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Nottingham | Culture

How TikTok Writes Music: a Sombr case study

Aimee Goldblum Student Contributor, University of Nottingham
This article is written by a student writer from the Her Campus at Nottingham chapter and does not reflect the views of Her Campus.

Across the 2020s, music has been dominated by the ā€˜TikTok song’. While being defined neither
by a specific genre, style of music, or even time of release, every person will have some sort of
idea what I’m talking about. Even though I reject the idea that the discography of Radiohead,
which long outdates the app, or Prince’s ā€˜Purple Rain’ are ā€˜TikTok songs’, I can’t deny that TikTok
has huge power in dictating success in the modern music industry. One has to wonder how,
even for veteran artists, the app has contributed to things like touring schedules and setlists.
At the heart of the TikTok music phenomenon is 20-year-old Shane Boose, aka sombr. He’s
been releasing music since he was a young teen, but saw mainstream success in 2024 with his
song ā€˜Back to Friends’, which he followed up with major hit ā€˜Undressed’ a few months later. After
these smashes, he was nominated for Best New Artist at the Grammys, performing his music in
a sparkly jumpsuit to rival Harry Styles’ most flamboyant looks.


Sombr isn’t without his detractors, getting entangled in discussion around concert etiquette and
industry plants. The newest discourse: the way he writes his music. In an interview for Mix with
the Masters that has wracked up over 200k views, co-producer Tony Berg explains the way
sombr crafts his music, a method unique to the TikTok era. Boose writes a verse and a chorus,
he says, and posts a snippet of the unfinished song on TikTok. If the snippet goes viral, he’ll
contact Berg to produce the song, writing the rest of it in mere days before its rapid release. It’s
a strong formula; Boose currently has 3 songs in the Billboard Hot 100. His newest single,
ā€˜Homewrecker’, sits at number 31 – not reaching the heights of previous hits, but a solid effort
from the singer.


For many, sombr’s popularity, combined with his songwriting method, signals the death of
authenticity in music. It’s bad enough to garner success through TikTok virality, but entirely
basing whether you finish a song or not on how many views a small snippet receives is a whole
other beast.


So how bad is this really? Music as a career is fickle and unpredictable. It’s not necessarily a
bad thing for an artist to pre-empt, and try to manipulate, successes. By relying on a job that
doesn’t guarantee stability – especially in our current culture of fast-moving trends and attitude
of disposability around the arts – it’s in sombr’s best financial interest to secure some idea of
profit before he spends his time and money on a project that may fail. Singer Halsey has gone
on record multiple times to discuss the way labels give or take resources based on previous
financial success. Even with her past popularity, the ā€˜flop’ of her last record, The Great
Impersonator, means her label aren’t willing to fund further projects. So, for sombr, it’s smart
business.

Increasingly, we’re seeing a streamlining of corporate practices and art. It’s always been there,
of course. Mainstream music has always existed to make money, as well as a form of emotional
and creative expression. It’s why the idea of ā€˜selling out’ exists; subcultures have long ousted
those who prioritise major label money over their roots. On TikTok, though, the curtain has
opened. Boose’s management run multiple fan accounts for him, increasing engagement with
the sombr brand. What was once a way for young teenagers to interact, make friends, and
share love for an artist has been co-opted by a label to generate sales. It’s disheartening.

As well as a general move away from authenticity towards capital gain, this way of producing
music also spells interesting things for quality. How can a song be the best version it can if it’s
being written and produced to chase virality? Berg notes that the time between sombr teasing a
song on TikTok and its release can often be only a day or two. Post-covid, album release
periods for artists are getting shorter and shorter, the typical two-year cycle dead in the water.
Sabrina Carpenter followed up her 2024 smash success Short n Sweet with Man’s Best Friend
only a year later, and Taylor Swift released 2025’s The Life of a Showgirl around 18 months after

The Tortured Poets Department. A two-day gap between the conception of a song and its
release does not allow for any refinement or extended artistic process, something which is
sorely lacking in new releases. Many modern projects feel rushed, with bloat filling out record
runtimes – and that’s because they are.


While sombr’s ā€˜Homewrecker’ is a good track, his streak can’t last forever. Eventually, it’s likely
we’ll see a drop-off in quality, and subsequently popularity. There’s already a distinct style to his
last four tracks that, while catchy, may become stale after release after release without time for
reflection or development.


TikTok music doesn’t foreshadow the end of the industry – we’re seeing music careers become
more accessible than ever – but it is changing it. Whereas before, the divide between corporate
and creative was something concrete, the personal nature of social media means this wall has
become transparent. Maybe we’re becoming more attuned to marketing tactics because of
overconsumption, or maybe business is becoming bolder. Either way, audiences are
disillusioned, and companies keep wanting more. Who knows what we’ll be looking at when we
look at the charts in 10 years.

Aimee Goldblum

Nottingham '26

Aimee is a third year English student at the University of Nottingham. She is primarily interested in music, film, and all things pop culture, and can over-analyse absolutely anything. In her free time, she enjoys going to gigs, reading horror novels, and getting far too invested in online discourse.