I once lost a client and a songwriting credit because I assumed everyone was on the same page. They weren’t. One awkward conversation with her mother later, I walked away from a royalty split I’d earned and never heard from that artist again.
That experience taught me something most musicians learn too late: the business conversation isn’t optional, and having it early doesn’t kill the vibe. Skipping it does.
If you haven’t taken the time to understand your rights as a songwriter or recording artist, you’re walking through territory full of pitfalls. I’ve seen talented artists leave money on the table for years because they didn’t know what they were entitled to. And I’ve learned some of these lessons the hard way myself.
The good news: a little education goes a long way. Understanding the basics can protect you from disputes, open up new income streams, and (here’s the part people don’t expect) actually make your creative collaborations better.
Here’s something that surprises a lot of people: copyrighting your song is easy. In Australia, and most other countries thanks to the Berne Convention, copyright protection happens automatically. No registration required. As soon as you write lyrics or music, or record it to any medium, it’s protected.
You don’t need the © symbol on your artwork. You don’t need to mail yourself a copy (that myth needs to die). You don’t need to file paperwork.
That said, proving you created something first matters if there’s ever a dispute. In the digital age, this is easier than ever. Keep your session files with timestamps. Save your demos. Use collaboration platforms that track version history. Early drafts, voice memos, the testimony of people in the room. All of this establishes when a song was created and by whom.
When you create a recorded song, two separate copyrights exist:
The Publishing (the song itself) covers the composition: melody, lyrics, chord progressions, arrangement. If someone covers your song, they’re using this copyright.
The Master (the recording) is the specific recorded version. The actual audio file. If someone wants your exact recording in a film or ad, they need to license the master.
Why does this matter? Because they’re often owned by different people.
If you’re independent and write, record, and release your own music, you probably own both. But if you’ve signed to a label, they might own your masters. If you co-wrote with someone, you share the publishing. If a producer contributed creatively, they might have a claim on one or both.
Understanding this distinction is fundamental to understanding how music copyright royalties flow in the music industry.
Collaboration is the norm now. Look at the credits on most songs getting streams. Multiple writers, producers, contributors. Even solo artists regularly work with co-writers and producers.
If you’re the sole songwriter AND you self-produce AND you release independently… power to you. You own everything.
But most of us collaborate. And if you collaborate, you need to have an honest conversation about splits before you start writing.
I cannot stress this enough.
Under Australian copyright law (and similar principles apply elsewhere), there’s an important distinction:
A collective work is when each person’s contribution is clearly separable. You write the music, someone else writes the lyrics. Each party owns their part.
A joint work is when contributions blend and can’t be easily separated. You’re in a room together, someone plays a riff, someone builds on it, the drummer suggests a change. Who wrote what? It’s blurry.
Here’s the key: if no agreement is made before writing, a joint work splits equally between all contributors. Two people? 50/50. Three? Thirds. Four? You get the idea.
That might be exactly what you want. Or it might not reflect reality at all. Decide intentionally, not by default.
Early in my career, I was hired to produce a track for a young vocalist. She was 16 at the time. She had a basic chord structure and wanted me to write and produce a full pop song around it.
We discussed terms over email: a flat fee for production, plus around 10% of songwriting royalties. She agreed. We got started. Everything went smoothly.
The problem? When it came time to sort out payment, I was handed off to her mother. In that conversation, I focused on the production fee and neglected to confirm the royalty split.
I assumed we were all on the same page.
We weren’t.
After the project was finished (track written, vocals recorded, mixed, mastered, everyone happy) I mentioned the royalty split while helping them register the song with APRA. The mother’s response was not great. Accusations flew. Threats of lawyers. “She’s a minor, so your agreement means nothing.”
Was she legally right? Maybe. Contracts with minors are complicated. But that wasn’t really the point.
The point was that I’d failed to confirm the arrangement with the person who controlled the business side. I had an agreement with the artist, but not with the decision maker.
I walked away from the royalty split. It wasn’t worth the fight, and it probably wasn’t going to amount to much money anyway. But I lost that client permanently, and I learned something I’ve never forgotten:
Make sure everyone who matters is in the room when you discuss the business.
Here’s the flip side people don’t talk about enough.
When you DO have these conversations upfront, when everyone agrees on splits before the first note is written, it actually makes the creative relationship better.
Since that early experience, I’ve made a point of sorting out the business end first. Most of my royalty splits over the years have led to genuinely positive relationships.
When a band knows I have a stake in the song, they understand I’m invested. I’m not just a hired hand pressing buttons. I’m treating their music like it’s my own. I serve the song. I do what I can to achieve the best possible result.
Will most of these songs make significant money? Let’s be real, probably not. But that’s not the point. The point is everyone’s aligned, nobody’s going to feel ripped off later, and we can focus entirely on making something great.
Performance Royalties are generated when your music is performed publicly: radio, TV, live venues, streaming platforms, cafes, gyms. Your PRO (Performing Rights Organisation) collects these.
Mechanical Royalties come from reproduction of your music: physical copies, downloads, and streaming. Every time your song is reproduced, a mechanical royalty is generated.
Sync Royalties happen when your music is synchronised with visual media: TV, films, ads, video games. These can range from tiny to life-changing.
When someone streams your song, it generates both performance AND mechanical royalties from a single play. But these get collected through different channels, and many artists only set themselves up to receive one income stream.
This is the gap most independent artists fall into.
In Australia, that’s APRA AMCOS. Membership is free. Once you register your songs, you collect performance royalties from gigs, radio, TV, and streaming.
International equivalents: US: BMI, ASCAP, or SESAC. UK: PRS for Music. Canada: SOCAN.
If you’re releasing music and not a member of your local PRO, you’re almost certainly leaving money on the table. Sign up. Register your works. It takes an afternoon.
If you’re releasing independently through DistroKid, CD Baby, TuneCore, Ditto, or LANDR, these services collect your master royalties from streams and downloads.
But they typically don’t collect your publishing/songwriter royalties. That’s a separate stream through your PRO.
In the US, the Mechanical Licensing Collective (MLC) collects streaming mechanicals for songwriters. In Australia, AMCOS handles this. But you need to be registered.
Many artists set up their distributor, see money coming in, and assume they’re getting everything. Often they’re not.
If your music ends up on YouTube, Content ID can identify your songs and monetise them. Your distributor might offer this, or you might need a separate service. Worth investigating.
We can’t talk about music copyright royalties in 2026 without addressing AI. I’ll be honest, this is genuinely uncertain territory. The law is still catching up.
AI Generated Music means a song created entirely by AI with no meaningful human creative input. It likely cannot be copyrighted. Copyright law requires human authorship.
AI Assisted Music is murkier. If you use AI as a tool, generating ideas that you then select, arrange, edit, and develop, there’s a stronger argument your contribution makes the result copyrightable. Think of it like using a sample library.
Your Music as Training Data is an ongoing legal battle about whether AI companies can use copyrighted music to train models without permission. No clear resolution yet.
Practical advice: register your works. Keep documentation of your creative process. Stay informed as the law evolves. This space is moving fast.
If royalties are to be split a specific way, write it down. A simple split sheet listing all contributors and their percentages is enough. Everyone signs, everyone keeps a copy, done.
An oral agreement is technically enforceable in Australia, but written agreements prevent memory lapses and misunderstandings. And you won’t end up in a situation where someone’s mum is threatening to sue you.
Agreement on the details before you start can prevent misunderstandings and preserve both working and personal relationships. Getting the bureaucracy out of the way first actually creates space for creativity to flourish.
Work out the business end first. Have the awkward conversation before it becomes an ugly one. Join your PRO. Register your works. Understand what you’re owed and how to collect it.
The money talk doesn’t kill the creative vibe. Avoiding it does.
If you’ve got questions or stories of your own, I’d love to hear them. Find me on X or Instagram.
I’m a mix engineer and audio educator based in Melbourne. Check out my free mixing tools and dial in your settings fast.
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