by Laurel Dernbach // April 15, 2020
As we continue to isolate and lean into the uncertainty that is COVID-19, there is a lot of talk about coping mechanisms. I don’t know about you, but nothing takes the edge off like a throwback banger—it’s impossible to be quiet, impossible to be still. I am taking notes about romance during social distancing with Soulja Boy’s “Kiss Me Thru The Phone.” I am embracing every cringy, middle-school flashback as I dance shamelessly in my bedroom to Flo Rida and T-Pain’s “Low.” Whoever the baddie was in the baggy sweatpants and Reeboks with the straps was way ahead of her time.
I spent a larger part of my weekend deep-diving into the pop songs that defined the late 2000s and early 2010s. These songs have led me down two different trains of thought. First off, I cannot fathom being in my late teens/early 20s when these songs were at their peak. The mere thought of it being 2011 and “Party Rock Anthem” tearing through the speakers of fraternity parties across the nation—exhilarating. I refuse to accept that being a young adult in that era was anything less than a Kesha music video. Regardless of how untrue that notion is, I can’t help but feel sad for the ragey, care-free youth I feel I am missing out on right now.
Fantasies of past and present adolescence aside, the reality is that I was in middle school when these songs were their most iconic. For every fond memory I have of this time, I have about 10 embarrassing ones. But what a simpler time it was! Now that I have a sexual education beyond American Girl’s The Care and Keeping of You: The Body Book for Younger Girls, I can much better appreciate all the innuendo and wit of these songs. It’s also funny to think about how realistic these tropes once seemed, and how they’re actually just the same sometimes-effective-sometimes-not clout grabs that transcend all eras of music. Considering 3OH!3 and Kesha’s song “My First Kiss”—that’s not AT ALL how my first kiss went, but how could I have known that when I was ten, yelling the lyrics at the roller rink with my other ten-year-old friends? All it took was some living and learning to shed new light on an ENTIRE ERA of music.
I found these reflections to be a subtle lesson in perception—there is much to be learned from the present even if we can’t understand it now. The way we feel about this moment in time is not static. In times as frustrating as these, I find comfort in the reminder that time and clarity are often tightly correlated. It may be months, years, or even decades before I can rationalize why the universe (and effectively, my life) seems to be in such disarray right now. Until then, I’ll be bopping unabashedly to Black Eyes Peas and Gwen Stefani.
Here’s my playlist of late 2000s/early 2010s pop that fueled this article: