Since 2018, TikTok has been dominating the social media space after its rebranding from the former lip-syncing app, Musical.ly. TikTok has now transformed into a one-stop shop for all kinds of content depending on the user, as its algorithm allows for personalized content, including but not limited to beauty reviews, travel videos, artsy video content and, of course, a boatload of Pedro Pascal edits. Despite the rebrand, music is still a core component of the app, with nearly every video having an attached “sound” that usually involves some kind of musical arrangement. As the app has continued to develop and thrive with trend after trend, an emerging phenomenon is occurring: every song that blows up ends up being sped-up edit of the original.
Take Phoebe Bridgers for example. Her songs are filled to the brim with emotions and inner turmoil, and yet, my latest favorite video on the platform involves someone dancing to a sped-up version of “I Know The End,” a song that is literally about the apocalypse. Instead of getting emotional to the angsty song, I’m bopping my head and smiling to a tune about the end of the world. Why is this the case?
High-pitched music is not a new phenomenon. Coined by Questlove in the early 2000s, “Chipmunk Soul” described the cartoonish sounds that started to emerge in Wu-Tang and house music, often used sparingly and interwoven in the background of tracks. But why do we respond so positively to this funny style of music? When considering people’s reaction to falsetto, Insider considered that high-pitched sounds can be indirectly associated with other sounds we hear in our lives. For example, when people cry, their voices raise in pitch, possibly making it so that people around pay attention. Regardless, high pitches in the human voice are attention grabbers, making them perfect on platforms like TikTok that are created to hold your attention.
More influential in my opinion is the speeding up of music on TikTok. This trend has even carried over to influence artists that blow up on the platform. Musicians such as SZA or Steve Lacy had remixes of their popular songs blow up and have since monetized them by releasing their own official “sped-up” versions on streaming platforms. By speeding up songs, we lose a lot of their meaning and depth. Given the creative and visual nature of the app, it really makes sense that users would want to take advantage of already catchy songs by making them less profound. It makes people focus less on the music’s message and more on its instrumentals, meaning more focus goes toward the visual medium.
What once may have been used as a method of getting around copyright restrictions has since found its way to notoriety. I remember Youtubers using this method in their videos to get around auto-detection on the platform, and it seems as though this has trickled over to TikTok. However, TikTok has revealed the flaws of copyrighting music: it limits exposure. The app has been able to blow up songs out of seemingly nowhere, taking random, possibly forgotten tracks and pairing them with trends to bring them back to fame. The “sped-up and pitched” method shows a successful marketing tactic in getting around auto-detection while exposing people to new music.
“Them Changes” by Thundercat will always be associated with a cartoon character walking down a street on beat. “Dreams” by Fleetwood Mac reminds me of riding a skateboard down a street while sipping on cranberry juice. And now, I can appreciate “I Know The End” by Phoebe Bridgers as a song I guess I can drop it low to? Regardless, music and media have always been interconnected, and TikTok trends continue to prove that to be true, sped-up or not.