Mirror Mirror On The Wall

One of the reasons BuzzFeed has been extremely successful over the past decade comes down to focusing on the utility of content, particularly in how sharing a list, quiz, news article, essay, or video can express someone’s identity or start a conversation with friends and family. This was the basis of editorial philosophy before I started working there in 2012, and more recently was codified into something that was referred to internally as “cultural cartography.” The cultural cartography system existed both to catalog the utilities of pieces of content as well as encourage creators to fully consider what the potential use of their work could be before they even started making anything.

This is the essence of viral content – the work that succeeds on the grandest scale does so because it has clear objective utility. If you’re chasing this, you learn to make yourself useful. In social media, people are always looking for ways to talk about themselves or thorny personal issues in a way that softens it slightly through humor and allows a bit of distance in that the person sharing is understood not to be the author. Quizzes in particular thrive on giving readers results that allow them to share a boast with a shield of irony and plausible deniability – oh, it’s just a silly quiz!

Once you start seeing this pattern in people’s behavior it’s hard not to notice it in everything that becomes popular. It’s the key to really connecting with an audience, and when this is done organically, it’s fabulous. But it’s also something that can result in outrageously crass content, and somehow becomes more cringeworthy when it’s done with very good intentions. There’s not much room for ambiguity or abstraction in this – the work that will resonate most deeply is an emphatic statement of self and everything runs on a generalized sort of specificity intended to create relatable moments. Everything is crafted to invite you to go “it me!” and then share it with other people as either “I am ____” or “we are ____.”

Pop songs have worked in this mode forever, and the music with real staying power is typically the stuff with the most utility. The songs that end up being most heavily licensed to television, film, and advertisements are nearly always the ones that either offer a lyrical declaration that overtly states something in the narrative or has a mood that signals particular contextual connotations. Music is a tool in these things, it’s all a shorthand that uses the strengths of one art form to in many cases compensate for the flaws of another.

This bleeds into how people make playlists in the era of iPods and streaming. People will make playlists for specific moods, for specific settings, for specific sentiments, or seek out pre-existing playlists with these utilities on Spotify and Apple Music. Utility is a large part of how anyone engages with music, and the emergence of platforms with observable data and potential for virality – as well as a commercial dependence on the money that comes from licensing – has pushed many people in the music industry to approach creating songs with the same “cultural cartography” goals as anyone making content for BuzzFeed.

So, Lizzo. Lizzo is a perfect example of an artist who is thriving on creating content about identity that is highly relatable and has a clear objective utility in playlists and licensing. The odds are very good that your first exposure to Lizzo’s music was in a television show or movie, or failing that, a video or song that came your way when someone shared it to your feed. Maybe it was served to you algorithmically on YouTube or in an automated “discovery” playlist. Lizzo’s music is perfectly engineered for all of this, to the point that it can seem like it’s already gone through extensive A/B testing and optimization. It’s glossy and immediately accessible, but signals some degree of authenticity and soulfulness. It’s aggressively sincere and every song is clearly about a particular statement or relatable situation. It’s all geared towards feelings of empowerment, and given how many ads, shows, and movies want to sell that feeling, her songs are extremely effective and valuable, especially since up until recently she was not famous and thus not weighed down in the cultural baggage of celebrity. (If you used a Beyoncé or Rihanna song instead, your “girl boss” moment would in some way become about Beyoncé or Rihanna rather than your characters.)

I can’t hear Lizzo’s music without recognizing her cultural cartography savvy. A lot of music can achieve these goals without contrivance, often just as a natural side effect of an artist intuitively making resonant work, but Lizzo’s songs all sound very calculated to me. This is not such a bad thing – her skill in expressing herself in relatable ways is a major talent, and I’ve worked with many people who have this natural skill and hold them in very high regard. (I’m much better at telling people who they are rather than asking you to identify with who I am.) Lizzo has a good voice, and her songs range from “pretty good” to “undeniable banger” but I have mixed feelings about all of it because I know the game being played rather well, and because I’m uncomfortable with this self-consciously audience-pleasing approach to content creation becoming the primary mode of pop culture. I appreciate the value of empowering art – and as someone who has spent his entire adult life as a fat man, I am particularly sympathetic to Lizzo’s fat-positivity – but fear mainstream culture further devolving into nothing but shallow exclamations of self-affirmation. We’re more than halfway there already, especially when you factor in YouTube.

This music makes me want to rebel against it. I never ask that any music be “for me” – I prefer art to offer a window into other lives and ways of thinking – but Lizzo’s songs are often so transparent in their intended use as a way for square, insecure people to feel empowered and cool that I can’t help but hear it and think “but I don’t actually want or need this!” She reminds me a lot of Macklemore, whose big hits “Same Love” and “Thrift Shop” had a similar quasi-cool accessibility and cultural cartography value at the time. In both cases, making fun of them feels cheap and churlish, or like a sideways attack on fat women, LGBT rights, or uh, value shopping. But for me, it’s really just developing an allergy. I hear too much of music like this, or see too many shows and movies that are obviously designed with cultural cartography in mind, and I just run screaming back towards artsy ambiguity.