How Live Nation Hijacked EDM: The $17B Festival Monopoly Fans Can’t Escape
EDM isn’t just music—it’s a product, sold through a machine. Live Nation built that machine. From Creamfields to EDC Vegas, they’re the puppeteers of lineups, the gatekeepers to stages and the silent shareholders in your favorite artist’s brand. Here’s how they metastasized power—and why both DJs and fans should be alarmed.
How Live Nation Built the Festival Machine That Owns the Music, the Artists, and You
EDM isn’t just music—it’s a product, sold through a machine. Live Nation built that machine. From Creamfields to EDC Vegas, they’re the puppeteers of lineups, the gatekeepers to stages and the silent shareholders in your favorite artist’s brand. Here’s how they metastasized power—and why both DJs and fans should be alarmed.
The Deep Dive: Live Nation & EDM
Live Nation doesn’t just control festivals. They control the idea of what a music experience is supposed to feel like. And they’ve been building this monopoly for decades—right under our bright-eyed and bushy-tailed raving noses.
History & Evolution: From Promoter to Puppetmaster
1996–2005: Born as SFX Entertainment under Robert F.X. Sillerman, whose Wall Street wet dream was to consolidate independent promoters into one mega entity.
2006–2012: Bought House of Blues, Creamfields, and HARD Events—the EDM foothold was in full effect.
2010: The Live Nation + Ticketmaster merger became official. Welcome to total vertical integration: venues, tickets, artists, data—everything.
2013–Present: Strategic “partnerships” like Insomniac cemented Live Nation’s control over the entire EDM lifecycle.
This wasn’t an expansion. It was a corporate occupation.
The Live Nation Music Control Web: Festivals, Venues, and Artists
Venues:
Live Nation owns or holds exclusive booking rights to 338–377 venues globally like the Fillmore SF, Ziggo Dome, 3Arena, Hollywood Palladium, House of Blues, and every amphitheater your mom posts throwback photos from. If your artist is touring, they’re likely passing through Live Nation’s owned gates.
Festivals:
EDC, Creamfields, HARD Summer, Bonnaroo, Lollapalooza, Reading & Leeds, Isle of Wight, Rock in Rio, BottleRock, and need I carry on? What looks like diversity is actually centralized programming behind one curtain.
Artists:
So, Live Nation manages or contracts 400+ artists, with 90+ managers in-house. The high-profile “360 deals” (U2, Madonna, Jay-Z) are just the tip of what they control.
Fans:
Well, the own the data of 100M+ fans and do whatever they shall please with it. That’s not good for us, artists, or music.
In EDM? Artists often sign away touring, merch, and even branding rights just to get a fucking time slot. A “worthy” time slot at EDC could cost you your name, your sound, your rights, and your soul.
The Monopolized Money Machine
Revenue Source - 2023 Earnings
Concerts $13.5 Billion
Ticketing (Ticketmaster) $2.5 Billion
Sponsorship/Ads $1.1 Billion
Total $17.6 Billion+
Live Nation doesn’t just make money on the music. They make money on everything surrounding it—including you.
They’ve Got You Down to a Science
Live Nation doesn’t just own the shows. They’ve mapped your behavior, your psychology, and your spending triggers.
RFID wristbands track where you are, what you buy, who you watch, when you leave.
Dynamic ticket pricing spikes your FOMO into submission.
App push notifications are timed to your exact dopamine window.
Pre-sales, VIP tiers, early access, wristband-only perks—all designed to activate reward centers in your brain.
We could go as far as saying Live Nation doesn’t sell tickets - they sell dopamine hits. They prey on scarcity, status, and speed. Flash sales. Waitlists. “Only 4 VIP Sky Decks left!” It’s psychological warfare disguised as a presale link.
Your wristband isn’t just a pass—it’s a tracker. Your favorite set? Data point. That text alert pushing the next DJ drop? Algorithmically timed.
They’ve studied us. FOMO. Nostalgia. PLUR. Our desire to feel like we belong, that the rave is still counterculture, that this show will be the one that changes our life. And, it probably will… but, they’ll bill you for it in six different ways AND sell your data. Live Nation is not your friend.
But… the Music Still Slaps. Right?
Yes. This is the wild part: the music always has been and always will be great. The artists? Mostly still real. Still trying to push creative boundaries. Still hungry. But they’re boxed in.
If they want a mainstage slot, they likely had to:
Give up creative control
Avoid certain indie promoters
Align with the “Live Nation-approved” narrative
They’re not sellouts. They’re survivors. In a system that treats music like merch and art like ad space, some artists are just trying to stay afloat and live the “average life”, which is completely okay.
The Absurdity We Keep Buying—Because It’s Still Worth It
We know the 20-30% service fee is criminal. We know the merch is overpriced. We know we’re being watched, tracked, nudged, and profiled. But we pay anyway.
Because it’s still magic. Because being at a show still feels like church. Because dancing at 2AM reaching for those laser beams still reminds us we’re alive. Because no algorithm can replace that one drop that probably makes you cry.
So we go. We pay. We participate—even when we know the system is rigged.
Not because we’re blind. But because we deserve the joy, even when it's been commercialized.
Fan Impact: You’re Not Just the Audience—You’re the Asset
Average ticket base price: $40
Final checkout after fees and “upgrades”: $120–$300+
You’re the product, and they’re reselling you to sponsors, advertisers, brands.
Discovery is no longer organic. You’re being funneled to who they want you to hear.
And all your emotion? Captured, sold, retargeted.
fyi: Antitrust Warnings and Regulatory Heat
DOJ lawsuits and UK investigations are probing monopoly behavior.
Live Nation insists it’s about “fan experience,” not vertical domination.
Meanwhile, competitors can’t compete, artists can’t breathe, and fans can’t afford.
So What Do We Do?
This isn’t a call to cancel live music. It’s not even a call to cancel Live Nation cause shit don’t work like that I am sure you all know. It’s a call to take back our music narrative and to call Live Nation UP to do better.
For artists:
Avoid 360 traps
Retain ownership
Decentralize your booking power
For fans:
Support indie promoters
Demand transparency
Take off your RFID wristband after the fest
Talk about this. Loudly. Online. In real life.
Let’s be clear: Live Nation isn’t the only problem
CTS Eventim, Superstruct, AEG, and a swarm of smaller “independent” players are doing the same thing—just wearing different logos.
Same consolidation tactics. Same festival takeovers. Same shady surveillance and data deals. And here’s the real kicker: they often share the same shareholders.
This means your so-called “choice” between fests or ticketing platforms? It’s basically an illusion. A different mask on the same face. A different checkout screen with the same payout destination.
So whether it’s a Superstruct-owned “boutique fest” or an AEG-run amphitheater tour, the profits still funnel up to the same institutional investors who’ve never danced a day in their lives.
The house always wins. Unless we start calling it out—by name.
Final Takeaway
Live Nation didn’t just build a music empire. They engineered an entertainment matrix. A corporate funnel disguised as culture. A monopoly that sells rebellion. A machine that profits off your passion.
But passion is still ours, too. There’s more of us than them. So… TALK ABOUT IT. Demand changes. Tweet at them. LinkedIn this shit. Get on TikTok and rant (heyo that’s coming soon). Get on YouTube and explain your experience. Fuck it, write a blog like it’s 2001. I’ll help.
Cause… the shareholders, well, they own the internet and things can oddly disappear, information can be changed without us noticing, the news section is oddly populated with only big news sources, there’s these funny changes here with the US internet (more later), and it… IS ALL RIGGED.
So, we fucking talk on social media — the platform given to us by these geniuses where anomalies happen suddenly and social media users are quicker than the software engineering team. Use it. A lot. Who cares if you post a lot. Just vent about it like we did on Facebook a long time ago.
Be loud. Be weird. Be free. ✌️
The $238 Fee That Unmasked Music’s Corporate Machine
Four Paul McCartney tickets with my dad: $1,014
Ticket fees: $238
Total: $1,252
I am done pretending this is just about a ticket. Ohhh baby, it’s not.
Four Paul McCartney tickets with my dad: $1,014
Ticket service fees: $238
Total: $1,252
Image description: 4 aisle seat tickets for Paul McCartney at Coors Field on October 11, 2025
My dad paid—because seeing live music together is our special tradition we’ve done almost every year together since 2003.
We saw Paul McCartney in Las Vegas in 2004. Humorously, my dutch boyfriend was there (we were 17 lol). My mom was there. My dad cried during "Hey Jude" — I think that was the first time I saw him do that. Now, two decades later, we’re going again. Probably for the last time cause I don’t know if you know how old The Beatles are.
I am beyond annoyed. I loathe this, like, a lot. Here I am on my punk rock pedestal saying “I’ve been saying this shit for 20 years but no one listens to me” whole spit. But, nah, I think it’s time I just crack this corrupt system wide open for all you curiously frustrated people.
And, I am done pretending this is just about a ticket. Ohhh baby, it’s not.
The crazy thing is I had this LinkedIn Post that popped. And, I’ve been on that oddly addicting platform for over 15 years and never have had a glimmer of a breakthrough post. But, when I mentioned my outrage with Live Nation because of HOW much they profit they receive and with what (their monopolies, data, ticketing, RFID wristbands, etc etc) it really struck a nerve.
So, let’s tear the roof off the music industry… shall we?
The System Behind the Fee
This isn’t about convenience. It’s about control. That service fee funds a sprawling corporate entertainment machine that:
Owns the artist
Owns the venue
Owns the festival
Owns the ticket
Owns the merch
Owns the data
And owns the algorithm that decides what you hear next
This is what I call the Cerulean Blue Effect in action: the illusion of choice, wrapped in a pleasant interface, concealing systemic control — and all rooted in the very real love fans have for the music. They’re not exploiting our apathy — they’re capitalizing on our passion.
Who Owns the Music Industry?
Each company’s ecosystem is self-sustaining, built to keep fans inside and artists on-brand. Here's how they operate:
🟢 Live Nation Entertainment
Owns: Ticketmaster, 400+ venues across 40+ countries, 100+ festivals, Front Line Management (over 250 artists), plus production, marketing, security, and concessions.
Stakeholders: Liberty Media (~30%), Vanguard, BlackRock, State Street.
Catalog Control: Holds stakes in licensing catalogs via artist management and publishing partnerships — influences what gets pushed in playlists and sync deals.
Fan Ecosystem:
Ticketmaster collects detailed buyer data, which feeds into Live Nation's ad tech for retargeting. Their mobile apps, loyalty programs, and RFID tech reinforce behavioral predictions, fueling dynamic ticket pricing, merch offers, and tour announcements tailored to your habits.Festivals: EDC, Lollapalooza, Bonnaroo, Governors Ball, BottleRock, Austin City Limits, Rolling Loud (partial deals).
Artist Deals: Madonna, Jay-Z, U2, Shakira, Blink-182, Logic, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Foo Fighters.
Rising Artists: Teddy Swims, Jessie Murph, KennyHoopla, Ice Spice, Peso Pluma, Chappell Roan.
🔵 AEG (Anschutz Entertainment Group)
Owns: 120+ venues globally, 30+ festivals, AXS ticketing, Goldenvoice, The O2 Arena, Crypto.com Arena, Dignity Health Sports Park, LA Live.
Stakeholders: Privately owned by Philip Anschutz; indirect ties through foundations and legacy investment structures.
Catalog Control: Goldenvoice promotes high-revenue legacy acts and newer signings; sync and brand tie-ins reinforce catalog monetization.
Fan Ecosystem:
AXS integrates with Clear biometrics and app ecosystems, leveraging facial recognition and location data to push VIP upgrades, early bird deals, and tiered experiences. AEG’s sports holdings allow for cross-promotional campaigns across fan demographics.Festivals: Coachella, Stagecoach, Firefly, All Points East, Hangout Fest.
Artist Focus: Taylor Swift, Beyoncé, Harry Styles, BLACKPINK, The Rolling Stones.
Rising Artists: Omar Apollo, Remi Wolf, Yves Tumor, Jean Dawson, Victoria Monét.
🟠 CTS Eventim
Owns: 200+ venues in Europe, 40+ major festivals, 60+ promoter and ticketing subsidiaries including See Tickets (UK/US), TicketOne (Italy), Ticketcorner (Switzerland).
Stakeholders: Klaus-Peter Schulenberg (~39%), BlackRock, Vanguard.
Catalog Control: Direct promoter-artist deals feed into broadcast licensing and sync rights through European broadcasters and digital platforms.
Fan Ecosystem:
Deep integration with See Tickets and Eventim analytics tools track purchase behavior across borders. Eventim-owned DSPs and ad networks help cross-sell experiences and monetize fan loyalty via tiered access, early access email programs, and behavioral coupons.Festivals: Rock am Ring, Hurricane, Southside, Love Supreme, Deichbrand, Airbeat One.
Artist Reach: Rammstein, David Garrett, Peter Maffay, Andrea Bocelli.
Rising Artists: Fred again.., Nia Archives, Paula Hartmann, LUNA, Schmyt.
🔴 Superstruct Entertainment
Owns: 85+ festivals, 15+ production companies, and venue partnerships worldwide.
Stakeholders: Providence Equity (founder), now KKR & CVC Capital.
Catalog Control: Partners with ID&T and Defqon.1 label projects; integrated with global electronic and techno publishing networks.
Fan Ecosystem:
Leverages loyalty wristband tech, brand activations, and international ticketing partnerships. Known for hyper-personalized email marketing and RFID-enhanced fan tracking at events, which is shared with brand sponsors for hyper-targeted post-festival engagement.Festivals: Sziget, Sonar, Boardmasters, Elrow, Wacken, Awakenings, Defqon.1, Mysteryland, Thunderdome (via ID&T).
Artist Focus: Carl Cox, Charlotte de Witte, Peggy Gou, Armin van Buuren, Tiësto.
Rising Artists: Héctor Oaks, LSDXOXO, VTSS, Anetha, SPFDJ, Chris Avantgarde.
How They Track and Control Fans
These companies don’t just promote shows — they profile your behavior and engineer your next experience. Here's how:
RFID Wristbands:
Used at most major festivals and venues to monitor where you go, how long you stay, what you buy, and who you interact with. This data is monetized through sponsor partnerships and targeted marketing.Dynamic Pricing:
Based on your browsing and buying history, ticket prices are adjusted in real time using AI — the more interest you show, the more you’ll pay.Behavioral Targeting:
Your activity on apps like Spotify, YouTube, and Instagram is cross-referenced with your ticketing history. Personalized ads are pushed to you when you're most likely to convert.Geo-fencing and Location Tracking:
Fans inside venues or festivals are digitally tagged for follow-up offers and artist-specific campaigns post-event.Data Partnerships:
Collaborations with platforms like Meta, Google, and Spotify let these companies track fans beyond the show — into your feed, your search history, and even your playlists.Fan Loyalty Algorithms:
Engagement scoring ranks how “valuable” you are as a consumer and serves you early access, exclusive merch drops, or VIP upgrades — all based on your data profile.
This isn't just about delivering great shows — it's about controlling the pipeline from discovery to transaction, all while building a predictive model of your musical life.
How the Ecosystem Feeds Itself
Each of these corporations has built a closed-loop entertainment empire where artists, venues, data, and content all feed into their own ecosystem — amplifying their power and market control.
Catalogs:
Stakeholders like Liberty Media, BlackRock, and KKR have a hand in both the ownership and distribution of massive music catalogs — from legacy icons to AI-trained up-and-comers. These catalogs aren’t just for listening; they’re mined for data, licensed for media, and used to train algorithms to predict what we’ll want next.Stakeholders:
Investment giants (Vanguard, CVC, State Street) profit from every ticket sold, stream played, ad viewed, and venue filled. The music becomes just one spoke in a financial flywheel turning toward quarterly gains.Fan Data:
All that biometric, behavioral, and purchase data? It feeds proprietary dashboards used to decide which artists get a push, which venues get bookings, and which fans are most profitable.Monetized Loyalty:
The more data you generate, the more you’re shaped into a 'fan type' — which triggers automated offers, early access invites, merch drops, and targeted content. This isn’t fandom. It’s segmentation.Platform Interlock:
These conglomerates collaborate with social media platforms, DSPs, merch vendors, and ad tech firms to circulate their artists, boost tours, and prioritize their properties algorithmically. Your Spotify suggestions and your YouTube ads are often just mirror reflections of what one of these giants is trying to sell you.
It’s not just a business. It’s a feedback loop of influence — a full-stack entertainment monopoly built on emotional connection, optimized by machine learning, and bankrolled by global investors.
Trapped In, Locked Out: The Artist Dilemma in the Corporate Music Machine
The music industry’s not just expensive for fans. It’s a trap for artists, too.
Whether you’re in the system or out of it — you’re losing.
If You’re In the System (Live Nation, AEG, Superstruct, etc):
You’re likely signed to a 360° deal. That means:
You don’t just give up streaming rights.
You give up cuts of touring, ticketing, merch, sync licensing, VIP, AND data.
You’re booked on festival circuits owned by your boss (Live Nation owns the festival, venue, ticketing system, and sometimes even your manager). You perform in a pre-engineered slot, surrounded by other “roster acts” to keep it all in-network.
You’re told it’s a career-maker. But here’s the truth:
You can’t negotiate set times
You can’t sell merch freely (many venues take a 15–25% cut)
You can’t bring your own openers
You’re forced to tour where it makes corporate sense — not where your fans actually live
You’re profitable. But you’re not free.
If You’re Outside the System:
Good luck.
Can’t book major venues — they’re owned by Live Nation or AEG
Can’t get prime festival slots — already spoken for by in-roster talent
Can’t run your own ticketing — you’ll be throttled by algorithms and platform limitations
Can’t get press — many outlets rely on relationships with the same corporate PR firms
Even worse?
Spotify and YouTube algorithms are trained to favor in-network artists
Discovery playlists are not neutral — they’re engineered funnels based on marketability, ad partnerships, and backend priorities
Touring independently costs more than it returns, especially with rising travel, hospitality, and insurance fees
So while corporate-backed dumb dubstep artists play random big shows for $75+ a ticket, other cooler artists — with real sound that isn’t a Bassnectar wannabe like we’re in 2013 — can’t even get booked cause it’s “just not the right vibe”.
The Result?
Mid-tier, algorithm-friendly acts flood the festival circuit
Real talent gets buried under marketing budgets
Ticket prices skyrocket, and fans get less while paying more
Fans settle for “just okay” live experiences because there’s no access to better ones
It’s a feedback loop:
Data → Drives funding → Drives festival slots → Drives ticket pushes → Feeds more data.
And if you’re not already inside? You’re outside the wall — unheard.
What Needs to Change?
Venue independence
Artist-first ticketing and merch splits
True platform transparency in discovery and streaming
Fan funding and direct artist support as a viable revenue model
Curated community events not controlled by Live Nation, AEG, or PE-backed collectives
My WORD IF IT MEANS ANYTHING
I’m not just calling this out — I’m tracking it. The only way past is through bitches — and we have to find a way to work together while holding big money and big data machines accountable.
Every backdoor deal. Every tour ad funnel. Every artist contract clause. Fans deserve affordable shows. Artists deserve more than exposure. And we all deserve to be treated better than whatever this data monster shit is.
This culture deserves clarity — and actual choice.
Maybe you heard it here first. Maybe you didn't. Does it matter?
—Stacy
THIS SHIT AINT FREE
✌️
THIS SHIT AINT FREE ✌️
Whatever Happened to PLUR? Ego Killed the Dance Music Star
Dance music saved us—the misfits, the dreamers, the ones who didn’t belong anywhere else. But somewhere along the way, the magic got lost, buried under clout, ego, and greed. This is my raw, unfiltered story of navigating the chaos, calling out the bullshit, and fighting to bring this community back to its roots. If you care about the soul of dance music, this one’s for you. Let’s fix this together.
Dance music saved us—the misfits, the dreamers, the ones who didn’t belong anywhere else. But somewhere along the way, the magic got lost, buried under clout, ego, and greed. This is my raw, unfiltered story of navigating the chaos, calling out the bullshit, and fighting to bring this community back to its roots. This is a cautionary tale of choosing love and hope over hate.
Here’s a shocking statement to the dance music community: Dance music changed mine and a lot of other ravers's lives. We are likely the misfits of our generation, we likely were bullied and were looking for a place we belonged, we all are probably neurodivergent in some way and either knew it or didn’t know it, and we all had varying addictions whether it was the music, the need to be around a ton of people and not alone, hustling drugs to make some easy cash to pay the bills, or, worse case scenario, you were actually addicted to drugs and it had an environment to support that addiction.
It was a magical time, place, and space filled with completely authentic representations of individuality in the most flamboyant ways possible. There were so many subcultures within the subculture and styles of fashion you would never see out in the public at that time or still to this day. We all embodied the PLUR mentality, which stands for Peace Love Unity Respect (we even have a cute handshake), and despite our individual groups, we ALL accepted anyone from anywhere as they were and are.
I like to view ravers as people who have intention. Seeking a rave needed intention to find it in the first place. The reason for seeking one out had an intention to either mask, survive, or heal from a person’s life stressors and traumas. Being at a rave there's an intention to authentically let go, be yourself, and accept others. And, when you left a rave, you left with the intention of continuing on the pursuit of happiness. At least, it used to be that way.
My name is Stacy Morrow and, for better and for worse, this is my dance music story. One that is filled with the most fucked up and beautiful memories I’ll have forever. Some in my darkest hours, some in my lightest hours, and some where it’s kind of both. I’ve been around the block a few times and I think my story will shed some light on what happened to dance music.
From Obsession to Profession
It all really started during my first weeks of my Summer semester at Fort Lewis College in 2007. I had been on punk street teams before and my new music obsession at the time was Bassnectar so, in pure Stacy fashion, I had the audacity to hit him up on MySpace to ask if he had a street team (he did). This was my beginning of a very wild ride in dance music culture that I’m still riding today.
Look, hate on Bassnectar all you want today, but the fact of the matter is that his music was and still is especially unique, his DJing skills are unmatched, he had a message that resonated with a lot of people, and his live shows were the most fun we will ever have. I mean, it was my fucking life for a good 5 years. I posted the shit out of Colorado and online with Bassnectar materials, I gained a good reputation so I became sought out by other promoters in Colorado, I met my ex-boyfriend Jantsen who I dated for about 3 years because of him, I even got my degree in Mass Communications because of his music, and overall this period of my life that revolved around his music was completely formative to my dance music obsession turned identity turned career.
Tbh, it’s weird to discuss my professional history in dance music. The best way I can sum it up is that I had this raging insatiable appetite to go to as many shows as I could, be as intertwined with any Colorado dance communities that existed, make it known that I was queen of dance in some way involving the internet and I was gonna be THE PERSON to dominate this impossible industry, and I picked up any job I could get my hands on, which was actually really difficult at the time as a female. From 2007 to 2015, I had an epic dance music run with jobs as a radio DJ, promoter, event manager, lots of publicity work, and my entry into talent management. It was an extremely wild ride that I gave up graduating on time for cause I was so dedicated to the Colorado music scene.
The Rise and Fall of the Scene
Truly, it was so amazing and blissful until it wasn’t. As dance music broke into the mainstream, it brought bigger stages, mind-blowing visuals, and legendary lineups. At first, it felt like a victory. But with all the new and renewed popularity came toxicity. What was once a culture of acceptance morphed into a status-obsessed cesspool. VIP became a mindset, not just a section. Backstage personalities grew vapid, and PLUR was left in the dust.
The turning point? Our so-called rave champions, Pasquale Rotella and Gary Richards, sold out by selling a large portion of their company or their entire company to Live Nation, the corporate giant notorious for squeezing every dollar out of music lovers. With those few moves made here in America, rave culture was no longer ours. It became a commodity. PLUR was becoming exploited. Money talks, doesn’t it?
Social media amplified the superficiality. Manufactured aesthetics replaced authenticity, and cliques started gatekeeping the scene. You weren’t a “real” person of dance music culture unless you’d been to Burning Man a dozen times and knew the “right” people. It was no longer about connection; it was about clout.
To be frank, I was fortunate in some ways to have dipped out of the industry as a professional to enter the corporate marketing world for 7 years. I still dabbled in shows, I still kept up with some of my friends, I still read articles to keep tabs on what the haps were, and I most definitely was observing everything online throughout that time.
During this time is when I started to open my eyes, connect the dots of my corporate and personal life experiences to what’s going on in the music industry (and mass media as a whole), and I was able to finally see the cracks in the music and wider entertainment industries. Since I have seen the evils of what this industry can do and be, I sifted through my emotions of anger, depression, and annoyance to realize the only way past is through and the only way I know how to respond is with the intention of hope and the ideology of PLUR.
So, with that said, let me be as straight up as I can be…. There is rampant use of various forms of manipulation tactics entertainment business professionals use on their talent to keep them in their control, just for their own pockets. I have seen this all throughout talent managers, booking agencies, production companies, ticketing platforms, SaaS products, and even my own friends who turned against me.
We have this beautiful communication medium, music, that has the greatest potential for impact to the global masses and actually create real change by allowing people to say what they need to say to begin the healing process because the world is on fire right now I’m not sure you’ve noticed. But, instead these betrayers are driven by ego, status, fame, and money. They would rather line their pockets instead of remaining on their original mission of living by example of the Peace Love Unity Respect mentality. It feels cold and dark here. I don’t like it.
Betrayal in the Scene (Hold Onto Your Butts… this is long)
For a while, I’ve been on a quiet mission trying to figure out what I’m seeing is true, hiding in plain sight, by observing and piecing things together and came to the conclusion it’s time for me to reclaim my power by speaking up and out. Long story short, I got caught in a toxic, co-dependent situationship with someone who identified themselves as a self-proclaimed “rave lord” who I thought was my good friend, my best one at the time actually, only to find out he was using me while going around saying how crazy I am and how embarrassed he is by me. Ouch.
For context starters, I got notice that my husband wanted to divorce me in August 2023 soon after our son’s birthday. No, I absolutely will not go into any details except to say it was insanely traumatic and still is. Soon after the divorce process started, my hometown rave friend I barely knew hit me up asking me out in our hometown of Tulsa, Oklahoma - I was like OMG YEAH cause it’s Tulsa. I had zero idea if it was a date or not (tbh, I still don’t) but regardless we hooked up cause that’s what tormented mid-30’s people do when they’re single.
Little did I know I had opened pandora’s box during a time I definitely had no business in doing so. But, to be fair, I had no idea. We really didn’t see each other much, I was seeing other people, he probably was too, and he was leaving for Bali being a bit existential and I was like “yeah, I don’t think we’re really a match” cause I thought we were just friends, and then he goes off to Bali and calls me. Every day.
He started pitching me all these fantastical ideas, name-dropping his contacts, and we bonded a bit over our shared love of travel and music. He was hyping me up, being really friendly, and, honestly, I appreciated it—I was a lonely single parent navigating a traumatic divorce that was still and is new. He knew I was working to launch Pioneer Pill, one of the ventures in my media conglomerate plans, and offered to help by acting as a sort of product manager. I thought, “Great, I really need the support.” But six weeks later, he came back with someone he likely found in Bali, quoted it as a $10K project, and casually added, “Oh, and you’ll need to pay me $2K in commissions.”
Look, I’m a people-pleaser, and giving is my love language, so when he brought up a $2K commission out of nowhere, it felt off. I thought he was helping as a friend, but suddenly the project ballooned to $20K—double my budget. Still, I moved forward, giving him tasks to manage, but he did nothing. When I questioned him, he claimed it wasn’t his responsibility. I felt used and confused, especially as a vulnerable single parent craving human connection.
Meanwhile, he kept calling daily, hyping me up, bringing vague opportunities, and talking about becoming a travel vlogger like Anthony Bourdain. I loved YouTube, admired Bourdain, and thought, “Maybe this could work.” I even restructured my plans to prioritize Ghost in the Machine, which was great because it is my largest passion project.
Things got really twisted for me right here. Many more phone calls occurred, statements of “I love you” (as a friend) were happening, then one concerning injury happened to him in Bali, and here I am on a rescue mission to bring him back home to American healthcare and be around his family. This. This is all it took for me to be warped into this crazy game of manipulation that was so distorting and, well, utterly heartbreaking that it felt like I was living a nightmare. I can’t even believe what the hell has happened. It’s still hard to process.
His name is Mohammad Khan. I truly thought he was my friend—someone I loved and cared for deeply. But the reality was far from what I wanted to believe. He manipulated me into thinking he was genuinely helping me achieve my goals, but in truth, he never made a single solid move. It really freaking sucks to realize. Here I was, pouring my heart into building something meaningful—an ethical, forward-thinking company with a moral code—and he was doing the exact opposite, using smoke and mirrors to disrupt and change my reality while pretending to support me. What the actual fuck?
I’ve had to learn so many hard lessons this past year, and honestly, I’m exhausted. Mohammad came into my life, weaving grand promises, flaunting his connections, and presenting himself as someone who could help me build my dream. He talked a good game—one of the best I’ve ever heard in my entire life. He’s incredibly charming and cute. He convinced me to trust him, but as time went on, it became clear that it was all talk. He never followed through on anything. Instead, he exploited his connections to inflate his own status, made vague promises about doing big jobs for me, and then, when he didn’t get his way or I started asking questions, his entire attitude shifted.
Burning Man was the breaking point. I helped him prepare for it with a lot of care and intention, thinking this would strengthen our partnership and it made me feel excited to make my mark on the playa before I go next year. I made his gifts, bought items, helped him pack—all because I believed in what we were supposedly building together. He even left with promises to finalize crucial legal documents and help prepare for our yacht adventure in Egypt, only to deliver nothing. Not a single thing. Instead, he came back saying it was all his idea, his dream, and dismissing my contributions entirely. Then the gaslighting became rampant to me about our plans, he was calling me crazy, and spinning everything to suit his version of reality. What was even happening?
Despite all this, I kept trying to make it work. I unfortunately gave him thousands of dollars, tons of tech and camera equipment, and countless hours of my time. For what? A couple of DJs, a failed lead with a solar company, and a mountain of unnecessary work that he later claimed he never asked for. It was insanely frustrating, confusing, and, to be frank, really hurtful. I was drowning in his chaos and manipulation, unable to claw my way out.
What he represents and the culture that enables people like him isn’t Peace, Love, Unity, or Respect—it’s toxic, abusive, and entirely antithetical to everything I stand for. It’s soul wrenching to realize I put so much of myself into someone who was only ever taking. And yet, I still feel bad for him, even after everything.
Mohammad, you know you can do better. You know you should do better. For yourself, for others, and for this community you claim to love. But for now, I need to pick up and move forward, alone. I owe it to myself to not let your actions define me or what I want to create. This isn’t the end of my story, or your story—it’s just a painful chapter I hope we both grow from.
Big shifts and major transformations
The stars shifted hard for me during ADE. I was navigating the toxic chaos of Mohammad's possessive and unprofessional behavior while pushing him out of my space completely. And, I absolutely SLAYED my first ADE completely solo. Honestly, doing it alone, especially in such a vulnerable position, was freaking terrifying—but it marked the beginning of me taking my power back. People actually got what I was talking about, and I could explain my company and offerings in five minutes. Mohammad had six months and couldn’t do the same. The disconnect was crystal clear.
At ADE, I saw hope for the future and reminders of past toxicity. Meanwhile, Mohammad used my money under my name for a boat party, launched a massive smear campaign against me, and spun a web of lies that’s so hard to track now… all to gain status. Yet, still, here I am choosing peace—but this time, with self-love and to finally stand up for myself. PLUR is for me and all other individuals to use as a guide for themselves, too. I will protect it.
Mohammad chose quick wins and status over a meaningful connection. He still has the power to make things right, but will he? People enabling him because he’s “fun” don’t see the damage, but I can’t keep being the one who’s stepped on. I’m tired of the hate and the mind games. Can we just go back to being free and having fun?
So, I’m calling it out. Greed and a lack of morals have no place here. The only way to stop it is by doing what I do best—using the media to spark change. Dance music culture needs to be a safe, authentic space again, and I’ll fight to protect that. Money is tempting, sure, but let’s rethink what we’re capitalizing on. This community was built on love, not ego.
I won’t pretend it doesn’t really fucking sting. The financial hit, the betrayal, the toxicity—it’s a lot. But even after my personal and professional setbacks, I haven’t lost hope and I won’t lose hope. I have a calling: to help others through music—artists, businesses, and fans alike. That relentless, albeit, sometimes naïve, hope drives me to keep going no matter how hard it gets. And, I think I’ve sunken pretty low right at this point while also riding high. It’s a strange and surreal transition.
ADE reminded me of the authenticity fans are longing for: a space free of ego, status, and glamor, where people can simply be themselves. I believe this is the heart of dance music and that’s why I’ll always champion alongside those who share the same vision.
I’m still salty about Mohammad, sure, but I live by a code that leaves room for growth. This isn’t about hate or canceling anyone, even him—it’s about accountability and the chance to find our way back to why we fell in love with this culture in the first place. We can’t change the world with hate. However, we can spark conversations that can start healing so please take away something from any side of the story here. And, continue to seek for a solution for a space where we all can get along, not fuck each other over, and have a good time again.
The pandemic changed us all, but it’s time to rebuild—together. Dance music is meant to be inclusive, not exclusive. It’s about connection, not cliques. And I’m committed to holding this community close and helping it grow, even when I take a public fall. I’ve taken distance from those who don’t serve me, maybe not forever, but for now. The toxicity is not for me and my destiny is to help change this culture. I won’t stop until I do.
Moving Forward with Love
To Mohammad and those like him: I hope you find your way back to the values that make this community special. To the rave community: Let’s reject the toxicity and rebuild something meaningful. Hate and bitterness won’t heal us—but accountability and empathy can.
I choose to fight for this culture because it gave me so much. I choose peace, even when it’s hard. I choose love, even when I’ve been hurt. And I choose to lead with hope because I know brighter days are ahead. If we just hold out long enough I truly think we can recuperate our beloved community.
Let’s bring back the magic. Let’s embody PLUR, with trust and accountability at its core. Only together as a united front, we can reclaim the heart of dance music.
With so much PLUR (and Accountability),
Stacy, the Ghost in the Machine
If you’re feeling trapped, overwhelmed, or unsure how to set boundaries, help is just a call away.
Contact Co-Dependents Anonymous (CoDA):
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