Opinion Review: Nostolgia in Pop Culture

Adem Jones || Issue 12 || February 4, 2025


I’ve been obsessed with Tate Mcrae’s new song, “Sports Car,” lately. There’s something about it that feels so familiar that it’s almost a little lackluster, yet just fresh enough for me to keep coming back. Then, I saw the perfect comparison and it all made sense. Tate Mcrae is trying to reheat Nelly Furtado and Timbaland’s nachos.
The problem is that she’s missing the cheese, but it’s 3 am, and you’re a little drunk, so you eat them anyway, and in that moment, in that context, they’re the best nachos you’ve ever had.
Nostalgia, as we experience it today, is like reheated nachos, oftentimes I’m perfect, but still a satisfying relic of the past. A flawed recreation that feels just right because of the context. It’s messy, it’s missing something, but strangely, it’s exactly what we need. It’s this longing for a time we didn’t fully live through or experience that
has become a driving force in pop culture. It’s not about perfection, it’s about the comfort of familiarity, even when it doesn’t quite hit the mark. This desire to revisit and repackage
the past is evident in today’s music, fashion, and media. Sampling in pop music has become one of the clearest manifestations of this trend. Artists like Dua Lipa and The Weeknd have embraced the sounds of the ‘80s, reviving synth
heavy melodies and larger-than-life production. Songs like Dua Lipa’s “Physical” or The Weekend’s “Blinding Lights” don’t just evoke memories of a past era, they reinvigorate them. These tracks don’t just sample old music, they create a bridge between generations, giving listeners access to a soundscape they may not have experienced firsthand but can still resonate
with. It’s the musical equivalent of a retrofit, borrowing familiar elements to craft something that may be new but will always be a bit reminiscent. But not all nostalgic moments hit the mark as seamlessly. The TikTok discourse around Mcrae’s attempt at recreating Furtado and Timberland’s early 2000s magic is a perfect example of the tension between the old and the new. Reheating the past may bring comfort, but it often lacks the raw, unrefined energy that made the originals stand out. It’s like trying to capture lightning in a bottle, sometimes, the magic just doesn’t translate. The unfortunate reality is that while nostalgia can be a powerful tool for connecting with an audience, it can
also stifle creativity when it’s not used
thoughtfully. This brings us to Hollywood’s obsession with sequels, reboots, and remakes. Everywhere you look, there seems to be a fixation on revisiting the past. Classic films and TV shows, from “Ghostbusters” to “Full House,” are being recycled for new audiences, with mixed results. On one hand, these reboots are a chance to revisit beloved characters and stories, offering a comfort we can cling to in an ever-changing world. But, on the other hand, it raises the question: Where are the bold, groundbreaking stories that once defined cinema? Are we so consumed by nostalgia that we’ve forgotten how to innovate? In a world where streaming platforms often prioritize remakes over original works, it’s hard not to wonder whether we are just chasing echoes of the past rather than creating something truly fresh.

This obsession with nostalgia has even seeped into fashion, where the Y2K aesthetic has seen a resurgence. Gen-Z, the current youth generation, is embracing the early 2000s despite not having fully lived through it. Many Gen-Zers, myself included, were mere toddlers or not even born
during this era. Yet, here we are, sporting cargo pants, chunky sneakers, and butterfly clips like they’re an original part of our style DNA. It’s a fascinating paradox: the generation expected to push culture forward is instead looking back to find their identity. In this context, TikTok plays a pivotal role, not just as a trend-setting platform but as a time capsule. The viral nature of TikTok makes it a space where the past and present collide. A song from the ‘80s or a trend from the 2000s can explode into the mainstream, not because of any inherent artistic value, but because it resonates emotionally with a generation in search of identity and connection. What does this all mean for culture? Why does nostalgia have such a hold on us? Psychologically, nostalgia serves as a coping mechanism, a way of dealing with uncertainty and distress. Research suggests that nostalgia can boost self-esteem, inspire confidence, and connect us to others in meaningful ways. In an era defined by technological change, economic instability, and social uncertainty, the past becomes a comforting anchor. But it’s also more than just a psychological crutch, it can be powerful
tool for reconnecting with deep emotional truths.
The challenge, however, is not to
fall into the trap of just “reheating nachos.” When done right, nostalgia can enrich culture by creating connections across generations, but when overused, it runs the risk of turning into a
form of escapism, a retreat from the challenges of the present. So, where does this leave us? Are we trapped in a cycle of recreating the past, or can nostalgia be a steppingstone to something new? To me, it’s both. Nostalgia serves as a bridge that links generations through cultural standards. But if we’re not careful, we might end up so absorbed in what has been that we forget to create the future. In the end, nostalgia is a powerful tool, one that can either stifle creativity or fuel it, depending on how we use it. The challenge is to balance honoring the past with building a future that is just as rich, bold, and meaningful. Much like those reheated nachos at
3 a.m., nostalgia may not capture the original magic, but in the right moment, it’s the imperfect comfort we crave. Sometimes, the best things are the ones we revisit, even when they’re a little worn around the edges.