The Great Streaming Heist
Last week, I watched a video of a talented and famous country guitarist on one of the social networks. The soulful notes from her guitar pulled at my heartstrings, evoking memories of long-forgotten dreams and aspirations.
With admiration, I expressed my sympathy and support, leaving a heartfelt comment under her post. Much to my surprise, she sent me a friend request a few hours later. My heart leaped; the idea that she would reach out to me seemed almost too good to be true.
Usually, medium and big artists radiate professionalism and keep a distance from everyone. I believed that she was modest and that this was her way of saying thank you for the support. The personal message that followed felt like a warm embrace; she thanked me from the bottom of her heart and expressed a desire to have occasional conversations.
At this point, my joy was tempered with suspicion. I visited her profile, which looked oddly new — only four friends and no posts or pictures. The harsh realization hit me: this was a fake profile, an impostor.
Imposters are rampant in this industry. Many are hidden fans with varying degrees of mental disorders seeking a twisted connection with their idols. But far beyond the identity theft of celebrities on social networks lies a much more sinister and alarming phenomenon: sophisticated fraudsters steal music material for…
