Indie by origin, alternative by content: why I describe myself this way

When someone asks me what kind of music I make, I have several answers. The long one mixes pop, copla, electropop, camp and lyrics about narcissistic exes. The short one is different: I'm alternative indie. Two words that look like a genre but actually describe a stance. Today I want to explain why I choose them, what they mean right now and why my work does not fit the mould of the conventional music industry.

Two words that began as a place, not a sound

"Indie" comes from independent. At first it did not describe how a record sounded, but who put it out. Rafa Cervera recalls this in a piece for Valencia Plaza: it all starts in Manchester in 1977, when Buzzcocks paid for and distributed their first record, Spiral Scratch, on their own. Do it yourself. Without asking anyone's permission.

In the UK, a chart was set up in 1980 just for independently distributed records. As Wikipedia's entry on alternative rock sums up, by 1985 "indie" had also come to name a style. In the United States at the same time people talked about college rock, because those bands were played on university radio, and soon "alternative" took over: whatever sat outside the commercial rock of the big stations.

In Spain the label took off in the early nineties. Cervera mentions bands such as Los Planetas and El Niño Gusano and small labels such as Elefant, Subterfuge and Acuarela. And he stresses something I find key: what defined it was not a type of guitar, but creative freedom.

When the alternative became the mainstream

The story has a well-known twist. In 1991 Nirvana's Nevermind changed everything. Suddenly the alternative sold, and the major labels rushed to sign anything that resembled it. The same Wikipedia entry notes that by 1993 the New York Times was already writing that the genre did not seem so alternative any more. Many bands were caught between success and their ideals of doing everything themselves.

Something similar happened to indie. Today, for many people, "indie" is a recognisable sound, a festival aesthetic, a way of dressing. Cervera himself says it with some melancholy: the term now mostly serves a leisure market, and its link to that original independence is residual.

In other words: there are bands that sound "indie" with huge contracts, and fully independent artists who sound nothing like "indie". The label has come unstuck from its origins.

Why I stick with the old meaning

When I say I'm alternative indie, I am not talking about reverb-soaked guitars or fringes. I am talking about the two things those words meant at the start.

Indie, because I really am independent. I release through my own label, MIKE SAIN'T LOUIS. I have already written about what it means to run a one-person record label: I am the whole staff, and the Monday meeting too. I write every PLANETA GAYFOLK lyric, I produce the music with AI tools that I direct, I decide the look of each release, I direct the music videos and I choose when each song comes out. If something goes wrong, there is no one else to blame. If it goes well, I know why.

Alternative, because what I do is not at the centre. Not as a pose, but because of the content. My songs are about narcissistic exes, nosy neighbours, flamboyance, mental health, copla and fans. They are almost always in Spanish, with blunt humour and camp as a banner. The same tags tend to appear on my song pages: indie pop, alternative pop, queer pop and camp. Each of those words takes me a little further from the mass audience. And I know it.

Why my work does not fit the conventional industry

I don't say this with resentment. I say it the way you describe a map. There are several reasons why what I do does not fit the usual circuit, and almost all of them are choices.

First, volume and pace. I have released 273 singles in about two years and directed more than 280 music videos. A traditional structure would hardly sign off on that schedule. A major label usually works with long campaigns, fewer songs and heavy investment in each. I work like an open notebook: write, produce, release, keep going.

Second, the tool. The music and vocal performance of my songs are made with AI, and I say so openly. That is why I call myself the first AI singer-songwriter. The lyrics come from me; I get the music out of the tool by directing it, discarding and choosing. For part of the industry, that rules you out from the start. I explained it when I wrote about the loneliness of the independent AI artist: for some I am too much machine, for others too much copla.

Third, the subjects. A song about a nosy neighbour or an ex who resorts to gaslighting is not made to play in a shopping centre. It is made for a specific person who laughs and recognises themselves. That is the exact opposite of what a mass hit needs, which is to please lots of different people at once.

Fourth, how I give the music away. The GAYFOLK trilogy can be downloaded free, with no sign-up, from the downloads page. In the conventional industry, giving away three full albums without even asking for an email makes little sense. On my planet, it does.

What the industry figures say

Being independent no longer means being marginal. According to MIDiA Research data reported by Hypebot, in 2023 independent labels and self-releasing artists together accounted for 46.7% of the global recorded music market, measured by who owns the rights. Almost half. The independent world is huge.

The thing is, AI opens a new frontier inside that world. In April 2026 Deezer reported, according to Music Business Worldwide, that it was receiving around 75,000 fully AI-generated tracks a day, more than 44% of all new music delivered to the platform. Those tracks made up only 1% to 3% of streams, and the platform flagged about 85% of those streams as fraudulent. Deezer tags them and removes them from algorithmic recommendations and editorial playlists.

Spotify, for its part, announced new measures in September 2025: a music spam filter, a policy against vocal impersonation and a system for artists to disclose in the credits which parts of their music were made with AI. In the same announcement it says it supports artists' freedom to use AI creatively and that all music is treated equally, regardless of the tools used to make it.

I think this is worth telling because it explains the ground I stand on. There is a flood of mass-produced songs with nobody behind them, made to scrape streams. And there are artists who use the tool to say something of their own. The second exists, but it often gets lumped in with the first. Being alternative, for me, also means this: proving with every lyric that there is a person behind it.

Gatekeepers and the daily argument

Two of my songs explain this better than I can.

"Gatekeeping" is written for the people who guard the door of art and decide who gets in. It is dry, in English, built from short phrases. It has an image that sums up what often lies behind "that's not music":

You draw a line around yourself and call it culture.

That is often what the conventional industry does when it gets defensive: it is not protecting quality, it is protecting territory. The full lyrics are a list of those gatekeeper phrases, handed back word for word.

"Discutiendo con la IA" answers another oft-repeated idea: that using AI is just pressing a button. The song replies to that critic with an almost domestic scene:

Si estoy a todas horas discutiendo con la IA

"When I'm arguing with the AI at all hours." That is what working with the tool is really like. Arguing, discarding, starting again. No inspiration falling from a cloud. You can read the lyrics and you will see the chorus spin like a mantra, just like the daily work.

The label as a compass

Labels have a bad reputation. They pigeonhole, they simplify, they fall short. But I use this one as a compass. When I wonder whether a song is too odd, too blunt or too much mine, I remember what "alternative" means: you don't have to sound like what is already playing. And when I ask myself whether I should find someone to tell me what to release, I remember what "indie" means: I can decide that myself.

I'm not saying my path is the best or the only one. Some artists need a big team and do very well with it. I have chosen a corner, and I explained in this piece about niche fame why that corner does not feel small to me.

An invitation

If you want to see what all this means in practice, you don't have to take my word for it. Listen. The singles list has every song, the lyrics archive lets you read them at your own pace, and if you have questions about how I work with AI, the FAQ answers the most common ones.

Indie, because I don't ask anyone's permission. Alternative, because what I talk about is rarely talked about. And AI singer-songwriter, because the lyrics are mine and I am the one directing the tool. That is the full label. It fits me perfectly.