Do We Actually Know Our Favorite Artists or Do They Just Market Themselves Really Well?

There’s this funny thing that happens when you follow an artist in 2024.

You might first hear their music on TikTok, then suddenly you know their dog’s name, their favorite cereal, their mental breakdowns, their skincare routine, and which city they “lowkey hate but love the fans tho.” At some point you catch yourself talking about them like they’re your friend, even though they’ve never heard of you, and realistically, never will.

And honestly? I don’t even think it’s weird.
This is just how being a music fan works now.

But from a marketing perspective, and as someone who studies this stuff, it’s one of the most fascinating shifts in the entire music industry.

So let’s talk about it.

The 2020s: When Music Wasn’t Enough Anymore

Artists used to exist behind glass.
We knew them through albums and interviews, maybe a tour documentary if they were big enough. Everything was controlled, polished, distant.

Now? They post TikToks in their kitchen at 2AM telling us about their insomnia or a random intrusive thought. They go live while doing laundry. They vlog studio sessions where nothing even happens.

And because the barrier is so low, the connection feels high.

From a marketing angle, this is genius.
People don’t just stream what sounds good anymore. They stream who feels close, relatable, chaotic, aesthetically pleasing, or emotionally familiar. We don’t choose songs; we choose personalities.

That’s why someone can release a 12-second snippet on TikTok and have a hit before the song even exists. Fans already “trust” them.

Oversharing Is the New Branding

Oversharing didn’t just become normal, it became strategy.

Artists now build their entire brand around showing exactly the amount of vulnerability that makes fans feel safe around them but still curious enough to keep watching. It’s a careful balance:

• Authentic, but not too messy

• Open, but still curated

• Relatable, but still aspirational

And the wildest part? Most people aren’t aware of how calculated this is.

A simple post like “sorry guys I disappeared, I’ve been struggling mentally lately” instantly boosts engagement. Because vulnerability creates connection, and connection creates loyalty, and loyalty creates streams.

Even a selfie captioned “rough day” works as soft marketing.

It feels intimate.
It feels like friendship.
But it’s actually excellent audience segmentation.

TikTok Turned Fans Into Friends (Who Happen to Buy Stuff)

TikTok is basically the engine behind modern parasocial relationships.
The platform rewards:

• face-to-camera talking

• emotional honesty

• weird little rants

• mini confessionals

• chaotic storytelling

…all things that make us feel like we’re on FaceTime with the artist.

The algorithm pushes content that feels personal, so the more an artist acts like a friend, the more they get pushed. And the more they get pushed, the more we invest in them emotionally.

From a marketing perspective, this is gold because emotional engagement → behavioral engagement. That means:

• you stay for the next video

• you check out the song

• you follow them

• you stream their music

• you buy the tour ticket

• you repost the tour outfit

• you defend them online

All because you feel like you know them.

Fan Culture Became Therapy (and Trauma Bonding)

Something else shifted in the 2020s:
Music fandom stopped being about idolizing and started being about relating.

People don’t want perfect icons anymore, they want artists who cry on camera, talk about anxiety, hate their ex, doubt their career, spiral at 1AM, or post unfiltered photos. It feels safe. It feels familiar.

A lot of Gen Z basically grew up without stable institutions:
pandemic chaos, political mess, mental health struggles, unstable job markets, climate anxiety. So we built emotional stability through online micro-communities and artists became part of that emotional ecosystem.

We don’t just listen to their music.
We grow with them.
We cope with them.
We project onto them.

It’s not just fandom, it’s like emotional cohabitation.

But Is This Healthy? Or Smart Marketing?

Here’s where it gets tricky.

Parasocial relationships aren’t inherently bad. They can be comforting, inspiring, or feel like genuine connection. But there’s a line and the industry walks it very carefully.

Artists share enough to feel close but never enough to lose control.
And fans give enough emotional energy to feel connected but never enough to realize they’re essentially participating in a very advanced loyalty program.

I don’t mean that negatively, I think it’s fascinating.
But it’s something we should actually be aware of.

Because if every moment is content, then every moment is strategy.

When artists cry on camera, we comfort them.
When they flirt through the screen, we swoon.
When they talk about their trauma, we share ours.
When they ask for hype for a new single, we deliver.

And half the time, we don’t even see the marketing machine behind it because the “friendship illusion” feels too real.

So… Why Do We Still Fall for It?

Because honestly, it works.
Human brains are wired for connection, even digital ones.

And maybe that’s okay.

We know these relationships aren’t real in the traditional sense, but they feel real enough to give us comfort, meaning, or just something to look forward to on a boring Wednesday.

And if music becomes the soundtrack to a digital friendship, maybe that’s just part of being a 2020s human.

Written by: Christina Kyriakidou