When Spotify Was Scraped

Streaming promised convenience, but scraping proved it didn’t end piracy—it only reshaped it.

A hacktivist group calling itself Anna’s Archive recently claimed it scraped almost the entire Spotify catalog—around 86 million tracks, covering roughly 99% of all music streams on the platform. Not removed. Not deleted. Just copied, at massive scale.

They framed it as preservation. An archive. Almost like a Wikipedia offline dump—but for music.

And that comparison is tempting. Wikipedia openly allows full database dumps. Knowledge is meant to be shared, copied, preserved. No royalties. No artists losing income. No complicated middle ground. Music is different.

Every track has a creator behind it. A livelihood. Rights. Royalties—small as they already are. So while Wikipedia sharing feels clean, music sharing is messy. Someone always pays the price, and it’s usually the artist.

Still, the scrape exposed something uncomfortable.

Spotify is known for being one of the most paranoid platforms. Locked-down accounts. DRM. Aggressive bot detection. AI-driven defenses against fraud, fake streams, and abuse. And yet, it still happened. Which makes you wonder what was really being protected.

It feels like a platform busy securing war defenses—AI battles, data battles, behavior battles—while missing the obvious truth. If music is streamable, it is copyable. There is no firewall against sound.

It’s like a house with every door locked, even the CR, but the windows left open—because people still need air. Access is the window. Streaming is the window. And scraping simply climbed through it.

Streaming was supposed to solve piracy. No more downloading. No more hoarding MP3s. Just press play and move on. But instead of killing piracy, it only reshaped it. From individual downloads to automated harvesting. From one song to entire catalogs.

And this is where regret enters.

Because when everything is rented, nothing is yours. You don’t own the music. You don’t keep it. You don’t pass it on. You can’t ask an artist to sign your phone. You can’t hand down a playlist. You can’t keep a song when a platform changes its rules or disappears.

That’s why physical media is quietly coming back. Vinyl. Cassette. CD. Even simple MP3 files. Not because they’re trendy, but because ownership matters.

A record can be signed. A CD can age with you. An MP3 works offline, free from algorithms and policy shifts. Streaming promised convenience, but people want permanence.

In the end, Spotify didn’t solve piracy. It just closed one door and opened another—leading people back to physical media, digital files, and the human need to keep what they love.

Some things shouldn’t be rented forever. Some things deserve to stay.

Boycott Spotify.
Uninstall Spotify.
Support Bandcamp artists.
Install Bandcamp.

⌨ ᴛʸᵖⁱⁿᵍ ᴏᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ʙˡᵘᵉ ᵈᵃʳᵉᵐ ᵐᵘˢⁱᶜ ᵇˡᵒᵍ

Digital Albums by Darem Placer on Bandcamp
Listen. Buy. Download.

Redirected by Spotify

When streams don’t support artists anymore, the real issue isn’t numbers. It’s where the value quietly ends up.

I already pulled all my music out of Spotify. So technically, I should not care anymore. I am no longer chasing streams, playlists, or numbers. I am out—free from the hustle and hassle.

But seeing how the system actually works—the unfairness, the strange logic, the quiet monkey business—I cannot stay silent. Being out does not mean being blind. This is why I still choose to speak, and why I believe Spotify deserves to be boycotted.

I did not leave Spotify with drama. No announcement. No rant. I just stopped.

Back then, I honestly thought the rule was harsher than it really was. I believed you had to hit 1,000 streams every single month. That would have been brutal. Anyone would call that unfair.

Later, I understood it better. It is not monthly. It is cumulative. A rolling twelve-month window. Hit 1,000 total streams anytime within a year, and the track becomes eligible.

Once that is clear, the rule feels manageable. One thousand streams is not a mountain. It is a few listens a day. If the music has direction and the artist actually moves—shares it, talks about it, shows up—it is doable.

So no, the rule is not unfair to artists who try.

What bothered me came after that.

If a track stays below 1,000 streams, the money from those listens does not wait. It does not pile up. It does not respect intent. It gets redirected. People listened to your music. The value was real. But the payout went somewhere else, to artists who were already above the line.

I agreed to that. Every artist did. We clicked yes because there was no other door. That makes it legal. It does not make it clean.

I come from a time when one album sold meant one artist supported. Even one buyer mattered. The exchange was simple and honest. Streaming changed that.

Now attention itself is currency. Even unpaid attention. Even tracks that earn nothing still feed the system—data, growth, market value. Your music may not pay you, but it still works for the platform. And the platform does not share your values. It shares its investors’ values.

That is where it started to feel wrong.

What pushed me to speak is deeper than streams or payouts. Spotify, directly or indirectly, helps fund Helsing (a European defense tech company developing AI systems for modern warfare). Once I saw that, the 1K debate stopped mattering.

Music is personal. Releasing it is a choice. I do not want my work contributing to something I fundamentally disagree with.

So this is not about numbers or payout formulas. It is about where the value generated by music ends up.

Boycotting Spotify, for me, is simply a line I chose to draw.

I would rather have fewer listeners and clean hands than wider reach.

That choice is not for everyone.

But it is mine.

🔲 UNINSTALL SPOTIFY.
🔲 BOYCOTT SPOTIFY.
🔲 CHOOSE PEACE.

Spotify artist profile page showing Darem Placer with zero monthly listeners and a profile photo of a person wearing a jersey labeled THEREM number 10
No music. No listener. No war.

⌨ ᴛʸᵖⁱⁿᵍ ᴏᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ʙˡᵘᵉ ᵈᵃʳᵉᵐ ᵐᵘˢⁱᶜ ᵇˡᵒᵍ

Digital Albums by Darem Placer on Bandcamp
daremplacer.bandcamp.com