KWAME Mensah followed the familiar Ghanaian arc of musical promise. His talent emerged early, won neighbourhood admiration, and earned parental support rooted in faith and optimism.

 Music was not a gamble. It was purpose. What no one explained was that purpose does not pay studio bills, fund promotion, or cover rent.

His journey mirrors that of countless Ghanaian artistes who enter the industry believing talent will eventually take care of everything else. It rarely does. Ghana celebrates its musicians loudly, but the structures needed to sustain them economically are weak. 

Despite constant pressure to pursue safer careers, many young artistes still choose music, stepping into an industry powered by passion, persistence, and very little financial certainty.

The early career of a Ghanaian artiste is defined by hustle in its most unglamorous form. Long nights in small studios. Borrowed beats. Free collaborations. Projects financed by favours and faith. Across places like Madina, Suame, and Kasoa, aspiring musicians perform at community events where applause replaces payment. 

Exposure is treated as currency. A short radio interview feels like a breakthrough. Silence from record labels is standard.

The logic is simple and seductive. One song can change everything.

Sometimes, it almost does.

 Visibility Without Income

A song gains traction. Radio presenters start calling. The artiste’s name circulates. Family pride grows. Public expectations rise quickly. At this stage, many artistes feel pressured to look successful. Better clothes, upgraded phones, carefully curated lifestyles become part of the job. Image begins to work overtime.

This phase is dangerous. Visibility increases, but income often does not. Artistes begin living the dream before the dream starts paying. Success becomes something to perform rather than something to bank.

 Fame Without Financial Security

In Accra and Kumasi, the illusion of prosperity is easy to maintain. Music dominates social life. Songs trend daily. Ghanaian artistes enjoy loyal audiences. From the outside, the industry appears vibrant and profitable.

Behind the scenes, many musicians are financially stretched. Fame delivers recognition, not stability. Streaming numbers rise. International listeners grow. Bank balances remain stubbornly unchanged. Applause replaces payment. Belief fills the gap left by income.

  Royalties That Rarely Reward

At the centre of this frustration is the royalty system. In theory, airplay should generate income. In reality, it disappoints more often than it delivers. Artistes such as Fancy Gadam, Celestine Donkor, and the late Dada KD publicly expressed dissatisfaction with their royalty earnings. Stories of musicians receiving less than GHc 1000 after years of consistent radio play are common.

Many established artistes now advise younger ones not to rely on royalties at all. The system, they say, is unpredictable and ineffective.

 GHAMRO and the Trust Deficit

Much of the criticism is directed at the Ghana Music Rights Organisation,(GHAMRO), which is mandated to collect and distribute royalties. Over the years, artistes have raised concerns about delayed payments, limited transparency, and weak tracking systems. 

Many say they do not understand how their music usage is monitored or how payouts are calculated. Some report lifetime royalty earnings amounting to only a few thousand cedis.

At the same time, allegations persist that some broadcasters and venues avoid proper licensing, shrinking the revenue pool available to musicians. The result is a system that inspires frustration rather than confidence.

 The Global Comparison Problem

When Ghana’s royalty framework is compared to international markets, the disparity becomes obvious. In more structured music industries, a single placement in a film, television show, or advertisement can earn more than years of local airplay in Ghana.

For artistes whose music travels globally and shapes culture beyond national borders, this gap feels especially unfair. The influence is international. The compensation remains local and limited.

 Streaming and the Myth of Digital Salvation

Digital streaming once looked like the solution. Platforms such as Spotify, Apple Music, Audiomack, Boomplay, and YouTube expanded the reach of Ghanaian music almost overnight. Audiences multiplied. Optimism followed.

Then the payouts arrived.

Streaming economics proved harsh. Spotify pays fractions of a dollar per stream. Apple Music pays slightly more. African-focused platforms often pay even less. A song with one hundred thousand streams may impress online, but it usually generates income barely sufficient to cover recording costs or transport to shows. Visibility improved. Sustainability did not.

 Selling the Future to Survive the Present

Under financial pressure, some artistes choose to sell their music catalogues to foreign companies. The deals offer immediate relief but come at a steep cost. Ownership and long-term earnings are sacrificed for short-term survival.

It is not an ideal choice. It is often the only one available.

 An Industry Rich in Culture, Poor in Structure

Ghana’s music industry is creatively rich but structurally weak. Despite a heritage spanning Highlife, Hiplife, Drill, and Afrobeats, support systems remain limited. Music publishers are scarce. Performance rights enforcement is inconsistent. Labels with serious investment power are few.

As a result, artistes are forced to manage themselves. They handle contracts, branding, marketing, accounting, and legal matters with little formal training. Creativity becomes just one responsibility among many.

 Piracy and the Cost of Informality

Piracy further undermines earnings. Music spreads freely through Bluetooth transfers, WhatsApp sharing, and informal downloads. Physical sales are undervalued. Digital literacy around rights, metadata, and monetisation remains low.

For many artistes, earning from music feels less like a business plan and more like a gamble.

  Surviving on Stage and Sponsorship

In practice, most Ghanaian musicians survive through live performances and brand partnerships. Concerts, festivals, corporate events, and seasonal shows provide the bulk of income. December is especially critical, often determining whether an artiste ends the year stable or in debt.

Brand endorsements, merchandise, influencer campaigns, and acting roles are no longer optional extras. They are financial necessities.

This model, however, is fragile. A cancelled show, an economic downturn, or a shift in audience taste can erase months of preparation. Emerging artistes suffer the most, competing for limited slots while established names dominate event calendars.

 What Real Reform Looks Like

Sustainable progress requires intentional reform. Royalty systems must be audited, digitised, and made transparent. Music usage should be tracked in real time. Artistes need early education in music business fundamentals, digital rights management, and metadata.

Government and private sector partnerships could reposition the creative industry as a serious economic contributor through tax incentives for compliant venues, support for publishers, touring grants, and structured international promotion.

Artistes themselves must also adapt by diversifying income streams, forming cooperatives, seeking legal guidance, and prioritising ownership and long-term planning.

  Still Singing for Tomorrow

Global demand for African music continues to grow, and Ghanaian songs now travel further than ever before. Yet the contradiction remains unresolved. The music generates immense cultural and economic value worldwide, while many of its creators struggle at home.

Still, the beat continues. Voices rise from neighbourhoods like Nima. Dreams persist. Until the economics of artistry begin to reflect the cultural power of the music itself, many Ghanaian artistes will keep singing not only for recognition, but simply for tomorrow.