How today's music wants to sell us nostalgia

Musicians and music enthusiasts, pull out your old iPods, your Soundcloud playlists, your CDs, and your cassettes: it seems that nostalgia is the living music of this period. There's something special about hearing a song from the past being brought back to life. The muscle memory and sentimental feelings—both good and bad—that a past hit unfreezes and brings to the surface are unparalleled. This could explain why the success of Sophie Ellis Bextor in 2001, Murder on the Dancefloor (a perfect example of the fun and apocalyptic uncertainty of the early 2000s), has become a highlight for fans of the sinfully debauched Saltburn. But that's not all; the engaging disco-inspired melody is trending on TikTok, 22 years later. Undoubtedly, it's something for which you all can respect TikTok: inspiring this sonic nostalgia through endless creative trends.

This deep desire to satisfy nostalgia for the past would also explain why Nicki Minaj and Ye ironically sought two different samples of Everybody by the Backstreet Boys for the first singles promoting their latest albums. Meanwhile, Nicki Minaj perfected the track Move Your Feet from the early 2000s by the Danish duo Junior Senior to create an uptempo club-style banger with Lil Uzi Vert. Interesting. Rumors that American hip-hop is uninspired and in decline might explain why top lyricists look back in time to create media buzz. Enter The Secret Recipe by Lil Yachty ft. J Cole, sampling the funky chic of the '70s from "We Need We." Also successful in this case. An unreleased Yachty freestyle is currently circulating—informally titled Die for my Respect. The reason for this resurgence and praise? You fans are fascinated by his use of the sweet and groovy rock melody from 1977 inspired by My Life by a group called Citation.

Naturally, sampling and interpolating (reusing or reworking the melodic essence of a song) or the full return of an old song is nothing new, without wordplay. Mariah Carey could tell you all about Christmas remakes. Even Drake could teach you the art of sampling. But right now, something deeper is clearly happening in music. For example, Taylor Swift's recent "Era" tour, which recorded record-breaking success and critical acclaim, was essentially fueled by nostalgia for fans' experiences over the years, spanning her 10 albums. The way her music has managed to still encapsulate the adolescent spirit and memories of an entire generation of young adults was enough for Harvard to study her handwriting and success. You must give Taylor Swift the respect she deserves.

But it doesn't end there. Nowadays, it seems that the mere thought of seeing musical legends in front of the audience—happy, healthy, and aging backward—also triggers this nostalgia. Have you seen Diana Ross in Anthony Vaccarello's YSL campaign, right? Didn't it make you want to sing a song from her catalog? No? And when Cher and Usher took over last season's fashion week? Haven't you searched for tickets to Usher's upcoming tour? His upcoming Superbowl concert and successful Vegas residency indicate that you probably did. The fashion and influence marketing research center Lefty.IO attributes this phenomenon to the "celebrity peak" as we know it and the rise of "carefreeness" from consumers and OG celebrities. In other words, you agree on not having new superstars anymore; you're freeing yourselves from the overwhelming pressure to follow new stars and new sounds, returning to your first musical crushes—as well as the artists you love. Music scholars like Frank Ocean, Lauryn Hill, and Andre 3000 have literally built their brand—and wealth—on their mystique and glory days, meaning their old but amazing songs (including Ex-Factor by Lauryn Hill) are continually sampled, reused, and appreciated. Almost every week too (source: again, TikTok and the countless times we've heard Frank's Nights there). Also, trying to spot Frank Ocean on his bike in New York or randomly in Hyde Park in London has become a sport on social media. It seems that many fans aspire to give a relatable face to the feelings his storytelling songs have echoed for years. Evoking nostalgia is good for business.

Pessimistically: perhaps the speed at which we seek and create sounds for reels or TikTok means we're running out of entirely new, sample-free music. Perhaps it means the thin line between sampling and outright music theft is getting thinner. Or on the positive side, many of us might use our love for familiar tunes to shape our character. Maybe we're all refining and improving our musical tastes. With the help of IG curation pages like Saving Connie and Frenchy Says Relax, perhaps we're learning the power and sophistication of cherishing impactful music even after it's left Billboard's Hot 100 chart. For now, it seems that this passion for classics can only be a good thing.