Every genre succumbs to gentrification at some point- as equipment becomes cheaper, as crowds become younger, there seems to be a sheepish attitude towards producers - how they can follow a mundane, linear sound, and make money.

When success means playing it safe

There's a real tension here that plays out across music, fashion, and pretty much any subculture that starts underground. When something begins as a scrappy, authentic movement—whether it's drum and bass or lo-fi hip-hop—it thrives because people are genuinely experimenting, breaking rules, and honestly just making what moves them. But the moment it becomes accessible and profitable, something shifts. Suddenly there are formulas. The equipment that cost thousands is now affordable to anyone with a laptop, which should democratize creativity. Instead, it sometimes just floods the space with people more interested in replicating a marketable sound than pushing the form forward.

The sheepishness Clifford Price identifies is crucial. There's an implicit shame when someone admits they're following a proven template, even though it's exactly what older generations did when they were learning. The real insight isn't that making money is shameful—it's that we've created a culture where originality and commercial success feel mutually exclusive. But they don't have to be. The most interesting work often comes from people who care enough about their craft to do both: respect the lineage while refusing to carbon-copy it.