Finn's Insight. Where the Music Went: A Calling for Sound, Soul and Scotland.

By David Sheret aka Finn Moray

I’ve spent most of my adult life working in offshore energy and communications, helping companies grow, adapt and speak more clearly. But in recent years, especially since the loss of my father, a good friend and my beloved dog in quick succession, something shifted in me. Not in a sentimental way, but in a tectonic way. Grief cleared the surface noise and left only the bedrock. And in that stillness, I found a question I couldn’t ignore: what am I doing with whatever time I have left?

That question didn’t lead me to an answer. It led me to a map. A musical one. A way to make songs for the towns and villages that shaped me and the people around me. Not for the charts, not for the algorithm, but for the soul. That’s how the Finn Moray project began. But to explain what it stands for, I need to start with where the music has gone.

The Soundtrack of Convenience

Today, the dominant way we experience music is through streaming. One click and the world opens up, millions of songs, any time, anywhere. It’s remarkable. And yet, for all this abundance, something vital has gone missing: the connection between the music and the place it came from.

Streaming is not neutral. It is designed around scale, not substance. Algorithms surface what suits their metrics. Virality trumps depth. Local voices vanish into the feed. Artists are paid, on average, £0.003 per stream. To earn the equivalent of UK minimum wage, you’d need around 550,000 plus monthly streams. That’s not music as a livelihood. That’s music as unpaid labour.

And what’s worse, the money doesn’t stay where the art is made. It flows upwards, to platforms, to catalogue owners, to shareholders. The value is extracted, not returned. Geography becomes irrelevant. The local becomes invisible.

The Irony of Disruption

Here’s the part that should make us all pause: this system was born out of rebellion. In 1999, Napster burst onto the scene and terrified the recording industry. Suddenly, anyone could share music peer-to-peer, without permission, without payment, without the middleman. The gatekeepers panicked. The future had arrived.

But what happened next wasn’t liberation. It was consolidation. The industry didn’t collapse. It adapted. The major players built new platforms, digitised their catalogues, and reasserted control, this time, with more data, more precision, more profit.

Napster was supposed to be a revolution. In hindsight, it was a speed bump. A research and development moment for the corporations. The disruption showed what was possible, and then was absorbed into a system that made it worse.

Now we live in a world where technology can deliver any song in seconds, but the artist who made it might not be able to afford a train ticket to their next gig.

A Hard Truth About Ourselves

And let’s be honest here, we are not innocent bystanders. We’re mostly all part of the problem.

Once convenience enters your life, it’s hard to give it up. Behavioural science calls it “status quo bias”. We don’t change systems, even broken ones, if they’re easy and familiar. We don’t ask where the money goes. We don’t think about the artist on the other side of the stream. Not because we’re bad people, but because we’re human.

I’ve done it too. I’ve streamed what suited me, because it suited me. I didn’t think much about who was getting paid. The truth is, most of us are so far removed from the ethical consequences of our actions that they don’t even register. We’re not immoral. We’re just being hacked.

We’re commercial units in someone else’s engagement dashboard.

So What Can Be Done?

That’s where the Finn Moray Social Compact comes in.

It’s not a protest. It’s a proposal. A different way of structuring music, not just as a product, but as infrastructure.

The Compact is a public and legal declaration: fifty percent of all net profits from the project will be returned to community, cultural or charitable initiatives across Scotland. If a song mentions a town, we'll focus on that town getting a share but also that town helping the region it's in. If a tour sells tickets, the places we perform get a portion. If merchandise sells online, the proceeds are shared with all regions and entities referenced in the debut album.

This isn’t a gimmick. It’s governance. There will be annual reports. Transparent numbers. Real impact. It’s how we rebuild trust, not with slogans, but with structure

Music as a Living Map

I like to write and create music that remembers. Songs that hold the memory of people, language, place and history. A living musical map of Scotland. One that is expansive, yes, but also rooted. Not just nostalgic but also forward-looking. Blending traditional storytelling with blended craft, AI and modern tools, but keeping the human spark at the centre.

Every song is a kind of cultural investment. Not in the financial sense, but in the emotional and civic one. And if it finds success, that success should ripple outward, not just upward. That’s how we circulate value, not just extract it.

Not Perfect. Just Present.

I don’t pretend to be a hero. This is not a marketing ploy or a crusade. It’s just an attempt to do something useful with the time I have left on this planet and the music we create. To make stories that last. To give people something that feels familiar and proud. To build a bridge between art and accountability.

And yes, I’ve made peace with the fact that not everyone will care. That the system won’t change overnight. But that’s not the point. The point is to start walking a different path. Song by song. Village by village. With people who feel the same. To create an option. An alternate aligned with people who say; do you know what, no, I like these sentiments and values, I'm in.

As I wrote in my personal statement:

We thrive when we live with authenticity, purpose and connection. We grow not by chasing perfection but by doing meaningful work with meaningful people.

That’s all this is.

A More Human Future

We can’t undo what’s been done. Napster is gone. Spotify is here. Streaming will remain, for now. But alongside it, we can plant something different, maybe even better, certainly fairer. Something that's rooted in place, pride and reciprocity.

The Finn Moray Social Compact is not a campaign. It’s a voluntary compass. A way of saying: this is what we value. This is where we stand. This is what we choose to build, together.

If that speaks to you, come with us. Let’s make the music matter again.

Contact Finn: finn@finnmoray.com