Quince — the $10 billion direct-to-consumer fashion brand that has spent the last two years soundtracking its TikTok ads with the biggest songs in the world — spent those same two years soaking itself in high-octane copyright infringement. On April 16, 2026, Universal Music Group — the label behind Sabrina Carpenter, Britney Spears, Fleetwood Mac, and roughly a third of the music you've ever heard — lit a match in the Northern District of California and said: I'll throw it, or you can pay for what you stole. The complaint is UMG Recordings, Inc. v. Last Brand, Inc., No. 3:26-cv-03244. The claims are direct, contributory, and vicarious copyright infringement. The statutory damages ceiling is $150,000 per infringed work, and UMG has alleged willfulness, which is the magic word that unlocks the maximum.

The suit isn't novel — it's the eighth or ninth of its kind in two years. It matters because the specific thing Quince is accused of doing is the thing almost every creator on TikTok and almost every brand running influencer campaigns is also doing, mostly without realizing it's illegal. The button in the app that says "Use This Sound" is not a license. It only looks like one.

Five Songs, Two Dead Artists, and One Creator Whose Video Got Hijacked

The complaint walks through five posts. Cookware scored to Etta James's "A Sunday Kind of Love." A bedding giveaway promoting Quince's "dreamiest bedding bundle," scored — without apparent irony — to Fleetwood Mac's "Dreams." A suitcase ad using Sabrina Carpenter's "Espresso," posted ten days after the song was released. A linen blazer ad using Brenton Wood's "Oogum Boogum," still live on Quince's account when Wood died in January 2025 and still live when UMG sent its demand letter seven months later. A cashmere sweater post using Britney Spears's "Gimme More."

The complaint also alleges that when Quince reposted a paid-partnership video from a creator named @annejelicadenise, it made exactly one substantive edit: it replaced the creator's (presumably cleared) audio with a UMG song because it sounded better. That paragraph is going to do a lot of work on willfulness.

If You've Ever Scored a Paid Post With a TikTok Sound, Keep Reading

Here is the part that matters for everyone who isn't a $10 billion fashion brand. Almost every creator on TikTok and Instagram believes that if a song is in the in-app library, they can use it. TikTok licensed it from the label. The app is serving it up with a "use this sound" button. Of course it's cleared. It is cleared — for personal, non-commercial use. That's the entire scope of the platform license. There's a separate Commercial Music Library for business accounts — free, about a million tracks, indie artists and instrumentals only. No Sabrina Carpenter, no Britney, no Fleetwood Mac. Those are exactly the tracks the labels haven't cleared for commercial use, because the labels want brands to pay for a sync license the way brands have paid for sync licenses since the 1950s.

The moment anyone pays you — cash, free product, affiliate commissions, a discount code with your name on it — the personal-use license evaporates. You and the brand paying you now need a sync license from the master owner (the label) and a separate sync license from the publisher. Both. Every time. No exceptions for micro-influencers, for ten-second clips, or for posts that "only got 2,000 views." It's not a new rule. It's a rule almost nobody follows.

Quince's FAFO Moment

Most small creators who misuse music aren't willful infringers — they genuinely don't know better. Quince doesn't get that defense. UMG sent a demand letter in September 2024. Quince's counsel wrote back in November 2024 that the concerns had been "fully addressed." By April 2025, UMG found new infringing posts and confirmed the old ones were still live. In March 2026, Quince posted seven more, including tracks by Olivia Dean, Justin Bieber, and Zara Larsson. "Willful" under the Copyright Act means knowing, or reckless disregard for, the infringing nature of the conduct. Quince was told. Quince said it had fixed it. Quince hadn't. Quince kept going. That's the ballgame on the $150,000-per-work ceiling.

This Is the Eighth or Ninth Brand to Walk Into This Buzzsaw

The label enforcement playbook was tested on Bang Energy in 2022 and has run on a roughly quarterly cadence ever since. Defendants have mostly settled confidentially or are still litigating after choosing to slam their genitals in the kitchen silverware drawer.

None of these defendants had a good answer. Quince probably won't have a good answer either. Expect a confidential settlement before discovery opens up the Quince creative team's group chat.

What Normies Should Actually Do About This

If you're a creator who has ever scored a paid post with audio pulled from the in-app library, you are technically a copyright infringer. So far the labels have focused on brands because brands are where the money is — but every major brand-deal contract contains an indemnity clause that lets the brand turn around and sue the creator when the label comes calling. The label might not come for you. Your brand partner's GC might. If you're a brand, the only safe posture is a licensed-music program: TikTok's Commercial Music Library for business-account content, a legitimate commercial-tier license from a catalog service that actually owns its rights (read the license before subscribing — the consumer tiers usually don't cover paid media), and an indemnity clause in every creator agreement that actually means something.

And if nothing off the shelf scratches the itch, write your own or commission one. It has never been cheaper or easier. Sabrina Carpenter's "Espresso" — the track Quince is getting sued over — is built on two or three Splice loops, a vocal take, and a mix. Any decent songwriter with a laptop can produce something radio-ready for less than the cost of defending a copyright case.

The song is never free. Personal users pay with their data. Brands that want the Sabrina Carpenter track pay the labels, the same way Pepsi has paid the labels for sixty years. Quince decided it shouldn't have to. UMG disagreed, in 30 pages, in federal court.

Table of Authorities

• UMG Recordings, Inc. v. Last Brand, Inc., No. 3:26-cv-03244 (N.D. Cal. filed Apr. 16, 2026) — complaint (CourtListener)
• UMG Recordings, Inc. v. Vital Pharmaceuticals, Inc., No. 21-cv-60914-CIV-DIMITROULEAS/SNOW, 2022 WL 2670339 (S.D. Fla. July 11, 2022)
• Sony Music Entm't v. Vital Pharmaceuticals, Inc., No. 21-22825-CIV-DIMITROULEAS, 2022 WL 4771858 (S.D. Fla. Sept. 14, 2022)
• 17 U.S.C. § 106 (Exclusive Rights in Copyrighted Works)
• 17 U.S.C. § 501 (Infringement of Copyright)
• 17 U.S.C. § 504(c) (Statutory Damages)
• 17 U.S.C. § 505 (Costs and Attorney's Fees)
• TikTok Music Terms of Service
• Meta Music Guidelines

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