How Labels/Artists Weaponize Incomplete Vinyl and CD Pressings

Some LPs and CDs are shipped without key songs to drive future purchases, inflating album sales. This bait-and-switch blurs the line between collector culture and con artistry.

On the surface, the limited-edition vinyl boom appears to be a renaissance. Artists proudly issue picture discs and coloured variants; fans queue up online and in record shops as if it were the 1970s again. Yet behind the glossy sleeves, there is a quieter trick at play—one that exploits the trust collectors place in physical media. In recent months, several blockbuster releases have shipped on vinyl and CD, missing large portions of their track lists. The omissions are not accidents or manufacturing mishaps, nor are they solely the result of a vinyl shortage. They are deliberate omissions designed to goose chart numbers and squeeze multiple purchases from the same group of fans.

The pattern became clear with Nicki Minaj’s Pink Friday 2 in December 2023. On streaming services, the album sprawls across twenty‑two tracks. The version sold on her official site and through Republic Records, however, listed just ten. Product descriptions hyped exclusivity—limited to four per customer—and the record’s bold pink color, but failed to mention that key songs like “Beep Beep,” “Let Me Calm Down,” and “Needle” were missing. Many Barbz discovered the bait‑and‑switch only after the package arrived. Lil Wayne’s Tha Carter VI took the practice further. The digital edition carries nineteen tracks with high‑profile collaborations; early vinyl and CD pressings contained only nine—essentially an A‑side of singles and a B‑side of filler. Retailers posted truncated listings without warning, and buyers shelled out forty dollars for signed copies before realizing they’d been sold an incomplete record.

Travis Scott and his Cactus Jack collective pulled the same move with JACKBOYS. Teasers hinted at a sprawling guest list, and the final streaming version runs seventeen tracks. Yet the “first pressing” vinyl—released in multiple cover variations, each tightly limited—promised only “seven select songs.” No one revealed which tracks were selected. Fans who bought both the “Bolt Cover” and “Gang Cover” discovered nearly identical mini‑albums, while the digital release quietly expanded days later. But Hurry Up Tomorrow by The Weeknd may be the most egregious example. Its cover art lists twenty‑two songs, and the standard digital release delivers them. But the first physical pressing—advertised on the XO store as an eleven‑track vinyl arriving months after the digital drop—includes only half that number. When fans realized they’d lost tracks like “Wake Me Up,” “Reflections Laughing,” and “Given Up on Me,” social media lit up with accusations of a cash grab.

The music industry faced significant vinyl production bottlenecks following the COVID-19 pandemic. Pressing plants reported lead times of nine to twelve months, forcing artists to decide whether to delay releases or issue digital and physical formats separately. Initially, some artists released vinyl with truncated track lists because their albums were unfinished when they had to finalize vinyl masters. Early examples included SZA releasing a vinyl before the mixes were complete and Beyoncé’s Cowboy Carter shipping on vinyl months after its initial streaming release. Fans were disappointed but sympathetic, chalking up omissions to production delays.

Labels soon realized that partial physical releases could be exploited. Under Billboard’s album‑equivalent calculations, one vinyl sale counts far more than a single stream. By shipping vinyl and CD pre-orders on release week—even if the track list is incomplete—labels can boost their first-week chart positions. Then, once streaming numbers plateau, they reissue the album on vinyl or digital with additional songs, spiking interest again and counting more sales. The strategy also encourages fans to buy multiple variants—standard pressing, deluxe edition, colored vinyl, alternate artwork—each of which is counted separately.

Scarcity marketing leverages the fear of missing out by making products seem rare or time‑limited. A marketing guide notes that limited availability increases perceived value and triggers urgency in consumers because “a potential customer is more likely to buy a product if they believe it will soon be unavailable.”. This principle is ubiquitous in vinyl culture: limited runs, numbered editions, exclusive color variants, and surprise drops condition fans to buy immediately. The same guide warns that scarcity marketing can be unethical when it creates or manipulates supply shortages or conceals essential information.

The release patterns for Pink Friday 2, Tha Carter VI, JACKBOYS 2, and Hurry Up Tomorrow epitomize artificial scarcity. First‑pressing vinyls are sold as limited collectibles, often with language like “limited to four per customer.” Retailers omit track lists or bury them in small print, leaving buyers to assume the product matches the digital version. When labels later issue “complete editions,” completists feel compelled to repurchase to maintain a complete collection. In effect, FOMO turns fans into repeat customers, and the chart rules reward labels for each purchase.

Vinyl collecting thrives on variation. Color variants, alternate artwork, artist‑signed copies, and retailer exclusives cater to the desire for uniqueness. Collectors often chase multiple editions of the same album to complete sets. When a truncated first pressing is marketed as an exclusive variant, it taps into this psychology. Cactus Jack’s seven‑song JACKBOYS 2 pressing, for example, came with different cover art (Bolt vs. Gang cover). Fans who buy one variant may feel pressure to acquire the others, even if neither contains the full track list.

Because fans associate vinyl with permanence and fidelity, they are inclined to believe the physical format offers the definitive version of an album. The realization that the object is incomplete undermines this trust. The tactile joy of vinyl—its art, weight, and sound—loses meaning when it becomes a vehicle for a marketing scheme.

Collectors are organizing to demand transparency. Social‑media posts compile lists of albums with incomplete first pressings and urge fans to wait for later editions. Some call for Billboard to adjust its chart methodology so that truncated physical sales are weighted less. Others threaten to boycott artists who participate in the scheme, arguing that it erodes trust between musicians and their core supporters.

From an ethical standpoint, the practice raises questions about consent and fair dealing. Selling a physical album without disclosing that it omits half the songs amounts to deception. While deluxe reissues and bonus tracks have long been part of the music business, deliberately withholding songs from the first pressing to trigger double‑purchases is qualitatively different. Pressing plants, retailers, and chart compilers are complicit when they allow incomplete products to be marketed as full albums.

The recent wave of incomplete pressings confronts the romantic idea that vinyl and CDs are sacred artifacts. If physical copies no longer guarantee a complete album, what is the point of buying them beyond speculation? Will collectors continue to support a format that requires multiple purchases to obtain all the music? How long can labels sustain this strategy before fans disengage, especially when streaming provides instant access to full track lists at a fraction of the cost?

The industry must reckon with these questions. Transparency about track lists should be mandatory for physical releases. Chart rules may be updated to exclude partial albums from full sales counts. Labels could still offer exclusive artwork or bonus tracks without omitting core songs. Pressing plants and retailers should refuse to participate in practices that undermine customer trust. Ultimately, the value of vinyl and CD lies in their completeness and permanence. If the artifact is no longer sacred, collector culture may fracture, and the golden era of physical music could end not with a bang but with a whimper.