Even after they sell out arenas, trend on TikTok and rack up millions of streams, we hear many years later; stories of too many artists ending up broke, getting locked out of their catalogs, or dragged into court battles with people who once managed them.
The problem usually isn’t the music. It’s the contract, signed by (at the time) young, hungry, and uninformed artists. At the heart of those contracts are two ideas that look alike but couldn’t be more different:
1. Ownership of rights.
2. Ownership of income shares.
Confusing them has cost artists from Lagos to Los Angeles not just money, but control of their legacies. First, let’s talk about the crown jewels : rights.
Owning rights means owning your work itself. Your work includes your songs, your name, your likeness, copyright in the music, trademarks in the brand and image rights. We all know image rights power endorsements.
In Nigeria, the 2022 Copyright Act modernized protections, but with one major gap. Copyright in musical works lasts for life plus 70 years, and sound recordings endure for 70 years from publication, but there is no equivalent reversion right. Once an artist signs rights away, they are gone for good unless the original contract provides for their return. Nigerian law also strengthened performers’ rights, requiring written assignments and giving artists some leverage over recordings, but the absence of a reversion clause leaves a permanent risk.
In the United States, copyright law grants exclusive control to reproduce, distribute, perform, or create derivatives of a work. It also builds in a safeguard: after roughly 35 years, artists can terminate transfers, unless the work was classified as “made for hire.”
That statutory reversion is the reason Taylor Swift sidestepped old contracts by re-recording her catalog, creating new masters she alone controls. On the other hand, Nigerian reggae icon, Majek Fashek never fully reaped the rewards of Send Down the Rain; a global hit that outlived him but remained entangled in disputes.
The truth is, when you lose rights, you don’t just lose royalties, you lose power. With that being said, let’s talk about the income lane.(commission shares)
This is different. A manager takes a cut (usually 15 to 20 percent) of what you earn while you work together. The deal ends, the cut ends except when it doesn’t. Here’s an interesting concept : The Sunset Clause Trap
Buried in many contracts is the “sunset clause.” It allows a manager to keep earning even after you’ve moved on. A manager who negotiates a record deal in 2025 might still be cashing checks in 2029, long after you’ve fired them.
It’s no abstract warning. Kizz Daniel fought his label G-Worldwide for years. Runtown and Brymo both endured bitter disputes that drained not just their finances but their freedom. And the problem isn’t Nigerian alone.
TLC sold 10 million copies of CrazySexyCool before filing for bankruptcy. Toni Braxton went bankrupt twice. Prince painted “slave” on his face in protest of contracts he called exploitative.
The truth is this: it’s not just a music industry story. It’s the creator economy everywhere. Whether you’re a songwriter in Lagos, a YouTuber in New York, or a designer in Nairobi, your intellectual property is your retirement plan.
A hit can fade. A viral moment will pass. But rights keep paying (if you own them.)
Your music is your oil well. Don’t let anyone else own the land. Rights equal long-term control and whether you like it or not, income shares are temporary. one defines your legacy while the other is just business.
And above all: never, ever sign without a lawyer because the hardest part of making music isn’t the hit. It’s making sure you still own it when the music stops playing.
