Can Everybody Just Enjoy the Music? On Chappell Roan’s “The Subway”

A little over a year ago, Chappell Roan took the world by storm with her Governor’s Ball Music Festival debut. Dressed as Lady Liberty, a green-painted Chappell became the symbol of summer—skyrocketing to fame so fast that even she struggled to keep up.

While Roan has had her fair share of controversies—need I mention the 2024 election or the fan callouts?—I still consider myself a fan. This brings us to The Subway, a track she first performed live at Governor’s Ball, but only released last Friday. 

The Subway, a sapphic tale about the end of a relationship and running into your ex on the subway, is a far cry from the bright pop songs that glamorize New York. Sonically, it’s an homage to the Cranberries—a refreshing departure from the Christian worship music (sorry, Alex Warren) dominating the charts. 

Throughout the past year, fans clamored for a finalized studio version of the track. In its absence, demos spread across the internet, and the unreleased versions circulated on TikTok and via MP3s on Twitter (I’m not calling it X). Now, some fans seem to take issue with the fact that the studio track is slightly different from its earlier versions, saying The Subway has lost its “rawness” or “emotion.” 

I’d beg to differ, but it’s interesting that while promoting the new song, Roan touched upon this on Bowen Yang’s podcast, Las Culturistas. “You fall in love with what you hear first,” she explains. “Because you have demo-itis.” Even if the final studio track is better, it’s that initial recording that builds the emotional bridge. We, as consumers, love familiarity. This is totally understandable—but also a bit exhausting. 

It’s a lose-lose battle as a fan to take an issue with your artist altering a song from a demo into a studio version. Unless the track is butchered—in this case, it’s not—some of the criticism feels unwarranted. The misconception is fans assuming they’re entitled to shape the kind of art their favorite musician creates, even though the creative direction is entirely in the hands of the artist. 

The Subway, in its final form, still contains the same raw power found in the demo, and builds to a close equally as powerful as Chappell Roan’s live performances. If you’re still clinging to the demo in spite of this, then listen to the demo. But let’s acknowledge that the final song is the best version. 

I take the discourse surrounding The Subway as a greater representation of how demanding fan culture has become. No track is good enough. No artist is great enough. Everything must be consumed at a rapid-fire pace or it’s dismissed. Yes, it took Chappell a year to release this song, but great art takes time. In the meantime, maybe stop dissecting every millisecond of a track’s synth or background vocals, and just enjoy the music.

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