Music Culture

MTV Signs Off in 2025 With the Song That Started It All

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On December 31, 2025, a landmark moment in music and television history quietly unfolded: MTV’s dedicated 24-hour music video channels ended their broadcast run by playing the very same music video they debuted with 44 years earlier—The Buggles’ “Video Killed the Radio Star.”  

This poetic symmetry, beginning and ending with the same song, is more than a nostalgic shrug. It reflects the arc of MTV’s influence on music, media, and popular culture, while offering a symbolic close to the era of television as a primary gateway for music discovery, as I discussed yesterday.

A Revolution Begins: MTV’s 1981 Launch

When MTV (Music Television) went on the air at 12:01 a.m. on August 1, 1981, its format was radical: a channel devoted exclusively to music videos playing around the clock. The first video ever broadcast was “Video Killed the Radio Star” by the British new wave band The Buggles.  

The choice was as fitting as it was prophetic. Released in 1979 under Island Records, the song was itself a commentary on technological change in media—the rise of recorded music, video and digital production threatening the primacy of radio. Written by Trevor Horn, Geoff Downes and Bruce Woolley, and propelled by its synth-pop sound, it topped charts in many countries and became synonymous with the dawn of a new musical era.  

For MTV, the video was more than a catchy tune—it was an emblem. By placing a visual experience at the forefront of music consumption, MTV helped redefine how generations discovered artists, songs and styles.

MTV’s Golden Age: Cultural Force and Industry Shaper

Throughout the 1980s and early 1990s, MTV’s influence spread far beyond the small number of U.S. homes that could first receive its signal. Shows like Headbangers Ball, Yo! MTV Raps and 120 Minutes brought genres from indie to heavy metal to hip-hop into living rooms worldwide. Music videos became central to an artist’s identity and success.

The phrase “I want my MTV,” popularized in early marketing campaigns, became shorthand for youthful aspiration and cultural currency. The network propelled personalities such as Daisy Fuentes, Andy Dick and Kenneth “Babyface” Edmonds into stardom, and helped launch the careers of artists from Madonna to Nirvana.  

MTV did more than broadcast music; it shaped how music was made. Record labels invested heavily in video production, and artists began approaching videos as art and narrative: from Michael Jackson’s cinematic Thriller to Peter Gabriel’s innovative visuals. These were not mere promotional tools—they were cultural events.

Shifting Tastes and the Digital Era

But the very forces that made MTV as indispensable in the 1980s, technology and shifting media consumption, also contributed to its decline as a music video destination. As cable expanded and then fragmented into dozens of channels, MTV began incorporating non-music programming like The Real World, Jersey Shore, and Ridiculousness as ratings drivers.

By the early 2000s, the rotation of music videos on MTV substantially diminished in the United States. Viewers found new ways to access music videos online through platforms like YouTube, Vevo, and later social media apps, eroding the unique value proposition that MTV once held.  

MTV’s decision to shift toward reality and entertainment formats, while commercially sensible, signaled a transformation of its brand identity. Instead of music television, it became a hub for youth-oriented pop culture broadly defined.

2025: The Last Music Videos Go Dark

The decision in 2025 to discontinue MTV’s 24-hour music video channels (including MTV Music, MTV 80s, MTV 90s, and MTV Live) marks the end of an era. While the core MTV channel remains on the air in some regions, focusing on reality programming, the dedicated music video channels that once defined the brand’s global footprint went dark as of December 31, 2025.  

In the U.K., Ireland, France, Germany, Poland, Australia and Brazil, MTV’s music video stations signed off in a series of final broadcasts that referenced the channel’s own history. Most poignantly, MTV Music’s final transmission featured “Video Killed the Radio Star”—the very track that launched MTV in 1981.  

This choice was deeply symbolic. It acknowledged MTV’s roots while also recognizing a cultural moment in which traditional broadcast television has largely ceded music video discovery to the internet and mobile platforms. The channels’ sign-off was not a quiet disappearance into obscurity but a deliberate nod to the entire arc—from analogue radio and early cable to the digital screens of today.

Why This Matters Beyond Nostalgia

MTV’s lifecycle mirrors broader shifts in media: from centralized broadcasting to decentralized, on-demand digital networks. In its heyday, MTV was both a curator and creator of popular culture; it influenced fashion, language, and musical trends globally. The end of its music video channels underscores how much control over media audiences and creators now wield through algorithms and digital distribution.

Yet, the enduring relevance of “Video Killed the Radio Star” is telling. The song’s narrative, about innovation displacing older forms of media, remains the story of MTV itself. MTV didn’t just broadcast music videos; it embodied a shift in how people engage with music as a multisensory, visual, and social experience.

The song’s symbolic role at both MTV’s inception and sign-off offers a poignant bookend: a reminder that media landscapes evolve, often in ways that creators and audiences could hardly predict.

A Cultural Footprint That Endures

As MTV’s music video channels sign off forever, the network’s legacy lives on. It reshaped the music business, redefined television programming, and helped forge the visual vernacular of contemporary pop culture. Its final act—playing the same iconic music video that introduced the network in 1981—celebrates a remarkable 44-year journey.

In closing with “Video Killed the Radio Star,” MTV did not signal an end to music videos or visual creativity; rather, it acknowledged that the battleground for such creativity has moved. Music videos now thrive on digital platforms, created by artists and audiences alike. Yet the memory of MTV’s rise, and its graceful farewell, reminds us of a time when a single song could announce not just a broadcast, but a cultural revolution.

The Beatles Anthology Hits Disney+ — and the Band Is Somehow Still Breaking Up Before Our Eyes

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Taking time over Thanksgiving to watch The Beatles Anthology feels like pausing the noise of the present to sit with something timeless. The documentary’s sweep—its memories, its contradictions, its fragile humanity—lands differently when you experience it in the soft lull between holiday meals and family chatter. It becomes less a history lesson and more a reminder of how rare it is for art to reshape the world, and rarer still for us to slow down long enough to feel it. In the quiet of the holiday, the story of four kids from Liverpool overrunning an entire century feels both impossibly distant and strangely intimate, like rediscovering a familiar warmth you didn’t realize you’d missed.

There’s a moment early in The Beatles Anthology—now revived on Disney+ like a relic exhumed from a time capsule of swinging London and acid-washed utopianism—where you realize that no matter how many times you’ve heard the same myth, you’re still powerless to resist the gravitational pull of The Beatles. It’s not just nostalgia. It’s not even hero worship, though that’s baked into the culture at this point like sugar in a doughnut. It’s the strange, lingering shock of discovering that four kids from Liverpool somehow hijacked the 20th century, and we’re still picking through the wreckage.

Watching Anthology in 2025 feels a bit like binge-reading someone’s diary long after they’ve died and been canonized. The documentary is part time machine, part séance, part messy family photo album. And now, thanks to Disney+, the whole thing is packaged with the glossy inevitability of a Marvel re-release. Press play, and suddenly we’re back on the rooftop, or on the plane to JFK, or in Hamburg, crawling out of seedy bars before they even knew they were supposed to be legends.

The Beatles never asked to become a religion. But they didn’t exactly discourage it either.

Anthology as a Resurrection Machine

When Anthology first aired in 1995, it was a sprawling, nostalgic reconciliation project—three surviving Beatles trying to square the circle of their own history. It arrived with two “new” songs, “Free as a Bird” and “Real Love,” as if John Lennon were phoning in demos from the afterlife. There was a sense of closure, or at least the illusion of it.

Rewatching it now, the illusion fades fast.

Because what hits you is how unbelievably young they were when the circus erupted. The early footage is almost indecent: mop-topped cherubs strumming their way into global hysteria. Ringo looks like he still hasn’t figured out the joke. George hovers in the background with the Zen intensity of a kid already dreaming of escape. John and Paul—codependent, competitive, inseparable—seem like two halves of a single supernova destined to explode.

Disney+ doesn’t change any of this. But it reframes it. The Beatles come to us now in algorithmic form, recommended alongside Star Wars and The Simpsons. They’re no longer the gods of Rock History textbooks. They’re content.

And yet they refuse to shrink. What other band could endure a nine-part documentary and still leave you wanting more?

The Eternal Breakup

The thing people forget about Anthology is that it’s basically one long breakup album told in documentary form. You can almost feel the tectonic plates shifting as the series moves from Beatlemania to the studio years. The cameras stop capturing exhilaration and start capturing exhaustion.

“Help!” stops sounding like a joke.

“Yesterday” stops sounding like a fluke.

“Hey Jude” starts to feel like an apology.

The Beatles’ story is a tragedy disguised as a fairy tale. And Anthology never tries to hide that. In the early episodes, they’re compact and hungry and full of possibility. By the end, they’re four planets drifting out of orbit, held together only by tape, memory, and the vicious tenderness of old friends trying desperately not to say the wrong thing.

The venerable rock critic Lester Bangs would have loved this. He worshiped honesty almost as much as he worshiped guitars, and he would’ve recognized the profound emotional carnage humming under the surface of the Beatles myth. He would’ve also called them out for the contradictions—for preaching love while sometimes barely being able to stand each other, for reinventing the world while struggling to reinvent themselves.

But he would have forgiven them, too. Because the music was that good.

Beatlemania in the Age of Streaming

One of the strangest pleasures of the Disney+ re-release is how it recasts Anthology as a binge-worthy epic. You can watch the band evolve in real time, like some impossible evolution chart:

Cavemen in leather jackets → Cheeky pop savants → Psychedelic revolutionaries → Mature studio alchemists → Four guys too tired to keep pretending.

In the streaming era, this trajectory feels almost too clean, too narratively convenient. Today’s bands barely last two albums before the internet atomizes them into solo projects, Twitter feuds, or boutique coffee brands. The Beatles lasted about a decade, and in that decade they authored the modern idea of what a band could be.

What Anthology shows—sometimes accidentally—is that even at their peak, The Beatles were never comfortable with being The Beatles. That’s the secret fuel of the entire documentary: they’re constantly trying to escape the gravitational force of their own creation.

George Harrison’s weary look in the late ’60s? That’s the face of a man trapped inside someone else’s mythology.

The Beautiful, Exhausting Machinery of Genius

One of the most fascinating through-lines in Anthology is the insight it gives into the creative engine of Lennon-McCartney. There’s a moment where they’re discussing writing “With a Little Help from My Friends,” casually tossing out ideas like they’re doodling in the margins of history.

Paul: “What about this?”

John: “Hmm, okay, but maybe make it a bit more… weird.”

George Martin: “Boys, that’s quite good.”

Audience of millions worldwide: Loses mind. This is the alchemy fans come for. The magic trick. The thing we pretend we can understand.

But Anthology also gives us something rarer: the gears beneath the magic. The insecurities. The imposter syndrome. The grind. These guys didn’t just wake up and write “Something” or “A Day in the Life.” They worked. They argued. They pushed each other to the brink. If rock mythology usually polishes everything into legend, Anthology leaves the fingerprints.

Seeing the Beatles Through 2025 Eyes

Maybe the strangest thing about revisiting Anthology now is how contemporary it feels. The media frenzy, the public-private split, the pressure to constantly innovate—it all maps eerily onto modern celebrity culture, except the Beatles didn’t have social media to amplify their every misstep. Imagine John Lennon on Twitter. Imagine Paul McCartney forced to explain the concept of “Paperback Writer” on TikTok.

And yet, despite the decades between then and now, the emotional churn of the documentary still lands. You feel the claustrophobia of fame. You feel the thrill of artistic discovery. You feel the heartbreak of watching four people who genuinely loved each other become unable to continue sharing the same world.

Paul’s grief in the early ’80s interviews is still palpable. George’s dry humor remains a perfect counterweight. Ringo—god bless him—anchors everything with the resigned joy of someone who knew from day one that he was lucky to be there, even when it broke his heart.

The End Still Hurts

By the time Anthology reaches the breakup, there’s no surprise left. You know it’s coming. You know the rooftop concert is the final performance. You know that lawsuits and bitterness and tabloid nonsense overshadowed the final chapter.

And yet it still hurts. It always does.

Because Anthology makes clear that the Beatles weren’t just a band—they were a lifelong conversation. And like all great conversations, it eventually exhausted itself. “The dream is over,” Lennon sings in 1970. But Anthology shows that the dream was already cracking long before he said the words.

So Why Watch Again?

Because Anthology is the closest thing we have to the Beatles telling their own story—warts, brilliance, contradictions and all. And because in 2025, in a world where music is increasingly reduced to background noise for workouts and commutes, watching their evolution unfold over 10 hours feels almost radical.

It reminds us that music once mattered enough to rewrite the world. And that four flawed, brilliant people somehow changed everything before they even understood what they were doing.

Final Thought

Watching The Beatles Anthology on Disney+ is like returning to the scene of a beautiful accident. You know how it ends. You know who gets hurt. You know which friendships survive and which don’t. But you can’t look away, because the wreckage is too gorgeous and too human to ignore.

Lester Bangs would have told you the same thing, only louder, with more profanity, and while throwing on Revolver at full volume to prove a point. But the point remains:

The Beatles aren’t just a band. They’re a feeling. And Anthology—even three decades later—reminds us why that feeling still refuses to die.

Exploring the Tragedy of Unheard Records

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In the digital streaming age where we all have instant access to an unparalleled variety of music — at least for now, it may seem paradoxical to consider the existence of unheard records. With thousands of records released every year and thousands of songs uploaded to streaming services every week, the sheer amount of available music is overwhelming. The vastness of the musical releases, coupled with the continuous influx of new creations and the persistent legacy of past works, results in an overwhelming number of records that remain unheard each year. Let’s delve into the reasons behind this phenomenon, exploring the factors contributing to the vast pool of undiscovered musical gems and considering the implications for both artists and listeners.

One of the strengths of music culture is the unending craft of music creation. The United States has long been a melting pot of diverse cultures, each contributing to the fantastic mix of musical genres and styles. From the birth of jazz in New Orleans to the rise of hip-hop in the Bronx, to the adventure of electronic music across the country, American music has evolved and branched out into an extraordinary array of forms. This constant evolution, driven by creativity and cultural cross-pollination, ensures a continuous influx of new records into the musical ecosystem.

The music industry, with its multifaceted nature, encompasses not only mainstream genres but also a plethora of incredible niche and independent scenes. While popular artists dominate the radio airwaves and streaming platforms, countless talented musicians operate in the peripheries, creating music that often goes unnoticed by the mainstream audience which we consider a distressing fact — and a mission of Your Tuesday Afternoon Alternative to address. YTAA as a radio show always focused on independent, local and amazing music that needs to be heard.

The expansive musical universe, we all inhabit, ensures that a considerable number of records go unheard each year simply due to the sheer volume of new releases and a cultivated ignorance of the mainstream record labels to push a limited number of artists and records, and a continuation of a narrowcasting approach by radio and streaming services. Consider Spotify’s financial model focusing on records that have high sales and high engagement. And this problem — and we think of the situation as a problem — is occurring despite an increase in the sales of physical copies of records. According to Oliver Payne, writing at Music Tech.com, “Physical album sales overall also saw a notable rise of 13.3 per cent in 2023, with 41.5 million physical copies sold compared to 2022’s 36.7 million. Notably, direct-to-consumer vinyl sales experienced substantial growth, reaching 2.6 million sales.”

The advent of digital technology and the rise of streaming platforms have revolutionized the way we consume music. It is not unreasonable to think of this as a digital deluge. While this has undoubtedly increased accessibility, it has also contributed to the phenomenon of unheard records. The democratization of music production means that anyone with a creative spark and basic equipment can produce and release music independently. And this opening for musicians is to be applauded and supported so that musicians regardless of reach can create music. Consequently, the sheer volume of music flooding online platforms can be overwhelming, making it challenging for even the most dedicated music enthusiasts to sift through the multitude of releases. An amazing song or incredible record can fall through the proverbial cracks all too easily.

Moreover, as we allude to earlier, the algorithms employed by streaming services often prioritize popular and commercially viable tracks, relegating many lesser-known gems to obscurity. As a result, artists operating outside the mainstream are faced with the daunting task of breaking through the digital noise to capture the attention of potential listeners. This digital deluge, while providing unprecedented opportunities for artists to share their work, also contributes to the growing pool of unheard records.

Economic realities and the struggle for visibility in a highly competitive music industry, is a core concern tied to unheard records. The economic considerations play a significant role in determining which records rise to prominence and which remain in relative obscurity. Major record labels, with their considerable resources, can afford extensive marketing campaigns and promotion efforts to elevate their artists into the public eye. Independent and unsigned musicians often face financial constraints that limit their ability and time to invest in promotion. Which assumes that artists are even interested in promotion in a challenging media and advertising environment in the first place. This issue motivated us to have conversations with musicians invested in music promotion on our podcast, Uncool Music Conversations with Andy & Art.

The lack of financial backing can result in talented artists creating exceptional records that languish in the shadows, unable to break into mainstream consciousness. In this context, the economic realities of the music industry contribute to the perpetuation of unheard records, creating a barrier for many artists to achieve the visibility they so richly deserve.

Taste curation, both on an individual and collective level, plays a pivotal role in determining which records gain traction and which fade into uncertainty regardless of how compelling an album or a song is for someone. Individual listeners often gravitate toward familiar genres, artists, or styles, limiting their exposure to a broader spectrum of musical offerings. Additionally, the collective taste of society, shaped by trends and cultural influences, can create a homogenized musical landscape that excludes many innovative and boundary-pushing works. Part of the challenge is encouraging music fans to listen to music that they do not know. Taking a chance on unfamiliar music remains a serious impediment for getting music heard.

Furthermore, the influence of music critics, radio stations, and streaming service playlists can shape public opinion and contribute to the perpetuation of certain genres or artists at the expense of others. This taste curation, while serving as a valuable guide for listeners, can inadvertently lead to the neglect of numerous records that fall outside the established norms.

The existence of unheard records has profound implications for artists, both established and emerging. For established artists, the pressure to conform to market trends and maintain commercial success can stifle experimentation and creativity. This not only limits the artist’s ability to explore new musical territories but also contributes to the saturation of certain genres at the expense of others.

Emerging artists, on the other hand, face the uphill battle of gaining visibility and recognition amid the vast sea of unheard records. The struggle for attention in a crowded digital landscape can be disheartening, and many talented musicians may find themselves overlooked simply due to the fierce competition for audience engagement.

The phenomenon of unheard records is not merely a challenge for individual artists but also has broader implications for the overall diversity and innovation within the space of music. The musical diversity and innovation are limited when all of the attention in music is devoted to just a handful of artists or albums. When a significant portion of the musical output remains undiscovered, the potential for cross-pollination of genres, the emergence of new styles, and the evolution of musical forms is hindered.

Diversity in music is a crucial aspect of cultural expression, reflecting the myriad perspectives and experiences within society. The failure to recognize and appreciate a wide range of musical creations diminishes the richness of the cultural tapestry of music, limiting the potential for innovation and the exploration of new sonic frontiers.

Let’s consider potential solutions and avenues for discovery for a moment. Addressing the issue of unheard records requires a multifaceted approach that involves both industry stakeholders and listeners. Increased support for independent and niche scenes, including financial backing for promotion and distribution, can empower artists who operate outside the mainstream. Streaming platforms can refine their algorithms to better highlight diverse and underrepresented music, ensuring that listeners are exposed to a broader range of offerings. Independent and local labels can and should be embraced and supported! Music fans can contribute to a healthy music ecosystem by supporting local labels! Our area has several independent labels such as Magnaphone Records, Poptek Recs, and Gas Daddy Go.

Supporting local record stores create physical and online spaces where music fans can expand their knowledge and experience of music. A simple solution is to go to these stores and support them. Talk to the staff who work there as they may have amazing recommendations for bands, artists and records that you may not know about yet. We recommend Omega Music, Blind Rage Records, Skeleton Dust Records, Toxic Beauty Records, Shake It Records, Everybody’s Records just to name some of the shops we regularly visit in our area.

Initiatives that celebrate musical diversity, such as festivals, awards, and curated playlists that explore songs beyond popular artists, can play a pivotal role in bringing attention to unheard records. Music enthusiasts can also contribute by actively seeking out and sharing lesser-known works, supporting local scenes, and engaging with a variety of genres to expand their musical horizons. In our city we have several incredible festivals such as Dayton Music Fest, Dayton Porchfest, Holidayton, Dayton Battle of The Bands, Showcase Thursdays at The Yellow Cab Tavern, Dayton Sideshow, and Winterfolk Dayton, again just scratching the surface of music events in the Gem City. Wherever you call home there are likely to be terrific music events where you can explore far more amazing music. Social media platforms and chat rooms where music fans respectfully share music that moves them is another source of information on unheard songs and albums.

The phenomenon of unheard records in the United States is a complex and multifaceted issue, shaped by the interplay of cultural, economic, and technological factors. This is not a concern that is easily resolved. But just because the challenge is difficult does not mean that it is impossible to address. As the music industry continues to evolve, addressing this challenge requires a collective effort from artists, industry stakeholders, and listeners alike. By fostering a culture that values diversity, embraces innovation, and supports independent voices, we can hope to unravel the symphony of unheard records and ensure that the full spectrum of musical creativity finds its audience. Take a chance and listen to something you do not know, it might be the next musical love of your life.