As the words “Olivia Dean” left Chappell Roan’s mouth, Punxsutawney Phil practically slammed his tiny rodent fist on the ground and vowed to curse us all with six more weeks of winter. Somewhere between the snub and the shadow, Addison Rae’s “Addison”—arguably one of the most important “pop bibles” of the past year—was left out in the cold. With tracks like “Fame as a Gun,” “Headphones On” and “Diet Pepsi” going viral, and a tour that left many audience members feeling as though they were witnessing “In the Zone”-era Britney Spears, one question lingered at the Grammys: What went wrong? In a year where pop desperately clung to nostalgia, was Addison not the rare artist who understood it without being consumed? And if Addison did not win Best New Artist, maybe it was proof that the industry is always six weeks behind the weather.
Back in 2019, Addison was among the first to gain TikTok fame for dancing strictly with her arms, before the pandemic made everyone follow suit. Her viral moments were confined to a very specific archetype: the ditzy Hype House girl. The Hype House was less a collective than a content system: a rented mansion, inhabited by TikTokers, designed to manufacture viral personalities through repetition and trend participation. Being instantly recognizable mattered more than being distinctive; personality was flattened into an archetype. Riding off her Hype House fame, in 2021, Addison released “Obsessed,” complete with a music video that prompted many well-meaning spectators to offer her similar advice: Dance with your arms, and arms only.
As she began styling herself in the likeness of dancer Lexee Smith—now a close friend—and drawing inspiration from the holy trinity of pop womanhood—Britney, Madonna and Gaga—a star was born. Or, perhaps she was going through puberty. For listeners who were musically attuned to the lineage of Britney breakdowns, Madonna reinventions and Gaga demos that thrived in spaces outside of the radio, Addison’s early leaks and EP felt instantly like cult, or club, classics. Her 2023 EP, “AR,” featured “Nothing On (But the Radio)”—an unreleased Lady Gaga demo—and “2 die 4” with Charli xcx, signaling a more refined taste that transcended the likes of her TikTok peers. And no one can forget the first time they encountered the “Von Dutch” remix snippet featuring Addison’s scream slicing through the track like a slasher-film jump scare. More horror movies with Addison as the lead, please.
And then last summer, June 6, came “Addison,” the album. Not much needs to be said about a project this assured. Pop excellence, trip-hop, if you will. It was no surprise when Addison was nominated for Best New Artist and what fans worried about was not the nomination, but the win itself. Ultimately, winning would require the industry to admit what it so often resists: that seriousness and camp can coexist and a girl who came from TikTok still understands Portishead.
Addison arrived on the red carpet in white, classically Monroe, playful like herself and camp in a Björkian way that felt intentional rather than ironic. Wearing custom Alaïa, her neckline plunged down her torso, adorned or perhaps unadorned. The skirt was all classic Grammys in the front, forming an inverted triangle that reached the floor, yet standard Addison in the back, transforming into a mini in essence. It evoked Björk’s swan dress or Marilyn’s moment in “Gentlemen Prefer Blondes,” yet still landed as something distinctly Addison. As she said in a Red Carpet Interview, the Alaïa dress “is just absolutely gorgeous…so I’m really lucky to be wearing it. I feel like the luckiest girl in the world.” Playful. Camp. Fun. And yes, iconic.
And yet.
Pop culture has never quite known what to do with pop stars who arrive unserious and one day decide, audaciously, to become serious artists. Madonna was the center of satanic panic before she was an icon; Britney was dismissed as manufactured bubblegum long before anyone took her ambition seriously; Gaga was once a punchline in a meat dress. In each case, legitimacy arrived only after suffering made the narrative respectable. Addison skipped that part. She studied the greats, honored the demos, screamed when screaming was necessary. Yet, her roots were too playful, too algorithmic, perhaps too openly ambitious to garner respectability. She pivoted towards the arts, instead of crawling towards it. Her ambition, without penance, reads as manufactured, especially when it comes in lip gloss. So when the Grammys handed Best New Artist to Dean, it was not about joy versus seriousness; Dean is allowed her fun. More so, Addison has always had fun. She has never disavowed her Hype House and ringlight era. She has never disavowed the bubblegum of it all, and pop culture has always been suspicious of those who look like they are having a good, yet unorthodox, time while reaching for more.
Addison Rae began her Grammys debut performance by quite literally sneaking in, riding on the back of a truck as though she were contraband rather than a nominee: a not-so-subtle nod to the ongoing insistence that she does not belong there. Across social media, many were quick to claim her vocal performance was poor. But to focus solely on pitch is to miss the point entirely. As Addison performed, she was not necessarily proving that she deserved fame; she was staging the anxiety around her presence in it. In a culture obsessed with gatekeeping serious stardom, her crime remains the same: She is a Tiktoker that went under a serious rebrand.
As “wanted” posters were plastered backstage, Addison tore them down anyway, moving forward with a hunger that felt almost impolite in its transparency. Paired with the closing shot—Addison shamelessly chasing after the Grammy, reaching for it, only for it to remain just out of grasp—the performance became a perfect illustration of her lust for fame. She does not deny it. She does not pretend she is above it. She admits she is a work in progress, and she wants more; fame is a gun, after all. The stardom-obsessed Addison does not win and her final wink feels deliberate. She will be back.
And back she is. Just a few days after declaring herself the patron saint of camp and dance floors at the Grammys, Addison has stepped fully into her pop-provocateur chapter in her latest Instagram post: swathed in black leather, flushed in hot pink lace and crowned with red hair. Where will AR2 take us? Only Addison knows, but one can hope it takes her to fame, and the Grammys, yet again.