Superfan Economy: The Comfort of Music Streaming Cant Erase the Tangibility and Ownership of Analog Media

If we look back to the 1970s, getting to listen to a good set of songs from a favorite artist was not as easy as it is today.

I was born in the 1980s, and my father, born in 1942 CE, found it difficult to find vinyl records to listen to. Fortunately for him, living near the Tiger God Shrine close to Sao Chingcha and not far from Yaowarat, he could travel to buy records at shops in the Worachak, Sampeng, or Wang Burapha areas.

At that time, the price of a single vinyl record was quite high because most were imported from abroad. Record players were luxury items; even those in the middle class with steady incomes had to scrimp and save to buy one. Very few could afford to own one personally. Vinyl records and record players, then called "sound chests," were mostly owned by the upper middle class to the upper class.

Vinyl records and record players signified social status. Most Thais back then listened to music via radio stations, as buying just a radio was enough to enjoy music and radio dramas. However, they couldn't freely choose the songs they wanted to hear, unlike abroad, where many domestic record players and records were produced, making them mass-market products accessible to all.

These social status and economic disparities clearly reflected that, historically, music and art consumption in Thailand were limited to elite groups. Luk Krung songs, with a Western pop-jazz flavor originating from the Department of Public Relations founded by Kru Ua Suntornsanan, used refined, elegant language with lyrics reflecting the affluent urban lifestyle.

In contrast, Luk Thung songs mainly catered to rural listeners, farmers, laborers, and migrants working in the city. Their lyrics depicted rural life amid nature and agricultural livelihoods, using straightforward spoken language with vocal inflections expressing deep sadness, somewhat akin to African American blues from the slavery era. Luk Thung drew influence from folk forms like Mor Lam, Lam Tad, and Isao. Luk Krung and Luk Thung thus subtly delineated social inequalities. A direct commentary on the gap between poor and powerful is found in the song “Smell of Mud and Buffalo Sweat,” lyrics written by Kru Paiboon Butkhan.

Although separated in the past, Luk Krung and Luk Thung today have crossed boundaries to become national treasures preserved and continued. Luk Thung still holds strong appeal among rural Thais.

Collecting vinyl records, once shellac discs, now vinyl, has become a hobby for collectors of all genders, ages, and classes. The experience of holding records, placing them on players, and admiring the cover art design is a delightful one.

Dunmee Wivat: A True Music Fan and the Price to Pay About 35 years ago, besides watching Channel 9 cartoons, reading "Khao Hiaw" magazine, and simple joys of playing in the rain with friends, my entertainment was listening to music on the radio. Of course, I couldn't choose the songs to listen to, but the arrival of cassette tapes allowed me to listen to desired songs. I remember secretly saving the money given by my aunt for lunch and pocket money, skipping meals to buy tapes of Yodrak Salakjai, Phum Phuang Duangchan, and Saiyan Sanya. I grew up with these Luk Thung songs before discovering pop and rock bands like XYZ, Nok Lae, Micro, Nuvo, and even Bird Thongchai McIntyre.

I still recall in high school saving money to buy at least one foreign artist's tape weekly, sometimes up to three, which was quite costly for a student with a monthly allowance under 3,000 baht in the early to mid-1990s. Tapes cost 99 baht each, CDs 450 baht, while concert tickets for international artists ranged from 400 to 800 baht, expensive for students without income.

I've been a dedicated fan of all music genres since youth. My status as a superfan, or devoted follower of artists regardless of genre, came at a huge cost. Based on my memory, from ages 15 to 22, I likely spent hundreds of thousands of baht on tapes and CDs, a scale young listeners today who mainly stream music might find hard to imagine. This isthe 'economic value of superfans' (Superfan Economy).In the analog era, fans had to save and endure to 'own' tangible music media.

The anticipation of finally obtaining an album from a favorite artist brought priceless joy. In an age where everything is instantly accessible at a fingertip, why has the Superfan Economy resurged? What are today's superfans seeking when they can (almost) listen to every song worldwide via diverse streaming platforms?

Let me rewind to the era when the music industry advanced through producing tapes, CDs, vinyl, and beautiful packaging — the main income for artists globally. It wasn’t reliant on frantic touring or merchandise sales as now, which has arguably eroded the beauty of the music industry’s past.

Superfans and the Longing for Aesthetic Sensory Experience

Today, streaming platforms have changed how we access artistic beauty, especially music. Many believe mere listening suffices, which often undermines 'multi-sensory perception'—our ability to appreciate music’s beauty through tactile interaction with physical media, viewing album art and players in action. This is called tactile aesthetics or 'Tactile Sense.'

The French sculptor Auguste Rodin's works require prolonged viewing to perceive dimensions, textures, and gravity, beyond brief visual observation. Touching his sculptures reveals intricately rough and smooth areas.

In music, labels like Third Man Records, founded by Jack White of The White Stripes (recently inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame) emphasize physical media. Jack White often states that album cover art, choice of materials and colors for vinyl, design, and paper quality constitute art that lets consumers interact with music concepts beyond just sound.

Listening isn’t just tapping a smartphone or digital player to stream music. Traditionally, we touched vinyl, tapes, or CDs, enjoyed the cover art's beauty, felt the weight of each item—from removing a CD from its case to placing it on a player. The click sound when closing a cassette deck, the unique scent of booklets, and the needle touching vinyl grooves produce sounds unattainable via streaming.The 'crack'sound of closing a tape deck—whether a SoundAbout or tape player—distinctive smells of booklets, and the weight of placing the needle on vinyl grooves produce a unique first sound unreachable by any streaming platform.

Older generations grew up watching film end credits to absorb the dedication behind filmmaking. Similarly, music listeners find joy in reading album credits revealing those behind production and artist acknowledgments—a pleasure younger listeners may not understand, as tactile aesthetics have diminished in importance.

Media and Musical Art Aesthetics in the Analog Era

Back in the 1980s and 1990s, waiting to hear a song or album meant counting days and time. Requesting a DJ to play a song was the easiest free way, but owning singles or albums meant waiting for official announcements from labels. Music videos also required countdowns before airing on domestic channels like Thai Sky TV, Channel V, or international channels like MTV.

I routinely waited for Tower Records in Siam Square to open on release days to buy new singles or albums among many strangers eager to hear new music quickly, often skipping extra classes. This led to friendships lasting decades. I had friends from other schools with whom I’d spend hours on landlines discussing favorite bands. I recall the thrill after paying, unwrapping album plastic, reading booklets, inserting tapes, and listening immediately among crowds doing the same.

Countless times, I bought albums or singles of bands unknown to me, drawn by cover art or song titles, sometimes liking the music, sometimes not. Listening was a gamble, heavily influenced by marketing, making album artwork and booklet design critical in my formative years.

Nostalgia Trend

Before streaming and smartphones, music lovers shared experiences where music was more than sound but a multi-sensory event. We stored vinyl, CDs, and tapes neatly, had dedicated listening rooms with quality sound systems or at least decent players in living rooms. In today’s fast-moving world, such spaces vanish, replaced by cloud storage, streaming platforms, smartphones, and fashionable headphones replacing expensive players.

Dedicated spaces for immersive music enjoyment are no longer necessary because we can listen anywhere without waiting; singles and albums are instantly available wherever we have a smartphone and headphones. The needle once tracing vinyl grooves is now just a finger swiping screens to choose any song.

Research shows that under-30s, influenced by older generations’ tactile aesthetics, feel cultural nostalgia and seek such experiences, driving increased spending on vinyl, CDs, and tapes. Consequently, vintage media prices have surged dramatically.

The Recording Industry Association of America (RIAA) confirms vinyl sales surpassed CD revenue for the first time since 1987, starting around 2020-2021 and rising since. Discogs, a major vinyl marketplace, reports a significant increase in buyers under 30 purchasing new and used vinyl. Younger listeners don’t just buy old records for entertainment but study them, especially musicians seeking subtle sound details that streaming can’t provide.

Misunderstandings About Aesthetics and Desire for Ownership Over Renting

A study published in the Journal of Popular Music Studies discusses "Curatorial Anxiety," the stress of excessive choice on streaming platforms, affecting not only music but global platforms like Netflix, Prime, Disney+, Apple TV, where users struggle to decide what to watch among overwhelming options and often rely on trends over critical artistic evaluation.

Dating apps like Tinder force users to strategize whom to date—whether for one-night stands or long-term relationships. Platforms like OnlyFans offer so many choices that users become confused about what constitutes good sexual experiences. These shifts reshape real-world perceptions into virtual ones, distorting aesthetic appreciation almost irreversibly.

The abundance of choices directly impacts thinking about what is good, bad, or quality, causing confusion in aesthetic judgment. Importantly, modern users feel streaming makes them 'renters' rather than 'owners'.

Touching vinyl or CDs, unwrapping, placing them on players, or opening booklets to read lyrics are 'rituals' that transform music listening into a meaningful, intentional activity beyond pressing a screen button. These evoke dopamine-fueled happiness unfamiliar to younger generations, motivating them to pay for these pleasures. This underpins the Superfan Economy phenomenon.

Gen Z music fans find album artwork useful as personal décor reflecting identity and taste when displayed or used as social media backgrounds on TikTok or Instagram. Loyal fans understand streaming royalties provide little income to less popular artists, so purchasing limited-edition tangible items like vinyl or CDs directly supports those artists, something digital media cannot offer.

Into the Era Where Superfans Market Better Than Labels

Li Jin, author of The Passion Economy and the Future of Work (2020) —a book blending research and statistics—reveals the rapid growth of the 'Passion Economy,' driven by digital platforms enabling superfans to monetize unique skills and passions.

Further, Axios Media Trends reports a significant rise in full-time 'digital creator' jobs in the U.S., from 200,000 in 2020 to 1.5 million in 2024—7.5 times growth in just four years. This niche economic model fuels the Superfan Economy, emphasizing intangible marketing and individual creativity over mass appeal.

Engagement-driven marketing has led to unprecedented growth in meaningless or 'junk' content. Even if some platforms aim to provide educational or entertaining content, keeping up with junk content is nearly impossible. This content, while thoughtless, generates smiles and laughter, saturating the media landscape.This phenomenon critically damages aesthetics impossible in the analog era.

The group countering pop culture's empty content causing 'brain rot' among younger generations, especially Gen Alpha, is superfan creators. They channel deep passion for tangible aesthetics into communities producing new, beneficial content for artists and themselves. Superfan creators are central to this shift, building deep, straightforward relationships with niche audiences.

Growth of the Music Industry Driven by 'Superfans'

According to Luminate's mid-2024 music report, over 34,000 artists have streaming counts between 1 and 50 million, a 5% increase from last year. Sixty-two percent of these artists self-release their work, reflecting the rise of niche fan groups and superfans boosting streaming numbers. This growth is stepwise, as superfans know wider recognition for their favorite artists paves the way for increased earnings, mirroring analog-era strategies.

Superfans play two key roles:Superfan BuyersandSuperfan Creators. 

On average, superfan buyers spend about $1,000 annually—80% more than typical fans. This means an artist with just 100 loyal superfan buyers can earn a sustainable income.

Superfan creators are devoted fans generating income from unique ideas, creating special experiences, products, and fan-driven content. MIDiA Research in 2025 highlights superfans’ systematic role in trendsetting. Chuckel Horton, founder of Fave, a fan merchandise marketplace, states, “The dedication superfans have for their groups surpasses consumer influence in any other industry by far.”

In 2020, BTS’s superfan group ARMY raised $1 million, matching Black Lives Matter donations to aid African Americans victimized by police violence in the U.S., demonstrating superfans’ potent influence.

A case study of a superfan who, despite having no stock market shares, directly influenced artist promotion is Ed Sheeran's 10th anniversary celebration of his album X. Atlantic Records executives recognized superfans’ extraordinary influence in revenue generation. Partnering with Fave, they organized simultaneous decade-anniversary events in Paris, Rio de Janeiro, Munich, and Manila, understanding that grasping every nuance of the artist ensured global fan satisfaction.

Atlantic Records entrusted superfans to organize events end-to-end: pitching ideas, securing venues, designing merchandise, producing promotional videos, arranging tribute shows, distributing souvenirs, and even creating special menu items matching album themes.

Post-event surveys showed 99% attendee satisfaction, while the label benefited from paying superfans far less than professional organizers.

Before social media propelled the entertainment industry, 'mini showcases' regularly promoted new albums. These party-like events invited celebrities and media, premiered new songs, and concluded with artist performances to whet appetites.

Such events required significant funds. When artists seriously backed an album, they toured mini showcases internationally. Conservative business-style event planning risked uncertain returns, essentially a gamble.

Turnstile: A Niche Band Thriving Thanks to Superfans

Turnstile is a hardcore punk band, but blending indie rock, alternative rock, pop, indie dance, and jazz gives them a unique identity fitting contemporary pop culture, where sticking to one genre may no longer satisfy a solid fan base. Their style has created a new economic value through niche fan communities.

Although Turnstile’s streaming numbers are high relative to similar bands, their label Roadrunner knows their loyal fanbase can generate tangible ownership value. The band releases limited-edition colored vinyls, confident superfans will pay for tangible ownership.

Merchandise, especially band or tour shirts designed as vintage styles, have skyrocketed in resale value. High vinyl sales, often bought for collection and speculation, propel the band’s album sales rapidly onto Billboard charts.

This strategy spares Turnstile from exhausting touring. Their multiple Grammy nominations reflect marketing expansion from niche fans to mainstream by elevating them from conservative hardcore to liberal hardcore. Their album Glow On sold exceptionally well in America, mostly to loyal younger fans. Regardless of concert location or travel difficulty, Turnstile’s audiences never dwindle, and their live shows maintain intense energy throughout.

Tiny Desk Concerts: A Musical Reflection of the Superfan Economy

Tiny Desk is a show revealing fans’ true influence on the music industry.The show is simple—no host, no ceremony, no complex sets or instruments. Camera angles create intimacy, like watching at someone's small office desk. This gimmick easily turns viewers unfamiliar with bands into fans through creative production.

Tiny Desk Concerts began in 2008 by Bob Boilen, former host of All Songs Considered, and Stephen Thompson, music editor, both at NPR. The idea sparked at South by Southwest in Austin, Texas, when they were frustrated by a folk singer Laura Gibson's show in a bar drowned out by basketball cheers.

Stephen suggested to Bob, “We should have her play at your desk,” which became the genesis of something much bigger. One month later, Laura Gibson performed live at NPR headquarters in Washington, D.C., using just one microphone and two video cameras. The name "Tiny Desk" comes not from Bob’s desk but from his past band Tiny Desk Unit, a post/punk/new wave group.

Neither Bob nor Stephen are superfans of any particular band. Though the show started from Laura Gibson’s performance, they never claimed to be her superfans. What unites them is seeing an opportunity to make music, of any genre, accessible in the simplest format. In short, Bob and Stephen are superfans of universal music.

Over 17 years, these NPR employees have transformed superfans’ economic value from abstract to tangible, changing music consumption culture. Fans of featured bands enjoy intimate performances unavailable elsewhere, while unfamiliar viewers discover new favorites.

This show’s format relies on mutual benefit: NPR earns from social media views; artists gain unique performance experiences. For A-list musicians, it offers a relaxed break from polished large-scale concerts. For indie or emerging artists, it’s a clever chance to grow fanbases, encouraging greater spending on music, merchandise, and concert tickets, as small shows spark interest in full concerts. Recently, even rock legend Robert Plant of Led Zeppelin performed on Tiny Desk, garnering millions of views within two days.

Japan: The Kingdom of Superfans Worldwide

Japan leads the phenomenon of superfans creating economic value for the music industry and national income unlike any other country. Empirically, Japanese artists are highly committed to distributing their work regardless of mass or niche appeal.

Commonly, Japanese musicians self-produce and distribute their music. Street musicians in Tokyo and provinces often have tapes and CDs for immediate sale if listeners like their work. Though unknown compared to mainstream artists, as independents without labels, they essentially run their own mobile labels. Nearly every band tours—from municipal street stages to underground clubs—each with its own fanbase.

Though indie artist fanbases in Japan may be small, collectively they are substantial. This forms a subculture called Cool Japan, an economy fueled by superfans of independent artists without label promotion. Japan’s superfan economy involves not just buying products but deep, loyal artist-fan relationships.

Above ground, economic loyalty is seen in the idol industry, e.g., AKB48, Nogizaka46, or Johnny & Associates. Fans not only follow but invest in artists’ growth and fame via marketing strategies like Senbatsu Sōsenkyo (election voting system).

In idol fan culture, rare, limited-edition, or artist-produced goods (with or without contracts) generate substantial revenue. Sales tied to special events—handshake tickets, exclusive photos, two-shot photos, photobooks, fan meetings—stimulate superfans to collect multiple items. A successful strategy is fans buying tens or hundreds of CDs to gain event participation rights.

Paid fan clubs offer early news, best concert seats, and exclusive merchandise. Fans willingly pay for high-quality goods like figures and cosplay, fostering personal subcultures like Otaku groups—top spenders in this industry. Notably, 'Dōjinshi' (fan-made creative markets) thrive with active trading and group formation among enthusiasts, showing deeper idol culture engagement beyond mere consumption.

From personal experience, Japan ranks among the highest producers of merchandise in the global music industry. Popular bands release abundant merchandise for fans to choose from, who eagerly await and countdown releases to be first buyers.

At major concerts or global festivals in Japan, merchandise zones are vast compared to other countries, with thousands queuing daily for 2-3 hours or even 4-5 hours for limited-edition items. Fans willingly pay and wait. Recently, Japan’s top boy band Snow Man opened a pop-up store at Bangkok’s EmQuartier, where scheduled purchase queues maintained order and enhanced merchandise and artist value.

Ultimate Loyalty Expressed in Oasis’s Live ’25 Reunion Tour

The economic news site Novuna reported astonishingly large sums spent during Oasis’s 17-day UK concert tour. Fans reportedly spent over £1.06 billion (about 45.4 billion baht), covering tickets, lodging, food, transport, and merchandise. The best indicator of superfans’ economic value is their merchandise spending.

Novuna notes that out of this total, Oasis fans spent roughly £188 million (about 8 billion baht) on merchandise—hats, jigsaw bags, mugs, limited-edition vinyl, tote bags, posters, lanyards, keychains, and notably, newly designed band and tour shirts, including Manchester City-style jerseys, jackets, and hoodies priced £40-£90 (approx. 1,700–3,900 baht).

Combining ticket and merchandise sales, fans spent about £400 million (18.4 billion baht). Merchandise sales alone were around £188 million (8 billion baht).

These figures cover only six official UK and Ireland pop-up stores, excluding other countries like the U.S., Australia, South Korea, Tokyo (Asia), and South America. The Guardian reported Oasis’s reunion tour as one of the highest-grossing in merchandise sales and domestic economic stimulation in music history.

Oasis’s reunion tour transcended music, showcasing fans’ deep love and a global nostalgic yearning, especially during Britpop’s peak in the early to mid-90s, about 30 years ago. This nostalgia is embedded in merchandise fabric and design, evoking the 90s, notably T-shirts reflecting key historic events like the 1996 Knebworth concert, letting fans feel they own a piece of music history. Japan is praised for evoking shared nostalgia through ads, exclusive shows, events, billboards, and backdrops designed to make fans feel part of a revived past.

Superfan Patronage Economics Manifested in Vintage Merchandise Value

All evidence shows Superfan Economy’s deep link between personal fan experiences and artists, encompassing not just beloved songs but treasured memories—joyful or painful—that fans recall through favored artists’ music. Economic value arises from internal nostalgia marking life’s pivotal moments, as music uniquely reaches emotional turning points.

It’s unsurprising that vinyl and tangible items revive when streaming’s intangible, ephemeral nature lacks physical touch or the scent and visual beauty of album art booklets. People willingly pay high prices to reclaim those past feelings and memories in collectible form.

Superfans from the 1970s seek authentic band merchandise from Led Zeppelin, Deep Purple, KISS, and others. Those from the 1980s desire original-era merchandise from Guns N’ Roses, Iron Maiden, AC/DC, Van Halen, Madonna, Michael Jackson. 1990s superfans want gear from Nirvana, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Oasis, Blur, Nine Inch Nails, Rage Against the Machine, and more.

Vintage merchandise prices steadily rise if in excellent condition. A 1967 Grateful Dead shirt auctioned for about 635,000 baht. A Run-D.M.C. shirt from a My Adidas collaboration in the 1980s fetched about 470,000 baht. Limited crew-only Nirvana In Utero Tour long-sleeve shirts, with only about 70 worldwide, are collectors’ holy grails, selling for millions of baht. Promotional or rare Kurt Cobain-worn Nirvana shirts range from 360,000 to 720,000 baht.

Kurt Cobain’s 1959 Martin D-18E guitar, played on MTV Unplugged in New York, sold for 220 million baht (6.01 million USD) on June 20, 2020, making it the most expensive guitar auctioned worldwide. Only 300 Martin D-18Es were made.

This guitar’s desirability stems not only from the instrument itself but also from its case decorated with Poison Idea posters, used guitar strings, and a small bag inside. The current owner is Peter Freedman, an Australian businessman and founder of RØDE Microphones, a world-renowned microphone manufacturer. He said he bought it not just for collection but to exhibit globally, aiming to raise funds to support financially struggling artists and the music industry.

Today, vintage band apparel and merchandise markets, including niche bands, have superfans willing to pay to collect. For superfans, these shirts aren’t mere clothing but historical records and personal experiences. Owning them revives lost life soundtracks. Similarly, guitars and other items carry not just identity but emotional value beyond any price.

‘Superfans’ Create Historical Value Through Passionate Spending

The Superfan Economy phenomenon marks a return to sensual charm and historical value, where millions are spent not for entertainment but to acquire tangible 'ownership' and 'memories.' In an era of instant access, superfans drive the industry by directly supporting beloved artists, setting trends, and redirecting music toward a time when loyalty and passion outweighed streaming numbers in immeasurable ways.