Goldman Sachs, the global investment bank, publishes an annual report on the music industry titled “Music in the Air.” The latest edition, released in June this year and recently updated on its website, highlights key trends shaping the business. According to the report, the global music market is projected to reach $200 billion by 2035—roughly double its current size. However, Goldman Sachs notes that the engines driving this next phase of growth will differ from those of the past. The report points to the rise of paid streaming in emerging markets, the expansion of video-based content, and the continued momentum of live performances as major contributors. And then there’s a newer, less familiar catalyst: superfan monetization. The report estimates that this emerging “superfan” market could hold as much as $6.6 billion in additional value. But what exactly is a superfan?
To get closer to an answer, let’s rewind to this March in Austin, Texas—home to South by Southwest (SXSW). This year’s SXSW conference drew over 48,000 attendees from 108 countries, featuring more than 1,700 talks and panel discussions. Among its 102 featured sessions, one stood out for anyone watching the future of the music business: “The Future of Music: Building a Superfan-Centric Business.” The session was moderated by Jaime Marconette of Luminate, the market research company best known for compiling the Billboard charts. On stage with him were three key figures shaping today’s global pop economy: Joon Choi, President of Weverse Company; Mitra Darab, President of HYBE x Geffen Records; and Sarah Janiszewski, music industry expert at the streaming platform Tidal.
In other words, the discussion brought together three distinct forces: a platform built around K-pop fandom culture, a joint label designed to transplant the K-pop production system into the U.S. market, and a streaming service that pioneered premium experiences. Together, they explored what exactly defines a superfan—and how to reach them. But more importantly, the session became a clear lens through which to see the contrast between Western and K-pop perspectives on the idea. While the Western music industry is only now turning its attention to superfans as a potential breakthrough audience, K-pop has long internalized and perfected that model.
Let’s look at what the Western music industry has recently discovered. First, why superfans? Its growing fascination with superfans stems from a shifting market reality. According to the Recording Industry Association of America (RIAA), U.S. recorded music revenue growth slowed from 8% in 2023 to just 3% in 2024, with streaming, the engine that led the industry for a decade ’s decade-long boom, also losing momentum, dropping from 8.1% to 3.6%. During streaming’s rise, the model’s appeal lay in its promise of equal access. But fixed subscription fees and evenly distributed royalties have resulted in thin margins, and the pursuit of scale within that system has reached its limits. As growth plateaus, the focus is shifting—from the breadth of the audience to the depth of fandom, from casual listeners to the devoted fans whose passion creates the greatest economic value.
Second, what makes superfans different? To start, the 2025 midyear report from Luminate offers a quantitative definition. A superfan is someone who engages with an artist through five or more of thirteen possible channels—including attending live or virtual concerts, purchasing albums or merchandise, participating in social media or fan communities, and subscribing to fan clubs or newsletters. According to Luminate’s 2024 year-end music industry report, about 20% of all music listeners fall into the superfan category. Their spending patterns stand out: on average, they spend 66% more on live events and over twice as much on music purchases as typical consumers. Their concert attendance rate is 90%, compared to the general average of 59%. Eighty-one percent of superfans say they talk about their favorite artists with friends or family—roughly double the average listener’s 41%. And 73% of superfans buy merchandise, compared to just 26% of the general audience. These figures align with our intuitive understanding: a superfan is more than a listener—they are a deeply connected supporter, bound to an artist through emotional attachment and sustained engagement.
Yet the Western music industry’s early response to the idea of superfans has largely been an economic one. The focus has been on monetizing existing audiences—offering them limited-edition vinyl or premium concert experiences. In other words, the conversation often revolves not around how superfans build relationships with artists or co-create meaning, but rather around what they can be persuaded to buy. For a while, the future of the “superfan strategy” was imagined as a new premium tier of streaming services—a natural expectation, given that the entire debate began with streaming’s slowdown. Spotify, for instance, has long hinted at launching a high-fidelity audio tier bundled with exclusive content. But recently, the company took a different turn: it began offering lossless audio to all subscribers, not just premium ones. That shift could be read as something more than a technical upgrade—it signals a move away from treating superfans purely as transactional consumers. And anyone reconsidering that model may well find themselves looking toward K-pop, where the relationship between artist and fan has long gone far beyond the point of purchase.
Long before the Western music industry began searching for its own version of the superfan, K-pop had already built a highly organized, deeply connected fan culture. K-pop fans are not passive consumers—they act as creators and distributors in their own right. They produce fan art, run social media accounts, and even translate content to make it accessible to international audiences. These fans actively seek out others who share their passions, forming tight-knit communities that develop their own symbols, language, and collective identity. At times, that collective energy spills beyond music, turning into social action—like when K-pop fandoms famously mobilized to drown out racist hashtags online. Such examples reveal that K-pop fandoms are sustained not by the desire for exclusive goods, but by emotional bonds. This is also where the value of K-pop’s closed fan platforms comes into play. As Joon Choi, President of Weverse Company, emphasized at SXSW, Weverse’s distinction lies in offering a safe and reassuring communication space for both artists and fans—unlike the chaotic jungle of open social media.
In short, K-pop fandoms aren’t just a demographic segment defined by a few data points—they’re an infrastructure. In the Western framework, a superfan tends to be treated as an individual profile. But K-pop fandoms are self-organizing, globally distributed networks—not a collection of loyal individuals, but an ecosystem that actively participates in building an artist’s success. What we might call K-pop’s “core technology” lies precisely in the cultivation of this infrastructure—this web of relationships and creative labor that sustains both artists and audiences. That’s why, during the SXSW session, Mitra Darab, President of HYBE x Geffen Records, remarked: “No fandom has blown me away more than the K-pop fandom and their level of devotion. The psychology of that fandom is different. They want to be part of the story; they want to be part of the narrative.”
The debut of KATSEYE and the production of “Pop Star Academy” mark HYBE’s attempt to transplant the K-pop methodology into a new cultural context. If this process were to be documented, several key components would stand out: a rigorous and systematized T&D (Training & Development) process for artist formation; the pre-debut cultivation of fandom through reality-based content; a steady flow of supplementary materials—behind-the-scenes footage, livestreams, personal messages, and more; and finally, a centralized platform that ties all of these layers together. By comparison, the Western “superfan strategy” often feels like an amplification of existing practices rather than the invention of new ones. Efforts to monetize the loyalty of established fan bases or to nurture emerging artists through social media engagement and viral marketing both fall within familiar terrain. K-pop, on the other hand, is built on a fundamentally different premise: it is a business that creates fandom from the moment an artist begins to take shape. So, when both industries talk about being superfan-centric, they may be using the same words—but they’re not really talking about the same thing.
The success of KATSEYE—with its multinational lineup and U.S.-based activities—has demonstrated that the K-pop model can transcend cultural boundaries and function as a universal framework for building artists and fandoms alike. So where does it go next? HYBE’s expansion into the Latin music market offers the next test case. Its new boy group project, Santos Bravos, applies the same pre-debut fandom-building formula through a reality show, while blending in the distinct cultural and artistic sensibilities of Latin America. Even before the group’s final lineup has been decided, their 5,000-seat debut concert is already sold out.
HYBE INDIA, newly established in Mumbai, represents yet another frontier. India is now one of the fastest-growing music-streaming markets in the world, and while the K-pop methodology remains the foundation, HYBE aims to adapt it to the local market and audience sensibilities. As seen in both the Latin American and Indian cases, K-pop is evolving into a model that balances a proven global system with deep respect for local culture. It no longer operates merely as a challenger proving its viability abroad—it now drives the globalization of fandom itself. While the traditional Western music industry is still learning the vocabulary of the superfan, K-pop is already writing in an entirely new grammar.