Streaming: Dirhams and Decibels in Rhythm

In the Kingdom where chaâbi flirts with thumping rap, recorded music has crowned its king: streaming. The IFPI’s 2025 Global Music Report sets the global stage: a tenth year of growth, 296 billion dirhams in revenue (+4.8%), with 204 billion driven by digital (69% of the pie, surpassing the industry’s total annual earnings between 2003 and 2020).

Vinyl holds steady (+4.6%), but CDs and other relics fade. In this grand orchestra, Morocco emerges—quiet yet vibrant—caught in an unforgiving sonic storm. The spotlight turns to the Middle East and North Africa (MENA), the brash regional champion with 22.8% growth in 2024.

Streaming reigns supreme here, claiming 99.5% of revenue. Morocco, with 38 million souls and 30 million internet users, joins the march. Statista reports a local streaming market worth 255.6 million dirhams in 2024—a drop compared to the U.S.’s 121.1 billion—but galloping toward 295.7 million by 2027 (+4.98% annually).

Behind these figures, 2.4 million users (6.3% of the population) tap their feet on Spotify, Anghami, or Deezer. In three years, stats predict 2.8 million users. Physical formats? Crushed to under 1%—farewell, nostalgia.

Youth set the tempo, glued to smartphones and idols. ElGrandeToto, rap’s kingpin, and Manal, a blazing modern star, dominate playlists, while chaâbi and raï new wave, turbocharged by digital, soar to Europe’s diaspora.

Record labels smell opportunity, investing heavily, and the IFPI applauds: it pays. But how many streams? The question cracks like a bendir drum, and numbers dodge. Neither IFPI nor Spotify spills the beans for Morocco. Speculation: if the Kingdom captures 5–10% of MENA’s market—a gamble against Saudi Arabia or Egypt—revenues might dance between 500 million and 1 billion dirhams. Raw streams? Zilch.

A bold leap: 2.4 million users averaging 50 monthly streams globally would mean 120 million monthly plays—1.44 billion annually. A mirage, though: purchasing power, stuck at 3,300 dirhams/month, stifles premium subscriptions (50–100 dirhams), while YouTube, sultan of free streaming, muddies the waters.

Pay subscribers—200,000 to 500,000—remain a niche tribe. For scraps, Spotify’s Top 50 Morocco: an ElGrandeToto hit at 32,000 daily streams (scraped from X) nears 11.68 million yearly. With 50 stars, you flirt with 584 million streams. The rest? Spotify hides its cards like a Sufi guarding verses.

The picture creaks. While subscriptions rise 9.5% globally (even higher in MENA), Morocco’s rural areas lag. Cities sprint with 80% internet penetration, but villages struggle, far from redeeming 4G.

The state flexes power: a 2024 tax on digital services has reined in Spotify and peers—a move that could either boost revenues or stunt momentum.

In the end, one refrain echoes: from Tangier to Lagouira, ElGrandeToto’s beats and Gnawa chants hit hard. Between 1 and 2 billion annual streams, perhaps, mixing Statista, IFPI, and a dash of audacity.

For the true tally, we’d need Spotify Morocco to break its silence—no guarantee it’ll sing. Streaming has seized the throne. Now, who will claim the dirhams in this Kingdom midst a digital frenzy?

Jam Show, Act II: Rap Takes Over the Small Screen

After a debut season that shook the game in 2024, Jam Show returns for Season 2. No more taboos, no more rap confined to neighborhood shadows: the show, now an icon of a generation, plants the mic in living rooms and makes walls tremble.

This time, 2M enlists a titan duo to steer the ship: Don Bigg and Shobee. These giants of Moroccan rap, who’ve carved their rhymes into asphalt and charts, aren’t here to coddle flows. As judges of this revamped Jam Show, they’re hunting for that rare spark—an MC who wields darija like a blade and moves millions of souls.

Season 1 unveiled Nizar Zouhri (aka Nezar), a kid from Azilal turned hero with his stuffed teddy bear and a 250,000 DH prize to fund his EP. In 2025, 24 new warriors, aged 18 to 35, emerge from neighborhoods and provinces, mics in hand, to spit their truth. Selected from hundreds of applicants, they’ll battle over six weeks in 60-minute episodes where every rhyme is a matter of survival.

Don Bigg and Shobee aren’t chasing fleeting stars—they want voices that leave marks, hit hard, and endure. In a country where censorship lurks and professional studios are scarce, rap remains a weapon of ingenuity, a street art scaling new heights.

In 2024, Nezar lit the flame. In 2025, who will set the scene ablaze? One thing’s certain: On 2M, Moroccan rap isn’t asking for permission. It’s taking the mic—and it’s crushing.