YouTube’s Lyor Cohen Storms Out—Billboard Left Holding the Mic

Max Sterling, 12/18/2025YouTube's Lyor Cohen threatens to pull streaming numbers from Billboard, arguing for equal weight on all streams. This clash highlights the evolving music industry landscape, where viral hits and ad-supported views challenge traditional metrics and who decides what makes a hit.

Here’s how things stand: YouTube, global launchpad and meme factory, recently dropped the bomb that come January 2026, it’s yanking its streaming numbers from Billboard’s charts. Why? Their top music commander, Lyor Cohen, says Billboard’s ranking recipe relies too much on who pays and not enough on who actually listens. “Billboard uses an outdated formula that weights subscription-supported streams higher than ad-supported,” he points out, sounding like a dad unimpressed with the house rules on game night. Basically, Cohen wants that every single spin—whether it came sandwiched between crypto ads or behind a paywall—should count the same.

Of course, Billboard isn’t keen to hand over the kitchen knife. For more than a decade, YouTube’s dizzying avalanche of user-generated views straight-up rewired what it means to have a “hit.” Remember Miley dropping like a wrecking ball? The faceless masses of “Harlem Shake”? “This Is America” catching fire seemingly overnight? Viral energy, fueled by YouTube eyeballs, bulldozed its way into the coveted top slots. Charts that once rose and fell by radio programmers and record store clerks had to make room for the meme lords and the algorithms.

Still, industries never let a windfall go untaxed. Around 2018, Billboard decided that not all streams are equally blessed—one paid Spotify stream started to outweigh three ad-laden freebies. The message was clear: the guy who pays ten bucks a month for Premium is, financially at least, music’s golden child. From a business POV, it’s hard to argue with revenue, even if it’s not as catchy as a TikTok dance challenge.

Negotiations—if that’s the word—have since played out in boardrooms and, undoubtedly, more than a few testy Zoom calls. Billboard’s latest tweak to the formula, shifting the ratio to 2,500 ad-supported streams for every equivalent “album unit,” offers little more than a pat on the back. If this was supposed to be a peace offering, it must've arrived somewhere between a fruitcake and last year’s stale party mix. Cohen, polite but pointed in his public statements, continues to lob rhetorical grenades: “We’re simply asking that every stream is counted fairly and equally…because every fan matters and every play should count.” There’s poise there, but underneath—a not-so-veiled warning.

Billboard, for its part, responds with all the careful calm of a seasoned matriarch: “There are so many ways a fan can support an artist they love. Each has a specific place in the music ecosystem.” Translation: not all participation is created equal, and the grownups are still tallying the real votes in the kitchen.

Beneath the polite press releases lies a knottier question: what’s the worth of a play in 2025? Is it an after-hours teenager looping her favorite song on YouTube, twelve half-watched ads be damned? Or is it the die-hard fan, wallet out, pushing streams on a subscription service? YouTube vouches for democracy—every click, every replay, all with the same weight. Meanwhile, Billboard and industry regulars lean hard on the economics: streaming money keeps the engine running, and the premium crowd pays the bills.

The math isn’t just academic; it's about who shapes the cultural awards—who gets to say, definitively, what’s a “hit.” Cohen boasts YouTube paid out $8 billion in the past year to the music biz, which sounds staggering, until you peek at the broader ledger. That payout represents a mere 13% of YouTube’s whopping $60 billion in total revenue. Compare that with Spotify’s 67% payout rate, and the side-eye from artists (not to mention behind-the-scenes heavyweights like Irving Azoff, who hasn't hesitated to call out YouTube as “by far the worst offender” in fair compensation) starts to make sense.

When YouTube ultimately unplugs from the Billboard ecosystem, some immediate fallout seems likely. The charts, despite promises otherwise, will lose a bit of the real-world pulse—especially among the youngest and most online listeners, who treat YouTube as radio, record store, and video lounge all at once. Viral hits that rely on visual hooks and meme virality may lose their slingshot, forcing labels and artists to rethink how (and where) to hype the next big single.

On the other hand, chart formulas have always been in flux. The players, the rules, the metrics—something’s always shifting. Talk to anyone over thirty and watch their eyes glaze over as you start explaining “chart units” or TikTok-driven singles. Still, among streaming platforms, it isn’t entirely clear who’ll emerge as the tastemaker-in-chief. Not that this has ever really stopped artists from creating—or fans from looping their obsession du jour.

At the heart of this showdown, though, is something both simple and slippery: who gets to decide what counts? Every play—be it a mindless background loop or a ritual listen with friends—adds up in a way that is more than just column A versus column B. Perhaps this debate, messy as it is, signals the broader ambition of music in 2025: to be everywhere, for everyone, and maybe, just maybe, defy the old gatekeepers in favor of something less rigid, a little more wild.

As the year closes out, with another chart year looming and no clear truce in sight, the industry’s old guard can’t entirely ignore the fact that kids in crowded bedrooms, commuters on the subway, and internet rabbit-holers continue to shape what everyone’s humming next week. The mechanics behind the scenes might keep changing, but the chorus remains the same: everyone’s still hitting play, and the rest, as ever, is up for debate.

Imagine the music business as the world’s most chaotic Thanksgiving dinner. Picture it: the turkey’s carving itself, cousins are fist-fighting over the aux cord, and in storms Uncle YouTube—loud, insistent, threatening to flip the table unless his mashed potatoes get counted like everyone else's. This isn’t just holiday dramatics; it’s more or less the predicament facing Billboard and YouTube as 2025 winds down and the charts, once again, head for a collision course with a digitized reality.Here’s how things stand: YouTube, global launchpad and meme factory, recently dropped the bomb that come January 2026, it’s yanking its streaming numbers from Billboard’s charts. Why? Their top music commander, Lyor Cohen, says Billboard’s ranking recipe relies too much on who pays and not enough on who actually listens. “Billboard uses an outdated formula that weights subscription-supported streams higher than ad-supported,” he points out, sounding like a dad unimpressed with the house rules on game night. Basically, Cohen wants that every single spin—whether it came sandwiched between crypto ads or behind a paywall—should count the same.Of course, Billboard isn’t keen to hand over the kitchen knife. For more than a decade, YouTube’s dizzying avalanche of user-generated views straight-up rewired what it means to have a “hit.” Remember Miley dropping like a wrecking ball? The faceless masses of “Harlem Shake”? “This Is America” catching fire seemingly overnight? Viral energy, fueled by YouTube eyeballs, bulldozed its way into the coveted top slots. Charts that once rose and fell by radio programmers and record store clerks had to make room for the meme lords and the algorithms.Still, industries never let a windfall go untaxed. Around 2018, Billboard decided that not all streams are equally blessed—one paid Spotify stream started to outweigh three ad-laden freebies. The message was clear: the guy who pays ten bucks a month for Premium is, financially at least, music’s golden child. From a business POV, it’s hard to argue with revenue, even if it’s not as catchy as a TikTok dance challenge.Negotiations—if that’s the word—have since played out in boardrooms and, undoubtedly, more than a few testy Zoom calls. Billboard’s latest tweak to the formula, shifting the ratio to 2,500 ad-supported streams for every equivalent “album unit,” offers little more than a pat on the back. If this was supposed to be a peace offering, it must've arrived somewhere between a fruitcake and last year’s stale party mix. Cohen, polite but pointed in his public statements, continues to lob rhetorical grenades: “We’re simply asking that every stream is counted fairly and equally…because every fan matters and every play should count.” There’s poise there, but underneath—a not-so-veiled warning.Billboard, for its part, responds with all the careful calm of a seasoned matriarch: “There are so many ways a fan can support an artist they love. Each has a specific place in the music ecosystem.” Translation: not all participation is created equal, and the grownups are still tallying the real votes in the kitchen.Beneath the polite press releases lies a knottier question: what’s the worth of a play in 2025? Is it an after-hours teenager looping her favorite song on YouTube, twelve half-watched ads be damned? Or is it the die-hard fan, wallet out, pushing streams on a subscription service? YouTube vouches for democracy—every click, every replay, all with the same weight. Meanwhile, Billboard and industry regulars lean hard on the economics: streaming money keeps the engine running, and the premium crowd pays the bills.The math isn’t just academic; it's about who shapes the cultural awards—who gets to say, definitively, what’s a “hit.” Cohen boasts YouTube paid out $8 billion in the past year to the music biz, which sounds staggering, until you peek at the broader ledger. That payout represents a mere 13% of YouTube’s whopping $60 billion in total revenue. Compare that with Spotify’s 67% payout rate, and the side-eye from artists (not to mention behind-the-scenes heavyweights like Irving Azoff, who hasn't hesitated to call out YouTube as “by far the worst offender” in fair compensation) starts to make sense.When YouTube ultimately unplugs from the Billboard ecosystem, some immediate fallout seems likely. The charts, despite promises otherwise, will lose a bit of the real-world pulse—especially among the youngest and most online listeners, who treat YouTube as radio, record store, and video lounge all at once. Viral hits that rely on visual hooks and meme virality may lose their slingshot, forcing labels and artists to rethink how (and where) to hype the next big single.On the other hand, chart formulas have always been in flux. The players, the rules, the metrics—something’s always shifting. Talk to anyone over thirty and watch their eyes glaze over as you start explaining “chart units” or TikTok-driven singles. Still, among streaming platforms, it isn’t entirely clear who’ll emerge as the tastemaker-in-chief. Not that this has ever really stopped artists from creating—or fans from looping their obsession du jour.At the heart of this showdown, though, is something both simple and slippery: who gets to decide what counts? Every play—be it a mindless background loop or a ritual listen with friends—adds up in a way that is more than just column A versus column B. Perhaps this debate, messy as it is, signals the broader ambition of music in 2025: to be everywhere, for everyone, and maybe, just maybe, defy the old gatekeepers in favor of something less rigid, a little more wild.As the year closes out, with another chart year looming and no clear truce in sight, the industry’s old guard can’t entirely ignore the fact that kids in crowded bedrooms, commuters on the subway, and internet rabbit-holers continue to shape what everyone’s humming next week. The mechanics behind the scenes might keep changing, but the chorus remains the same: everyone’s still hitting play, and the rest, as ever, is up for debate.