MUMBAI: Every hit song has a hidden side. Behind the polished vocals, viral hooks, and finely tuned beats are the silent architects of sound — the session musicians, backing vocalists, and studio instrumentalists who bring life, depth, and magic to India’s biggest hits. From the violinist whose solo stirs the soul to the flautist whose melody becomes the song’s signature, their contributions are essential. Yet, their names often never make it to the credits. Their royalties rarely, if ever, arrive. And once the track is mastered, their role disappears into silence.
India’s music industry is louder and more dynamic than ever. Streaming platforms have created overnight sensations, elevated regional voices to international stages, and turned bedroom producers into mainstream names. In 2024–25 alone, the Indian Performing Right Society (IPRS) distributed over Rs. 600 crore in royalties — the bulk of it from digital plays.
But as the digital music economy thrives, a glaring analogue problem remains: non-featured artists — session musicians, instrumentalists, and background singers — are still excluded from the system they help sustain.
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IPRS data shows nearly 70% of royalty collections now come from streaming. Independent artists and regional talents are thriving — some earning over Rs. 50 lakh annually. But session musicians, typically hired for one-off recordings, continue to work without contracts, credit, or compensation beyond their initial fee.
National Award-winning lyricist and screenwriter Varun Grover (Masaan, Gangs of Wasseypur, Sacred Games) highlights the issue bluntly: “Session musicians deserve way more than what they’re getting.”
Their names are rarely attached to tracks. Their work lives on, endlessly streamed and monetized — but not by them.
Composer Joell Mukherji, known for ad jingles and collaborations with Amit Trivedi and Pritam, says, “Royalty distribution in India is still in its infancy. Even FM stations neglect it.”
Veteran violinist Jeetendra Javda explains the informal setup: “There are no contracts. We just play, based on trust. No discussion of rights or royalties.”
Composer Madhav Ajgaonkar (Maddy) adds, “Forget money — we don’t even document who played what. Credits are routinely missing.”
India’s Copyright (Amendment) Act, 2012 was supposed to change the game by recognizing performers’ rights. But in practice, non-featured artists remain sidelined. Few are registered with collection societies, and royalty-bearing contracts are rare.
Grover recounts being pressured into exploitative deals: “Labels would offer Rs.10 lakh and say Rs. 9 lakh is an advance royalty for 50 years — with bizarre clauses about usage across galaxies.”
The work-for-hire model, allowed under Section 17 of the Act, leaves most session artists without any claim over future royalties — even if the song becomes a blockbuster.
In countries like France, Germany, and Spain, non-featured performers benefit from mandated equitable remuneration through collective societies. But even these systems aren’t perfect — registration and self-advocacy are crucial.
Grover notes, “At least in Europe, there are mechanisms. In India, it still depends on goodwill, inertia, or sheer luck.”
Some positive signs are emerging. Javda sees a growing trend of musicians being credited more often. Grover himself made a point to credit every instrumentalist in the soundtrack of All India Rank, released on his personal YouTube channel.
But credit doesn’t pay bills. “It’s not just a lack of money,” says Maddy. “It’s a lack of awareness, education, and systems. Most of them don’t even know what royalties mean.”
Experts agree that change must begin with enforceable contracts and education. “Even when contracts exist, they’re often unsigned or unnotarised,” says Maddy. “Anyone can deny they agreed.”
The Indian Singers Rights Association (ISRA) and IPRS have made strides for featured artists. A similar structure is needed for non-featured contributors — with proper documentation, recognition, and legal backing.
Maddy puts it simply: “Start with credit. Then fight for the money.”
As Javda reflects, “In 1992, we didn’t even dream of royalties. In 2025, we’re finally talking. Maybe in ten more years, we’ll be counted.”
For now, India’s music boom plays on — with the quiet echo of instruments left uncredited, melodies lost in metadata, and lives that gave music its soul but remain unheard.
