Is pop music dead?

In a recent article for The Atlantic, musicologist Ted Gioia drops the bombshell that old songs now represent 70% of the US market and, incredibly, the new music market is shrinking. Not only did the rock dinosaurs survive the comet, they’re taking over and gumming down today’s young popstrels between their scant molars. 

You’d think a vintage music maven like me, with my eyes glued to the rose-tinted rear view would be exultant at this news. Surely I’m doing a sexy pirouette in front of my Bowie ’83 poster, breaking into a gleeful Brotherhood of Man formation dance and offering some ferrous virgin’s blood to my blacker-than-black Black Sabbath altar? Far from it. Getting locked into old music is a game of diminishing returns.

Yes, there’s an insane amount of back catalogues to go through. But that’s it. There will be no more. Listening only to past albums is bountifully rewarding, but can get a little airless. So, what’s gone wrong with pop? And can we blame it all on Bieber?

Until recently, I was probably the only Gen Xer I knew who still listened to Radio 1, but about a year ago I realised it was time to say goodbye. Daytime pop radio had become a massive turn-off, the charts were a chore – and this year’s Brit Awards? Couldn’t bear more than fifteen ad-break-clogged minutes.

Exciting things are happening, but true superstars are few and far between. Dua Lipa and The Weeknd regularly blast ’80s-influenced synth bangers from the glitter cannon. But aside from them? Oh Lord. We’re in a phase characterised by blokey boys blending Mumford & Sons folk with Ibiza-lite dance production. All sung with a pseudo-hoarse twang, like a young farmer’s stumbled onstage with David Guetta at a cheesy Euro megaclub.

Then there’s the girls with their “cutesy baby” vocals. True, it gave Britney a career, and was present in ’80s acts like Stacey Q and Thereza Bazar. But it seems like girl singers are stuck on the goo-goo with some Amy/Adele “jazz trumpet” flourishes.

I’m aware this sounds ever so boomer, and fully conscious that the pop scene “in my day” was equally ridiculous. We had Prince, Stevie Wonder and Madonna, but we also had parrot-haired poltroons like Howard Jones and Nik Kershaw. Yet what would Justin Bieber’s army of writers give to pen a classic like What is Love or Wouldn’t It Be Good? 

And the stars we do get now? Obviously, Ed Sheeran is a great songwriter and performer. You just have to watch his one-man Glastonbury 2017 headliner and sung/rapped showstopper You Need Me, I Don’t Need You. The only trouble with Ed is, well, he’s a hard one to idealise. He’s no Plant, Daltrey or Le Bon, nor does he exude any Jagger swagger. The same goes for young Scots singer Lewis Capaldi. Seems a lovely lad, but he looks like he’s just ridden his tractor to the BBC Studios, after dressing in Oxfam with a blazing hangover. These are two great acts, but they are not stars. So, where are today’s icons? Here’s some brilliant names that will dazzle us in 2022 and beyond:

Porridge Radio: Singer/guitarist Dana Margolin’s voice is all yearning, and 2020 single 7 Seconds is essentially the finale in a John Hughes movie where the girl walks into her Prom… and everyone GASPS. 

Girl in red: Marie Ulven Ringheim is a TikTok megastar, unafraid to discuss her sexuality and mental health, as in full-on single Serotonin: “I get intrusive thoughts like cutting my hands off, like jumping in front of a bus…” 

Mustafa: The Canadian poet and singer-songwriter’s track Stay Alive speaks of growing up on a tough Toronto housing project. A delicate acoustic guitar and Mustafa’s intimate vibrato draws you into his story of survival. 

Pearl Charles: ’70s-obsessed Pearl lives in a funky little shack in Jericho Tree outside LA, and her world sparkles with classic disco and peak-era Fleetwood Mac. New single Givin’ It Up is a slinky, shuffling BOP. 

The Anchoress: Welsh-born Aussie-raised Catherine Anne Davies has played with Simple Minds, sung with Manic Street Preachers and recorded with Bernard Butler. Her self-produced prog-pop album The Art of Losing has critics raving, and comparisons to Kate Bush and Tori Amos are well deserved. 

The Courettes: Imagine Phil Spector waving his gun around as a ’60s girl group makes a right garage racket. That’s The Courettes, and there’s only two of them. Their single R.I.N.G.O. has 2022’s best chorus: “R – Forget John Lennon – I – George, well he’s OK – N – Done with McCartney – G – I want Richard Starkey – Ohohohohoh”. 

Nation of Language: The Brooklyn electro three-piece may be more in love with the ’80s than me. Previous track This Fractured Mind could be from an early Depeche Mode album, while new single Stars and Sons is a bouncy OMD-inspired beauty.

Grove: Bristol-based non-binary vocalist and producer Grove sounds like their city. Blending dancehall, industrial and DnB, they will stomp you down and steal your girlfriend. 

Fear not, Ted. Pop music is alive and KICKING. 

Will Stubbs is a screenwriter and TV commercials writer. Music is his first love