What The Year Of ‘I’m The Problem, It’s Me’ Taught Us About The Future Of Pop

Ironically, this year in pop was defined by a pair of 2022 blockbusters: Taylor Swift’s Midnights and SZA’s SOS. Although the two Billboard 200-topping albums are starkly different in sound and tone, there is a lyrical through line of unflinching self-examination and sarcastic self-deprecation that courses through each. “Anti-Hero,” the lead single from Midnights that ruled the Billboard Hot 100, became one of Swift’s biggest chart hits thanks, in part, to its cheeky refrain: “It’s me, hi/I’m the problem, it’s me.” Likewise, SZA dominated the Hot 100 with her Grammy-nominated “Kill Bill,” in which she sings, “I’m so mature, I’m so mature/I’m so mature, I got me a therapist to tell me there’s other men.”

Olivia Rodrigo, a pop powerhouse who this year scored a Hot 100 No. 1 with “Vampire” and another top 10 with “Bad Idea, Right?,” built the entirety of her Grammy-nominated GUTS album around this concept. In “ballad of a homeschooled girl,” she croons, “Everything I do is tragic/Every guy I like is gay/The morning after, I panic/Oh, God, what did I say?!” Delivered with a tone that carefully swells from apathy to mania, Rodrigo’s lyrics are biting — but she’s the subject of her own takedown. Through revealing the social and romantic cues that still confuse her in spite of her superstar status, Rodrigo goes from inaccessible celebrity brand to virtual friend and confidante in just a few bars.

This sort of tongue-in-cheek accountability — which struck a particularly resonant chord in the context of the evolution of Swift’s public persona and perception ­— harks back to a pivotal album released a decade earlier. Lorde’s 2013 debut, Pure Heroine, was defined by its pointed pop songwriting, with couplets that bemoan the singer’s own shortcomings just as much as they deride and analyze the world around her. Ten years later, pop music in 2023 has proved that not only is this style of songwriting here to stay, but it has also become increasingly reflective of diversity and representation in popular media.

SZA’s brand of self-deprecation speaks more directly to Black women. When she sings, “I used to be special/But you made me hate me/Regret that I changed me/I hate that you made me/Just like you,” in “Special,” she’s speaking from a place that’s uncomfortable, embarrassing and valid — especially to Black women who must fight various compounding forms of misogynoir in their quest for love. She’s making emotional space that holds just as much weight as more positive anthems like Beyoncé’s “Brown Skin Girl.”

For as many pseudo-protest songs as summer 2020 produced, that period also intensified the already-brewing ramifications of a pandemic on the human psyche. “I think between people being on lockdown and dealing with all the hardships of the last few years, [they] have had much more time to turn inward and sometimes face their own demons,” says “Special” co-writer Rob Bisel. “I think having music that’s self-deprecating helps make that process of turning inward much less difficult and makes people feel less alone during these turbulent times.”

Bisel also worked on Reneé Rapp’s standout debut, Snow Angel, which features several sarcasm-drenched pop tunes including “I Hate Boston” and “Poison Poison.” The former is a cheeky rebuttal of Beantown due to a no-good ex, while the latter is a fiery rumination on a friendship with a woman that went up in flames. As an out bisexual woman in pop, Rapp writes lyrics that capture the minds and attitudes of an audience rarely targeted — but often objectified — by top 40 radio. Troye Sivan’s Hot 100 hit “One of Your Girls” — which details the minefield that is being a gay man messing with romantic interests who have not previously been with other men — functions in a similar way for gay men. Even Barbie (by way of Ryan Gosling’s worldview-shattering viral hit, “I’m Just Ken”) and Paramore (with the sassy “Running Out of Time”) employed this trend of sardonic, intimately self-aware songwriting this year.

According to Alexander 23, who co-wrote “Poison Poison,” this style of songwriting is “here to stay because we just see too much of people now via social media to believe something too positive.” He adds, “I think people are hearing things that feel more conversational, more like the artist is someone [who] they actually know and [is] their friend.” Of course, this hasn’t completely pushed aside flashy, confidence-boosting pop jams — take Tate McRae’s “Greedy” and aliyahsinterlude’s “IT GIRL,” for example — but there’s no mistaking its dominance.

Both Bisel (Beck, Green Day) and Alexander (LCD Soundsystem) point to past generations of pop artists as evidence of this songwriting style’s legacy. “One of the most powerful things you can do as a songwriter is to share the feelings that everyone experiences but are too afraid to say out loud,” Bisel says. “A self-deprecating song in some ways is a vehicle for listeners to share their own burdens and to feel seen.”

With self-critical records from Lana Del Rey (“A&W”) and boygenius (“Not Strong Enough”) scoring key Grammy nods and tongue-in-cheek tracks from Swift and SZA dominating commercially, pop is staunchly in its sarcastic era. “I’m a big believer that trends in music are cyclical and constantly come back around,” Bisel says. “At the same time, honest music will never go out of style.”

This story originally appeared in the Dec. 9, 2023, issue of Billboard.