Why My Playlist Has Not Changed for a Decade

Hannah O’Neill

It’s 2023! Another new year, causing many to reflect on the year just passed. The ending of a year brings with it an array of feelings. For some, joy and excitement. For others, anxiety, and fear over the rapid passing of time. Likelihood is, many of us feel a mix of both. Amongst the manic moments of 21st century life, music holds power over time and sense. From streaming services to small town radios, or during live gigs, human experience is accompanied by melodies and lyrics, perhaps more than ever before. However, popular opinion over recent years has noticed a ‘change’ in the feelings brought on by popular melodies, in comparison with those of the 2010s. Playlist ‘All Out 2010s’ curated by streaming service Spotify has garnered an impressive seven million plus likes/follows. Additionally, one glance at the recent Pepsi Super Bowl Halftime Show performances reiterates the public's love for the period - 2018: Justin Timberlake, 2019: Maroon 5, 2020: Shakira and Jennifer Lopez. Nostalgia is not by any means a new concept within music, but the desire for the sounds of the 2010s perhaps speaks much to the contemporary state itself.

Image Courtesy of Kapok

This infatuation with the music of the period runs parallel to the fabrication of modern pop culture. Music holds power over popularity, discourse, and social commentary. Additionally, film, TV, fashion, media, and fame often intersect with the domination of music. Such is seen in the fascination of movie remakes, and the familiar faces starring in them. Notably, Avatar: The Way of Water, and Mamma Mia, Here We Go Again return to our screens after over a decade. The acclaimed show ‘Euphoria’ informs trends in music, clothing, make-up, and artistry. Yet it is often compared to the iconic British series ‘Skins’ (2007-2013), which dominated culture. Additionally, the legacy of Vine is secure in TikTok. The culture of the 2010s has seemingly been preserved in amber.  

Perhaps the precarious state of modern life holds some insight. Following Covid-19, the past years have provided a world similar in physicality, yet different in feeling. The joint experience gained during the pandemic haunts the rhythm and beat of day-to-day life. Instability composed a blurred future. Now, in such a future, music acts as time travel back to the pandemic. From Taylor Swift’s Folklore to Phoebe Bridgers’ Punisher, and the Foo Fighters’ Times like These. This music was a source of strength for me through fear and apocalypse. Artistry brought joy and safety, now sounds from the period bring a nostalgia of both fear and uncertainty. To ask why we love the sounds of the early 2010s perhaps lies in its existence before a radically shifting world.

Is this why? Is it the sounds before the now, and the signage of precarious times that bring the most joy? The days preceding constant conversations of the climate crisis, and surging cases of disease? Before the popular realisation that nothing is eternal, not even us.

The music of the early 2010s likely speaks especially to Millennials and Gen Z. Paying homage to endless summer evenings, bleak winter school mornings, and youthful friendships coined from growing older. The pandemic intercepted all walks of life, yet taught humanity of an existence outside of social normality. The halting of work, the economy, travel, contact, and the traditional definition of ‘living’, and ‘humanity’. Self-education, compassion, and sacrifices provided new forms of hope and solidarity. How then can art, life, or music truly ever feel the same? After all, lessons can never be unlearned, or rather unheard.

Image courtesy of: Hal Leonard

Music feels different personally, and publicly. Perhaps such public feeling has the power to encourage a return to the security of the 2010s. Many issues explored throughout the pandemic, social inequalities, classism, and ecological crisis, highlighted the urgent requirement for change. Music feels different because we are. Ironically, we should be thankful for this ‘change’. To solve a problem, we must first hear it.


Hannah O’Neill is a third year English and Sociology student at Queen’s University Belfast