They call me a cockeyed poptimist
This past Wednesday I, along with what felt like every homosexual in the five borough’s, packed into Radio City Music Hall to bear witness to our favorite, sword-bearing savior of pop music, Miss Carly Rae Jepsen. It was an incredible evening, one could hardly catch their breath from the sheer amount of bops, bangers, and slays that she was throwing at us. Singing along to the songs that have defined my late-teenagerdom/early adulthood was such a joy and it was wonderful to see Carly in her element performing to thousands of people in a historic venue, especially when considering the rather rocky career trajectory she’s faced.
To the vast, vast majority of people out there, Carly is still the “Call Me Maybe Girl.” There are far worse things to be than the singer-songwriter of one of the best pop songs of the 2010’s, one that Billboard claimed had the best chorus of the century. Call Me Maybe is a kitschy, bubblegum confection capturing juvenile romantic giddiness by an artist nobody quite realized was 26. It was also a worldwide smash hit by an almost completely (outside of Canadian Idol) unknown artist - the song was the best-selling single worldwide in 2012, selling over 12 million copies in that year alone. Three years after her historic high she released Emotion, which at the time was welcomed to disappointing sales and a positive but not wildly enthusiastic critical response. The years since; however, have seen a new wave of support and appreciation for the album, and its release kicked off the modern wave of poptimism that we are experiencing.
Poptimism is essentially the belief that that pop, in all of its purposeful excess and expressive sincerity, has value - it’s important even. This train of thought has seemingly been a difficult pill to swallow for fans and writers in the indie scene, who fought for visibility for their favorite bands and artists with arguments of real musicianship and authenticity; their favs had guitars and an effortless sense of cool compared to the sentimental and surface level songs they would hear on the radio. Carly Rae Jepsen can be called a lot of things, she’s been called queen of every proper noun, but she cannot be called cool. Her entire artistry is built from a feeling of yearning, a desire for someone that digs down into the core of your being, banishing any sense of self-perseveration. It’s telling that the (unfairly maligned) lead single of Emotion, I Really Like You contains a chorus that reads:
“I really, really, really, really, really, really like you
And I want you, do you want me, do you want me too?
I really, really, really, really, really, really like you
And I want you, do you want me, do you want me too?
Oh, did I say too much?
I’m so in my head when we’re out of touch
I really, really, really, really, really, really like you
And I want you, do you want me, do you want me too?”
The single flopped, and reinforced the idea in people’s minds that Carly Rae Jepsen was an artist that made light, bubblegum pop, not something worthy of paying attention to. This was 2015, a time when pop was being redefined by artists like Lorde, Lana Del Rey and The Weeknd, what room was there for someone making cheesy 80’s synth music? It wasn’t until later, when rabid word of mouth from listeners who treated pop music with respect (read: gay people) forced a reappraisal, that people began to appreciate the real artistry that Carly was bringing to the table. And what an artistry it is.
Emotion is an incredible body of work. Carly, collaborating with some of the indie scene’s best producers (Dev Hynes, Ariel Rechtshaid, Rostam, etc…) made an album of gorgeously textured 80s synthpop that ushered the exhilarating charms of the past into a modern context. The songs are bulletproof: When I Needed You has a dynamite, stadium-ready hook, Warm Blood is sensual, synth perfection, and Run Away With Me is one of the rare songs to bottle pure euphoria into Mp3 format. The album, with its unabashed yearning and acute sense of rejection (Your Type is a song capable of ripping a heart out), is relatable and comforting in the way that an exceptional rom-com is, and just as rare. It’s a practically perfect album, one well-worthy of the acclaim it’s received.
Emotion may not have been a successful album, but it is an important one. It transformed Carly from starry-eyed pigtail-rocking popstar into a disco darling that recalled elements of True Blue era Madonna. The cult-status and fanatic adoration of the album led to her reinvention as an “Indie Darling” as well; she was the rare, perhaps the first even, modern pop-star to cross over to the indie-scene when traditionally the reverse happened. I remember going to the Avid Listeners of Boston College club meeting and being shocked when the cool kids on campus (an oxymoron) brought up Emotion unprompted, and had nothing but glowing things to say about it. Pop music, and the most unabashed, emotional kind at that, was something that could be appreciated without any guilt or preamble on the level of their Lower East Side Guitar Bands.
This era of good feeling that Emotion brought in extended to all spheres of pop music, and by the time the 2010’s were wrapping up we were in a much friendlier and welcoming environment towards it and the artists who made it. In its critics choice list, Pitchfork ranked Run Away With Me and Emotion among the 200 best songs and albums of the 2010’s (at 36 and 47 respectively) and the Pitchfork readers ranked the two in the top 10 and 20. That same spirit was extended towards artists like Charli XCX and Taylor Swift, who were either outright ignored or famously flamed by the publication just a few years previously. Pitchfork also just released a list containing their picks for the best albums and songs of the 1990’s, and the results were surprising. Their top 5 songs were all from female artists, and their choice for #1 was Fantasy (Remix)” [ft. Ol’ Dirty Bastard]. It’s impossible to imagine the Pitchfork of yesteryear that famously gave Liz Phair a 0 for making a true pop record proclaiming that Mariah Carey, the diva herself, had the best song of an entire decade. This new perception of pop is an almost shocking, and very welcome, change of pace.
Now, one cannot pin this entire movement on a single album, but the influence it has had is undeniable. Since it’s release we’ve seen an indie-pop renaissance, with artists like Kim Petras, MUNA, and Maggie Rogers, who said that Emotion fundamentally changed the kind of music she was making and helped her fall in love with pop music, putting their own spin on the genre. Major artists like Taylor Swift have chosen to work with indie producers like Aaron Dessner to incredible success and accolades, and fellow Canuck The Weeknd made a straight-up 80’s synth pop album. Preacher of pop’s virtues, Lorde, has often expressed her love for the album, and has covered Run Away With Me on numerous occasions, highlighting the raw, unabashed feeling that pours out of it, too much for the half-opened heart indeed.
I love pop music. I don’t know if I’ve made that clear in the preceding paragraphs but it bears repeating. I think there’s something magical about the way that artists can distill a universal experience into a verse-chorus-bridge-chorus structure, creating something we can find ourselves in and connect to others with. I’m also not a cool person. I find I’m too earnest for my own good and that I wear my emotions on my sleeve. It’s these reasons that make me adore Carly Rae Jepsen. It’s a comfort to get lost in her music, to hear someone sing about being too much, about aching for a real, real love. It’s even better to sing along with others, to know that you’re not alone in feeling that way. It’s this overwhelming feeling that’s allowed Emotion to not just stand the test of time, but get better with age. Carly’s guiding principle of emotional excess and immediacy is why people from all walks of life and music appreciation have rallied behind her, and why they try to get those in the “Call Me Maybe Girl” camp to do the same.
I’m thrilled that people are more interested in and respectful of pop music as a genuine art-form, not just something that’s written by an algorithm and used to fill radio time. Pop unites people like few things can; screaming along with thousands as a saxophone blares the intro of Run Away With Me was euphoric, not something I’ll soon forget. It’s a reminder to give into authenticity, lower your defenses, and cut to the damn feeling already.