The introduction of short form media has changed the way in which we consume and respond to music; it has firmly rooted itself at the heart of what an album rollout looks like, influencing the decisions made by creatives and consumers. Attempts to secure streams, through the multitudinous opportunities offered by social media sites, means that artists can reach an audience in a way that has only recently been the defining and most pivotal method of doing so. Even when there are not deliberate attempts to do this, such as Charli’s brat which was designed to be a return to her hyper-pop roots and dedication to her fans, this way of marketing content, using short-form media as a catalyst for success, is undeniable and inescapable. It pervades the complex web of music creation and consumption. Charli became the new zeitgeist – brat summer taking on a life of its own, in a way that only few artists can hope to achieve. Endorsing Kamala Harris with the phrase ‘so brat’ is perhaps the most obvious example of the boundaries pushed by this viral movement, this culture. 

This way of captivating audiences, ensnaring clicks and streams, extends to the accelerating rise of deluxe albums. There is an insatiable hunger, a greed, for more. And artists are more than happy to oblige. 

Are deluxe albums a cash-grab or a faithful extension of the creative vision? Do they embellish or fracture? 

In some capacity, deluxe albums have always been part of the contemporary musical scene – they’ve just existed under different guises. In 1969, Led Zeppelin released a ‘deluxe’ version of their self-titled album, which contained remastered versions of the original tracks. Similarly, in 1970, The Beatles released Hey Jude (The Beatles Again), which added previously unheard bonus tracks. However, it wasn’t until the 2000s when the deluxe album became a typical element of project rollouts. Often, they provide the opportunity for artists to include songs that were perhaps unfinished – or even to advance the narrative of the original body of work. Deluxe titles have become more creative and become isolated, and reviewed, in their own right. Olivia Rodrigo’s GUTS (spilled) and Sabrina Carpenter’s Emails I Can’t Send (fwd) are key examples of this. They’re fun, clever and ask for attention – enticing listeners with their promise of more. Taylor Swift’s last two albums have taken the meaning of ‘deluxe’ past its point of recognition. After releasing Midnights, she swiftly (no pun intended) announced the impending drop of the 3am Edition and ‘Til Dawn Edition – not just the typical few songs more, but a staggering 10. Her recent album The Tortured Poets Department did not just level this, but exceeded this beyond expectation; releasing an extra 15 songs just a few hours later. Whilst gratifying for fans, it nonetheless raises questions about the role and identity of the original album, and what this means for music as a whole. Does there always have to be a deluxe edition? 

Don’t get me wrong, bonus tracks can be great! In fact, there are many instances where the original listening experience is honoured and enhanced further, and as a Taylor Swift fan myself I loved the opportunity to hear more songs from a highly-anticipated project. You could argue that deluxe albums even allow artists to express themselves beyond the limitations of the album unit. However, the expectation and the commercial appeal of selling deluxe albums for artists cannot be ignored. Sabrina Carpenter’s Short ‘n’ Sweet this summer can serve as an example of this. Only a few hours after its release were people speculating about the existence of a deluxe version, despite it having 12 tracks. The deluxe version is sure to come, but this immediate demand is symptomatic of the altered space music inhabits.

Overall, musical trends are constantly shifting. Artists release and market their projects in a myriad of different ways, but the ever-constant presence of social media and its role in the industry cannot be ignored. This extends past thinking about ‘hit singles’ and trends to the very fabric of what an album is right now; commercial and creative pursuits colliding.