Why we are heading into a new era of recession pop
You may have noticed this in the past few years. Clubs are full again – and have a new life, thanks to dance music that actually makes people want to dance. Modern culture has been overtaken by the hedonism of brat summer. Even the modern Vaudeville of TikTok – where everyone is striving for a glimpse of digital fame that is probably not even worth having – reflects the kind of emotional world we live in.
Relatability is out, fantasy to the point of mythology is what we're seeing now.
To me, this seems the point of what's happening in culture around the world. If the prevailing feeling of the 2010s was despair, which might be absolved on the dance floor, the prevailing feeling of the mid-2020s is that of anger, blown up on the dance floor, opening the possibility of redemption and restitution. Recession pop is back.
It's the hooky, jaunty music that uses camp, sequins and bright lights to make vulnerability seem less scary. In a world beset by crisis, this kind of overwrought art is what draws people in. Unsurprisingly, it emerged at the height of the global financial crisis. It's hedonism, pure and simple. When the world is burning down, we might as well have a hell of a party at the end.
Late last month, I went to Kesha's sold-out stop at Madison Square Garden, where she is touring for the first time as a performer who owns the rights to her own music, after a decade-long court battle ended in 2023.
In her banger Red Flag, Kesha sings 'I want emotions that are overflowing' – emblematic of the world she helped to usher in on first taking the global stage in the middle of an economic downturn, with a sound and vibe that would come to define the era.
The last time this cultural shift happened was about 2008, as the financial crisis was biting and stars such as Kesha and Lady Gaga, and their imitators, ruled the airwaves.
There was a sense that a future was no longer possible, and art shifted towards the possibility of the next few minutes of pleasure. It borrowed from the inaccessibility of 2000s-era It Girls such as Paris Hilton and Nicole Richie and became something people could disappear into, letting the fantasy and glamour of such artists, who presented a vision of a world entirely separated from their own, drench them.
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The nature of celebrity is changing, and we should pay attention. You may have noticed this in the past few years. Clubs are full again – and have a new life, thanks to dance music that actually makes people want to dance. Modern culture has been overtaken by the hedonism of brat summer. Even the modern Vaudeville of TikTok – where everyone is striving for a glimpse of digital fame that is probably not even worth having – reflects the kind of emotional world we live in. Relatability is out, fantasy to the point of mythology is what we're seeing now. To me, this seems the point of what's happening in culture around the world. If the prevailing feeling of the 2010s was despair, which might be absolved on the dance floor, the prevailing feeling of the mid-2020s is that of anger, blown up on the dance floor, opening the possibility of redemption and restitution. Recession pop is back. It's the hooky, jaunty music that uses camp, sequins and bright lights to make vulnerability seem less scary. In a world beset by crisis, this kind of overwrought art is what draws people in. Unsurprisingly, it emerged at the height of the global financial crisis. It's hedonism, pure and simple. When the world is burning down, we might as well have a hell of a party at the end. Late last month, I went to Kesha's sold-out stop at Madison Square Garden, where she is touring for the first time as a performer who owns the rights to her own music, after a decade-long court battle ended in 2023. In her banger Red Flag, Kesha sings 'I want emotions that are overflowing' – emblematic of the world she helped to usher in on first taking the global stage in the middle of an economic downturn, with a sound and vibe that would come to define the era. The last time this cultural shift happened was about 2008, as the financial crisis was biting and stars such as Kesha and Lady Gaga, and their imitators, ruled the airwaves. There was a sense that a future was no longer possible, and art shifted towards the possibility of the next few minutes of pleasure. It borrowed from the inaccessibility of 2000s-era It Girls such as Paris Hilton and Nicole Richie and became something people could disappear into, letting the fantasy and glamour of such artists, who presented a vision of a world entirely separated from their own, drench them.
