Millennials Escaped the Last Recession by Dancing. Gen Z Escapes by Feeling.

What do Lady Gaga and Malcolm Todd have in common? On paper, not much — one is a pop icon, and the other an indie artist most people outside of bedroom-pop circles have never heard of. But both became the soundtrack to economic anxiety for their respective generations.

In 2008, as the financial world was actively collapsing, the cultural response was to turn the music up. Cue Kesha, Lady Gaga, the Black Eyed Peas, and a generational run of pop music you’ll never forget, all designed to help you forget. The sounds of the pop music listed before became known as “Recession pop”. As economic hardships unfold for a new generation, critics have already identified the Gen Z version in artists like Sabrina Carpenter, Charli xcx, and most recently, Drake. But Shelf trends reveal something much more nuanced.

Right underneath the mainstream layer of escapist pop is a months-long wave of soft-indie and bedroom pop sitting near the top of the charts. Malcolm Todd, whose debut album is packed with hushed vocals and guitar loops that sound like they were recorded in an actual bedroom, attracted more listeners on Shelf last week than almost anyone (outside of Drake and Sabrina Carpenter). Globally, we're facing nearly the same economic anxieties as 2008, but these artists — Clairo, beabadoobee, The Marías, PinkPantheress, Cigarettes After Sex — represent a completely different, nearly anti-dance pop response. The question worth asking is why?

The first part of the answer lies in the sound of the music. In our previous trend report, we learned that Gen Z is choosing media filled with yearning — and their bias for the personal extends to wanting proof that music is human made. In a world of AI-generated everything and algorithmic content optimized for scale, a slightly imperfect recording that sounds like it came from someone's apartment isn't just aesthetically pleasing; to some artists, it's a form of resistance.

Bedroom pop, by definition, sounds handmade: close-mic'd vocals that feel like the artist is right next to your ear, production that retains the warmth of its own imperfection, a sense of intimacy that hyper-polished major-label releases are literally incapable of replicating. There's growing research that listeners are increasingly opposed to AI-generated music. So naturally, the genre most antithetical to LLM-made sound would carry a particular gravitational pull right now. But while sonic texture explains part of why Gen Z is drawn to bedroom pop as a grounding mechanism, the more documented reason is simpler, if not sadder: loneliness.

We all know social media has made Gen Z more isolated, especially when you compare the data to millennials. Coupled with the rise of parasocial relationships, "one-sided relationships individuals form with characters from television and other media" (NIH), you get millions of people who don't socialize enough, leaning on music that closes the gap between technology and art, rather than widening it. Bedroom pop artists don't feel like recession pop stars, they feel like someone you know. I’m not sure how often I’ve thought while listening to Clairo, “we’d probably get along” — and I doubt I’m the only one.

It becomes less and less surprising that our generation — regardless of who's topping the charts that week — refuses to let go of the artists that actually make them feel something. I wouldn't either. It's comforting to know that in the face of so many artificial things, and the relentless consolidation of taste online, we're still holding onto the art that moves us — and maybe even inspires us to make something of our own.