When Baker Boy won the Hottest 100 countdown spot and Barkaa sold out the Enmore Theatre in the same month, it felt like something had shifted. Not a sudden change — more like the culmination of years of work by First Nations artists, communities, and the organisations that support them.

But moments can be deceiving. The music industry has a history of celebrating First Nations artists briefly before moving on. I wanted to look at what’s actually happening, whether this is different from previous waves, and what needs to happen for the success to be sustainable.

What’s Happening Now

The breadth of First Nations music currently gaining national attention is extraordinary. This isn’t one genre or one scene — it’s hip-hop (Barkaa, Kobie Dee, JK-47), indie rock (King Stingray), electronic music (Dobby), country (Thelma Plum’s country-adjacent work), R&B, experimental music, and more.

King Stingray’s trajectory is particularly notable. A Yolngu surf-rock band from Arnhem Land who sing in Yolngu Matha and English, they’ve gone from playing community events to headlining major festivals in about three years. Their success hasn’t required them to compromise their cultural identity or language — if anything, the authenticity is what resonates with audiences.

Barkaa’s rise has been equally significant but different. Her music is explicitly political, drawing on her experiences as a Malyangapa, Barkindji woman navigating systems that were designed to marginalise her community. She’s bringing conversations about incarceration, intergenerational trauma, and sovereignty into mainstream music spaces.

Why This Time Might Be Different

Previous waves of First Nations music success — think Yothu Yindi in the early 1990s, or Jessica Mauboy’s pop career — tended to produce individual breakout artists who existed somewhat in isolation from a broader movement.

What’s different now is the infrastructure. Organisations like APRA AMCOS’s First Nations program, First Nations Music Australia, and state-based initiatives have created support systems that didn’t exist before.

The Skinnyfish Music model in the Northern Territory has been particularly influential. Rather than trying to fit First Nations artists into mainstream industry structures, Skinnyfish built an ecosystem around the specific needs and cultural contexts of the communities they work with. Recording happens on country when possible. Tour schedules respect cultural obligations. Revenue models account for communal ownership.

Other organisations are learning from this approach. Several new management companies specifically serving First Nations artists have launched in the past two years, and the major booking agencies now have dedicated First Nations rosters.

What the Industry Needs to Do

Support that lasts beyond a “moment” requires structural changes, not just good intentions.

Cultural competency in the industry. Music industry professionals need to understand that standard practices — touring schedules, contract structures, promotional expectations — may not align with cultural obligations. Sorry Business, community events, and connections to country aren’t optional for First Nations artists, and the industry needs to accommodate this rather than treating it as an inconvenience.

Revenue that reaches communities. Several First Nations artists I’ve spoken to are clear that their success belongs to their communities, not just themselves. Industry structures that recognise communal ownership and ensure revenue flows back to communities are essential.

Long-term investment. Signing a First Nations artist to a three-album deal and expecting a return on the first release applies a corporate timeline to a cultural process. Labels and managers who work with First Nations artists need patience and a genuine commitment to the artist’s long-term vision.

Platforming without extracting. Media coverage of First Nations music should prioritise the artists’ own voices and perspectives. Too much coverage falls into the trap of framing First Nations success as surprising or exceptional, rather than as the natural result of extraordinary talent and hard work.

The Audience Side

The growing audience for First Nations music is encouraging but needs context. Festival programmers I’ve spoken to say that First Nations acts are consistently among their best-received bookings. Audiences respond to the energy, authenticity, and cultural richness of the performances.

But audience enthusiasm needs to translate into sustainable economics. Going to a King Stingray show is great. Buying their merch, streaming their music regularly, supporting their community organisations, and advocating for First Nations music in your own networks matters more.

Looking Forward

The current wave of First Nations music success isn’t just a “moment” — it’s the result of decades of community building, cultural resilience, and artistic excellence. The question isn’t whether First Nations artists are talented enough for mainstream success. They’ve always been. The question is whether the Australian music industry has built enough permanent infrastructure to support that success sustainably.

The early signs are promising. But the history of the music industry’s relationship with First Nations communities demands scepticism alongside hope. Watch what happens not in the next twelve months, but in the next five years. That’s when we’ll know if the industry has actually changed.

This music matters. Support it with your attention, your money, and your advocacy. It’s the least we can do.