The 8 Worst Music Trends Of 2024

The 8 Worst Music Trends Of 2024

It’s time for another Stereogum tradition: itemizing our least favorite music trends of the year. And boy, did 2024 give us some big ones, some real heavy shit; this is gonna be a long one. Let’s kick things off with a trend that was brewing in 2023, but really popped off this year…

AI in music isn’t going anywhere

There are lots of reasons to oppose generative AI: copyright and privacy violations; corporations using it as a tool to put artists out of work; the way it encourages an indifferent approach to artmaking (as Brian Eno wrote about well); the data centers that power it all causing environmental destruction at an unprecedented scale and also literally destroying people’s ears.

But artificial intelligence is so ubiquitous, so beloved of industry suits, and so willing to throw money at artists in exchange for promo and legitimacy, that it’s becoming impossible to maintain a principled stance. This is kind of analogous to the “good art by bad people” debate: it’s easy to boycott work by artists you don’t like — Kanye West recently used AI to recreate his very-much-alive daughters in the video for his and Ty Dolla $ign’s Yuno Miles collab — much harder when there’s an emotional connection. Are you a Björk stan? Time to grapple with her working with AI companies for her art-world installations. How about Mannequin Pussy? They made a video using generative AI that got a lot of pushback. So did Washed Out. So did IDLES. So did Rush’s Alex Lifeson. Meanwhile, Kesha, Tears for Fears, and Tedeschi Trucks Band all shared cover art or concert posters created with AI. This list is incomplete and almost certainly includes a few artists you love. (The surprising one for me: I loved Metronomy drummer Anna Prior’s record Almost Love, and only found out that its several music videos incorporated AI imagery while reporting this list.)

Suppose you’re determined to maintain a hard line, though, abandoning your fandoms to boycott everything AI. That’s a harder task than it may seem. You can’t necessarily spot AI work by its quality; humans are just as capable of producing low-effort, cynical, derivative work as machines. Was Katy Perry’s “Woman’s World” teaser AI slop or – like its accompanying record – the good ol’ human variety? You can’t rely on “AI detection” tools either since they’re prone to false positives, claiming something was AI-generated when it wasn’t. Were Drake’s vocals on Toronto “parody rapper” Snowd4y’s “Wah Gwan Delilah” AI deepfakes, or Drake collecting yet another paycheck by giving a C-lister an especially phoned-in verse? According to two AI-detection companies Billboard contacted: inconclusive.

Meanwhile, it’s a near-certainty that songwriters and producers are either quietly using generative AI to write lyrics, doctor vocal takes, and make beats, or outsourcing the process to companies that are. The biggest AI-involved hit of 2024 (that we know about) was “BBL Drizzy,” a late entry into the Kendrick Lamar-Drake feud. Producer Metro Boomin, in longstanding rap tradition, invited rappers both established and aspiring to jump on the beat and further desecrate Drake’s proverbial course.

The vibes quickly went rancid: it soon came out that comedian, “content creator,” and clout-chaser King Willonius fed prompts to a generator by AI startup Udio (which is being sued by the RIAA, incidentally) for the beat and used Midjourney to generate the cover art. (This is actually multiple instances of AI threatening people’s livelihoods: obviously an AI beat is a beat not created by a human, but producers, reluctant to pay the licensing costs for big splashy samples, have long hired “sample replay” companies that get uncredited session singers to quietly re-sing the original vocals.) .Willonius did write the Drake disses himself – or so he says, but why would he lie about one AI but admit to two others?

All this was news to Metro Boomin (or so he says). If the megaproducer couldn’t tell the difference, what hope do laypeople have? Spotify, meanwhile, is being accused of pushing “ghost artists” in its playlists — it’s unclear if any of them are AI-generated. Related: you can now get “Jerry Garcia” to read this article to you in 32 languages.

Artists claiming to have come up with “100 songs” for their upcoming albums

Beyoncé revealed to the press earlier this year that she recorded about 100 songs for Cowboy Carter: “Once that [was] done, I [was] able to put the puzzle together and realize the consistencies and the common themes, and then create a solid body of work.” Justin Timberlake was a little more casual: “Narrowing [100-ish songs] down to 18 was a thing.” It sure is was! Bragging that you’ve written 100 songs is as much of an album-promo cliché as proclaiming that you’ve written your most personal work ever. (To sample some older headlines, Ed Sheeran said he recorded hundreds of songs for Subtract, and Carly Rae Jepsen confessed being so much of “an overwriter” that Emotion had 200 songs to pick from.)

When enough artists boast about their uniquely prolific vaults, it no longer sounds impressive. Which sounds better? Being a prolific auteur, spending every day tirelessly perfecting so many masterpieces that you can’t choose between them? Or admitting the mundane truth that you probably went to a big songwriting camp with dozens of other songwriters, sat in on some of the many sessions, and hopefully did more than changing a word and getting a third? We will give a few style points to Cardi B, who backed up her own “100 songs” statement by presenting “numerous files titled ‘Cunty’ on her computer”; and several points for honesty to Dua Lipa, who not only traced the actual songwriting notebook of 100 potential Radical Optimism songs back to the CVS where she got it, but admitted that “about 80 of them” weren’t good enough to get released.

Pop stars issuing “deluxe” albums mere days after the original came out, in a blatant attempt to debut at #1

The nice thing about writing 100 songs is that if you need to put out some new music fast – for instance, if you have an album that you’re worried isn’t going to hit #1 on the charts – you can just do that immediately, then do it again if you need to, and then again.

By now fans have accepted being pressured to constantly stream and repurchase records in order to access artists’ extended universe of shockingly easy-to-come-by rarities: the Japan-only track, the Target-only track, the Tidal-only track. But 2024 saw new lows of gimmickry. Do bonus tracks really count as bonus tracks if they’re just voice memos, like some of the extras from Taylor Swift’s 34 versions of The Tortured Poets Department? Is it really a deluxe album if it self-destructs 24 hours after release, as Sabrina Carpenter’s did?

In her announcement, Carpenter sugarcoated the matter: “surprise bitch! I wrote ‘Busy Woman’ with jack and amy just after i turned in short n’ sweet and was so sad i couldn’t include it… it’s one of my favorites so i wanted to give it to you as a thank you for all of the love!!!!!” Fans are generally savvy to this game, though, and extremely willing to play it, so these days artists are willing to be much more honest about what they’re doing. Charli XCX advertised the Brat deluxe edition with sassy candor: Brat and it’s the same but there’s three more songs so it’s not. Ariana Grande outright admitted that her Eternal Sunshine follow-up release was only “slightly deluxe.” Daniel Tashian, who co-produced Kacey Musgraves’ Deeper Well, promoted its deluxe download with bonus track “Ruthless” by writing, “Apparently we are on the brink of @spaceykacey having her first @billboard number one album debut! This would be incredible – but we need a little extra magic to make it happen … the whole album AND bonus track is only SIX BUCKS.”

These deluxes are often limited-edition downloads since those weigh more than streams in measuring album units toward Billboard 200 placement. Travis Scott’s Days Before Rodeo came in six “Vault” versions, Coldplay’s Music Of The Spheres deluxe had five versions of “My Universe,” and while Katy Perry’s 143: I Love You More didn’t top the album chart, sixth place is pretty good for what was ultimately Metacritic’s worst-rated album of the year.

Artists raging against the industry machine in order to win petty beef

Three things can be true at once. One: the music industry has a sordid history: payola scandals, rock-bottom payouts for streams, predatory contracts, and all the other stuff that the late Steve Albini famously likened to “a trench filled with runny, decaying shit.” Two: There’s probably much more of that than what’s been reported. Three: In 2024, the loudest voices speaking out against this industry corruption came from artists trying to make extremely petty points.

Let’s go back to Sabrina Carpenter. There’s a reason she released all those deluxe albums: the stakes are intense. Short n’ Sweet was released the same week as Travis Scott’s Days Before Rodeo and ultimately outsold the mixtape by only about 1,000 units. Sabrina Carpenter celebrated with some mild pettiness, thawing out old Nicki Minaj beef (and ingratiating herself to the Barbs) by claiming vengeance for the past Scott “victory” of Astroworld outselling Nicki’s Queen.

Then someone from Scott’s label Cactus Jack Records – who clarified they were “not reaching out as management for an upset artist but instead on behalf of Cactus Jack Records,” whatever that means – sent an unsigned letter demanding that Billboard and data company Luminate stop the steal. According to Vulture, the first piece of evidence in that letter an email from Shopify’s store app informing Cactus Jack Records that “about 1000 units” of album sales would be reported late. Notably, the label had already replied to that email: “all good not worth the headache.”

The second piece of evidence: a Luminate employee’s LinkedIn profile showing that they had worked at Island Records until 2021, the year Carpenter signed to the label. Cactus Jack accused that employee of cooking the books on Sabrina’s behalf due to… being a secret sleeper agent? Getting a payout from a job they left three years ago? Wanting to retroactively add a bullet-point accomplishment to their resume? “Occam’s razor principle dictates the explanation that requires the fewest assumptions is usually correct,” the letter read. Sure does!

Hey, at least Scott wasn’t trying to sue his own label, as Drake threatened after Kendrick Lamar’s “Not Like Us” became a smash hit despite (or because of) calling the OVO crew “certified pedophiles.” In two meandering legal filings, he accused Spotify of artificially boosting Kendrick’s numbers with playlist payola (which the company has denied) and Universal Music of engineering the song’s virality “to drive consumer hysteria.” Glossed over were the facts that record labels wanting to score a viral hit is pretty weaksauce as conspiracies go, that Spotify notoriously promoted Drake’s own Scorpion so heavily that people demanded refunds from the company, and that Universal was Drake’s own label, and thus invested in the career of their massive star.

But don’t hate the player, hate the game. As Jelly Roll’s Beautifully Broken and Charli XCX’s Brat and it’s completely different but also still brat battled for #1, both artists’ labels were “making a concerted effort to scrub the other’s claims and get numbers thrown out,” HITS reported. This came as a shock to Jelly. “My manager just sits me down,” he told Pat McAfee. “He goes, ‘Look man, I didn’t want you to get in a situation where you was aware what was happening when you start getting in these conversations for #1 albums because it’s just real dirty business, like old-school dirty business.'”

Gimmicky musician-branded Airbnbs

OK, all of that was pretty heavy — how about a little “fun”?

Airbnb has had a rough couple of years: recently, multiple markets, including New York City, San Francisco, Amsterdam, and Paris have either heavily restricted the kind of short-term rentals the company profited off or banned them entirely. To renters, this means thousands of properties reverting back from glorified hotel rooms to people’s actual homes. But to Airbnb, this means it’s time to pivot. This summer, the company launched an “Icons” program, that it described as “a new batch of epic stays and experiences around the globe in unimaginable places” – many involving musicians. Smaller companies got into the game this year too: boutique Chicago group Open House Contemporary joined American Football and their label to put the band’s famous Champaign house up for rent, while real-estate agent and concert booker David Lorrison renovated Jeff Buckley’s Memphis home as a tribute destination.

A sampling of AirBnb’s offerings: A few K-pop fans got to spend the night on the set of SEVENTEEN’s music video “LOVE, MONEY, FAME” and receive assorted swag. Doja Cat hosted a one-night “Doja Cat experience” where, the listing announced, she personally whisked 15 fans away to “an undisclosed location” to enjoy a short concert, a personalized playlist, “a spread of only the finest bites for you to devour – fancy fruits, cheeses, and her favorite, caviar.” (Perhaps Doja wanted to walk back her famously uninviting stance toward her fanbase?) Pete Best’s Casbah Coffee Club, famous for hosting some of the Beatles’ earliest concerts, was already in the tourist business to capitalize on its role in Beatles lore. They too have partnered with Airbnb, naming three available rooms after Beatles members (no points for guessing which three).

The company’s big marquee listing, though, and the one that really captures why this trend made the list, is the house from Prince’s Purple Rain. Prince repurchased the then-rundown property for $117,000 in 2015, according to Minneapolis St. Paul Magazine. His estate, along with Princeworld musicians Wendy & Lisa, restored the house to resemble its appearance in the film. Then Airbnb invited a couple dozen people to stay there for just $7, choosing a longlist at random then winnowing it down based on applicants’ answers to a college essay-like prompt on why they wanted to stay there.

Despite the “you’re a fan? Name three of his albums”-esque application process, the listing itself bears clues that the Purple Rain House is less a destination for superfans than a future Instagram trap for casuals. There are QR codes scattered around the house with “personal commentary,” and exactly one of Prince’s demo recordings available to hear. (“yes, u read that right,” the listing boasts, with the implied audience of people who haven’t already found lots of Prince rarities on the Internet.)

The home’s amenities, meanwhile, are mostly better-decorated versions of things you could just do yourself. Prince’s wardrobe is locked up, but you can peruse “a collection of ‘80s-inspired outfits to elicit your inner rockstar.” There’s a “muse lounge” containing various instruments and “instructions to play the chorus of ‘Purple Rain,'” and a “When Doves Cry”-themed “spa room” with the rare amenities of … a purple robe and lavender bath bombs. There’s also an escape room for some reason.

Two takeaways here. One: if Prince were alive, he’d tell everyone involved to go purify themselves in the waters of Lake Minnetonka. Two: The whole “millennials like experiences, not stuff” thing was a mistake, and we should just go back to stuff.

K-pop stars having to publicly apologize for innocuous things

This year American listeners launched releases by K-pop groups Twice, Ateez, and Stray Kids to the top of the album chart. Stray Kids actually had two chart-toppers this year, and the current one Giant makes them the first act ever to have its first six Billboard 200 entries debut at #1. But with great chart power comes great potential to fuck up in the eyes of stans. In 2024:

From that last example, per CNN:

Some outraged fans even sent a truck with an electronic billboard to the headquarters of Karina’s agency, according to the Chosun Ilbo newspaper, which published a photo of the sign. “Do you not get enough love from your fans?” it read. “Why did you choose to betray your fans?”

“Please apologize directly. Otherwise, you’ll see declining album sales and empty concert seats,” it added.

For good measure, it should be noted, the beleaguered Kpop behemoth HYBE also apologized for derogatory things the company wrote about artists in leaked documents.

Kpop stans, we see you mean business. Please don’t DDoS attack Stereogum again.

Musicians posting heavily branded Instagram reminders about imposter accounts

If you’re unfortunate enough to have a catfish or scammer or disgruntled ex-friend (or, purely hypothetically, a disgruntled stan) make a fake Instagram profile impersonating you, then you already know that Instagram will most likely do absolutely nothing about it. You can report them all you want, but you’ll most likely hear back within five minutes from an AI that actually, it’s totally OK to maliciously impersonate someone else. Multiple Stereogum staffers have been in this situation.

And apparently this isn’t just a problem for us normies. Famous musicians deal with this too, and they have enough problems getting them taken down that their teams regularly clutter their feeds with constant Instagram posts warning fans not to fall for the fake accounts, no matter how many surprise messages they receive with promises of free tickets, backstage passages, and/or marriage proposals. It’s not a new thing, but this year it was worse than ever.

Obviously, it’s understandable and admirable that musicians want to protect their fans (despite the fact that anyone seeing these posts is already interacting with the real account). But artists are still beholden to the algorithms of the feed, and they too must feed it the eye-catching content it wants.

So while some bands just throw up a quick, no-nonsense text post or screenshot, many artists feel the need to turn their reminders into polished, on-brand communications. A quick sampling: Dwight Yoakam posted a chiaroscuro stage shot with his message. Nancy Sinatra made her reminder pretty in pink. Chris Isaak went for the gritty Americana look; Alice Cooper’s alert looked like an edgy teen’s Geocities page. The vibe is vaguely self-promotional and impersonal – although, given how friendly scammers’ DMs tend to be, maybe that’s the point?

In any case, they were in good company this year — Lucinda Williams, Toto, Carl Cox, Dogstar, Testament, Steve Perry, Pixies, Simple Minds, Billy Morrison, Jamey Johnson, Warren Ellis, Billy Joel, Trace Adkins, Melissa Etheridge, Van Morrison, and Tom Jones were also among the many, many artists who had to share warnings this year. And it’s not just boomer musicians who have to deal with this shit; if you’ve been DMing with Tegan Quin, we have some bad news.

Industry achievements by nepo babies not even in their tweens

Let’s close this out quick. The term “nepo babies” wasn’t supposed to mean actual babies, but that seems to be how things are trending. Beyoncé and Jay-Z’s daughter Rumi Carter (age 6) broke her older sister Blue Ivy’s record by becoming the youngest female artist to make Billboard’s Hot 100, with her appearance on Bey’s “Protector.” Kanye West and Kim Kardashian’s daughter North West also hit the Hot 100 at 10 years old by guesting on her dad and Ty Dolla $ign’s Vultures 1. Meanwhile Hazel Monét (a toddler) tagged along for her mother Victoria’s “Hollywood,” making her the youngest Grammy nominee ever. (Counterexample: Willow (age 10)’s “Whip My Hair” is good actually.)

Dis(honorable) mentions

This list is already long enough, but to everyone who “went country” on albums or collab singles this year — Beyoncé, Post Malone, Machine Gun Kelly, Avril Lavigne, Dua Lipa, Lana Del Rey, Yung Gravy, Zayn, Monica, NLE Choppa, Shawn Mendes, Kesha, Gwen Stefani, Sully Erna, Chappell Roan, Anthony Raneri, Bill Medley, the Wiggles, Ringo Starr (again), et al. — congrats, but Julien Baker and Torres are the last we’ll allow.

And! Those “Great Depression-coded” lookalike contests for musicians like Zayn, Clairo, Harry Styles, Drake, and even Mk.gee? Let’s leave them in 2024.

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