Digital platforms are reshaping Pakistan's music

The shift from labels to platforms

Shaheer opens by describing a seismic shift in Pakistan’s music industry. Ten years ago, the system revolved around physical distribution, record labels, and CDs. Artists needed label backing to reach audiences. Then piracy and, later, platform bans compressed the old infrastructure. EMI left Pakistan. Distributors disappeared. Suddenly, the artist became responsible for everything.

“In a digital industry, an artist is a manager, an artist is a distributor, an artist is everything,” Shaheer says. YouTube, Spotify, and social media replaced the gatekeepers. The cost of entry collapsed. Anyone with a laptop and basic production software could begin making music. For Shaheer, this transition opened a path that would have been closed in the label era. He began as a guitarist learning recording basics, teaching himself DAWs and production, and launching a career without permission from anyone.

Why producers now have a distinct voice

Muzamil asks why producers have suddenly become visible. In Western markets, the producer is now a celebrity. A track carries the producer’s name as boldly as the artist’s. In Pakistan, this remains rare. Shaheer sees himself not as an invisible technician but as a “producer artist.” He brings both technical skill and a distinct sound signature.

“I have a specific sound. Visuals are a different way,” he explains. When an artist works with MRKLE, they are buying into that aesthetic and that approach. It is not merely technical service. The producer shapes the song’s identity. This visibility serves a purpose. In a crowded digital space, a recognizable producer brand becomes an asset for both the artist and the producer’s own career. Muzamil relates deeply to this. He describes the same realization in his own journey: when you stop chasing someone else’s definition of success and instead define your own offering, the market responds to clarity.

The business side of the art

Muzamil introduces a harder question: if producers and artists are now differentiated, who does the financial work? Shaheer explains that many Pakistani artists do not understand mechanical royalties, publishing rights, or the contract language that protects their interests. A producer or artist can license a song for a TV show and accept a one-time payment, unaware they have surrendered future royalty streams. In a global market with third-party collection agencies, this gap creates opportunity for exploitation.

“When they have an education or awareness, I am pretty sure all these old guys listening have an idea,” he says. The old guard worked within a label system and learned the terminology. But in the digital era, artists teach themselves production and distribution, yet often skip the business fundamentals.

Talent versus persistence

Shaheer shares an observation that cuts against Pakistani culture. Young musicians often say there is no talent in Pakistan and no pathway forward. He disagrees. The real issue is that many confuse having talent with deserving success. He saw musicians with genuine skill give up after 2 or 3 years because they had not become superstars. Meanwhile, musicians in Western markets play unfunded shows day after day, driven by love of the craft, not the promise of fame. They build a following slowly.

“The people who end up becoming successful are the ones who have this realization that whatever you do, it is never enough. So you learn, learn new ways, learn new music,” Shaheer says. Persistence and constant evolution matter far more than raw talent. A musician must be willing to fail privately, improve, and ship new work repeatedly. The system does not owe anyone recognition.

Money as the honest conversation

Toward the end, Muzamil and Shaheer settle on a shared insight: the music industry is a business, and pretending otherwise is self-deception. When an artist wants to fill a stadium, they need lighting rigs, sound systems, and security. Those cost money. When money is involved, you enter a system where the best businessman often wins, not the best musician.

Shaheer does not see this as corrupting the art. He frames it as honest. If you make music for yourself in your bedroom with no audience expectation, that is art and expression, and it is valid. But if you talk about reaching 40,000 people, you have entered commerce. Commerce has rules. And the sooner an artist understands those rules and learns to play them well, the more sustainable their career becomes.

A producer’s role in the future

Shaheer believes Pakistan’s music will continue to accelerate. Acceptance of electronic production is growing. Social media has given artists platforms they did not have before. The producer’s role is no longer hidden behind the glass. And that clarity, he argues, is healthy for everyone.