Sometimes when you discover a great band before everyone else, it often feels like this music is your personal secret. You discovered it, and it's effect is so powerful on your psyche that you don't want to share it with anyone except your closest friends. But then the machine takes over. The artistic merits of your band make it impossible for them to stay small. The small club tours turn into arenas and stadiums.

The zine stories turn into covers of spin magazine. And instead of being racked in the back of a small Indie record store, the albums are suddenly displayed up front at HMV. The band you discovered is now selling millions of records, records that are being bought by fans that came late to the party. You did all the hard work. You did all the prospecting. You made the initial emotional commitments. This was your private music. Now you're being forced to share it with the world.

Even worse, the band appears to be enjoying this success on some label. The singer dates a model. The bass player buys a house in Hollywood. The drummer seen driving a new Ferarri. The guitarist vacations in St. Barts.To some, this is a betrayal, and rather than accept this as a normal part of the rock-n-roll life cycle, some fans will blame the band before being good enough to sell a lot of records and make a lot of money. The band's music hasn't changed. Their attitude about is still the same. They rock just as hard. They're still playing with the same intensity as they used to. But because the group is now selling a significant number of records, they've been branded as sell-outs.

- Alan Cross
- Ongoing History of New Music, Selling Out Part 2.