them look polite. Musicians today offer up their emotional vulnerability for public autopsy, knowing full well that the most honest thing they could make will likely be met with vitriol. And for those in marginalised groups, the abuse multiplies.
Where did the flood come from?
And what does it mean for those still willing to share their work, scars and all?
1. The Evolving Landscape: From Fan Communities to Digital Bloodsports
Early social media had its flaws, but for musicians, it was a godsend. Forums, Bandcamp, MySpace, and SoundCloud gave rise to global communities built on mutual support and discovery. Underground acts built cult followings. Musicians found encouragement from strangers, not humiliation. That optimism was short-lived.
Platforms exploded, the algorithms mutated, and the faceless masses grew emboldened. The line between feedback and abuse became a memory. Now, the appetite for cruelty is insatiable; even the most innocuous self-promotion can spark a feeding frenzy.
But the worst comes for those whose very identity offends someone’s prejudices. Women are told they don’t belong unless they fit an unattainable mould. LGBTQ+ musicians are targets for bigotry dressed up as opinion. Disabled musicians, artists of colour, and anyone who fails to fit the prescribed norms of a faceless, reactionary crowd receives the same message: “You don’t get to share this space.” It isn’t just disagreement – it’s open hostility, policing who is “allowed” to exist online. The algorithm might push your music to more people, but it’ll also push you into the firing line of people who thrive on tearing others down.
2. Why the Digital Shift? Algorithms, Anonymity, and the Death of Empathy
What has driven this transformation? The machinery behind the world’s biggest platforms now rewards engagement at any cost. Controversy, outrage, and derision travel faster than appreciation or curiosity. Trolls know that the crueller the comment, the further it spreads. The sheer scale and reach of TikTok, Instagram, and Twitter mean that any sponsored content risks not just exposure, but humiliation.
For musicians, promoting your track no longer just feels like raising your hand in class – it’s more like walking into a cage fight, waiting for someone to throw the first punch. The phrase “why the fuck is this on my feed?” is now almost a ritual incantation beneath promoted posts, signalling that your attempt to reach new listeners will always be read by those who would rather see you fail.
Anonymity only sharpens the blade. Trolls thrive when they have nothing to lose, their real identities buried beneath usernames and disposable accounts. Add to this a culture that rewards the most outrageous take with likes, shares, and a brief moment of online notoriety, and you have a recipe for misery. What’s worse, social media companies profit from the carnage. The more outrageous the comment section, the more time users spend gawping at the digital pile-up. Empathy is the casualty.
3. The Emotional Toll: When the Price of Exposure Is Your Peace of Mind
For musicians, the shift is personal, and it’s corrosive. The sense of creative freedom that once drove people to upload demos and rough takes now comes with the knowledge that every imperfection is an invitation for abuse. The fear of posting doesn’t just affect how musicians promote their work; it seeps into the creative process itself. When every note and lyric is filtered through the anxiety of online backlash, art suffers. Musicians grow guarded, reluctant to experiment or risk genuine expression. Self-censorship becomes second nature.
The cost isn’t just artistic. It’s emotional. The endless barrage of cruelty eats away at confidence and well-being. For many, a single negative comment can outweigh hundreds of supportive ones. That isn’t a weakness – it’s a consequence of being human in an environment that is increasingly designed to be hostile. The expectation that musicians should simply “toughen up” misses the point. We shouldn’t be normalising a culture that regards vulnerability as an open wound to exploit.
4. Armour Up: Developing a Thicker Skin Without Losing Yourself
The prevailing wisdom is to grow a thicker skin, but that advice is both reductive and dangerous if taken at face value. Musicians shouldn’t have to become bulletproof to survive online. That said, there are ways to regain some agency. Curate your audience. Make liberal use of mute, block, and report features. Surround yourself with a support network of people who care about your work and your wellbeing, not just your numbers. Set boundaries. Decide what you’ll tolerate and stick to it.
But most importantly, remember why you started. The voices that matter are the ones who see your humanity and respond to your art. There will always be people whose sole purpose is to try and drain your joy and passion. The solution isn’t to retreat – it’s to recognise that their opinions are the product of their own inadequacy, not a reflection of your talent. If you’re able, call it out. Shine a light on the behaviour. Most trolls wilt in daylight.
It’s also time for the platforms themselves to shoulder some responsibility. Policies are nothing if not enforced. Social media giants have the resources to create safer spaces, but rarely the will. Pressure them. Support organisations and campaigns that demand accountability and better moderation. Don’t accept the idea that this is just the cost of doing business.
Conclusion: Reclaiming Vulnerability in a Hostile World
The dream of social media as a utopia for musicians and artists has faded, but all is not lost. The resilience required to keep creating in the face of hostility is proof of the power of art – and the courage of those who make it. While trolls and gutter critics will always exist, they are outnumbered by people who want more music, not less; more honesty, not less; more voices, not fewer.
If you’re a musician, your vulnerability is not a weakness. It is what sets you apart from the faceless crowd. Keep creating, keep posting, and keep pushing back against the tide of abuse – because every song that gets made, every artist that keeps going, is a reminder that the internet’s worst users haven’t won. Solutions are possible, and the community is stronger than it sometimes seems. Just because the world’s got sharper edges doesn’t mean you need to dull your own. The trolls are hungry, but your art is hungrier. Let it feed the people who matter.
Article by Amelia Vandergast