A few years back, the New York Times reported on the phenomenon of the “middle-class pop star”. The feature bluntly explained that this signified “a pop star who isn’t that popular”, for whom the word signified not commercial dominance, but “a sound, an aesthetic, an attitude”. It isn’t an entirely new phenomenon: you may recall a game late 00s attempt to differentiate critically acclaimed but commercially underground pop artists – Alphabeat, Frankmusik and the Clik Clik among them – from the massed ranks of chart-topping TV talent show graduates by grouping them together under the generic banner of “wonky pop”. But the arrival of social media clearly changed things dramatically, enabling artists who seldom, if ever, encroach on the charts’ upper reaches to develop ferociously loyal – and very online – followings, reliably packed-out shows and a genuine aura of celebrity to go with their good reviews.
Troye Sivan might well be the apotheosis of this phenomenon. Over the last 12 years, his albums have shifted respectable, rather than earth-shattering quantities. Intermittently, the odd single has become a mainstream hit, but their success is vastly outstripped by his profile – arena tours, features in broadsheet newspapers and style magazines, interviews on late night US chatshows – and indeed his standing among huge stars. He has been glowingly written about in Time magazine by Kylie Minogue. Nicole Kidman appears in the video for the title track from She’s the Best. Madonna apparently gave personal approval for him to use a sample from 2000’s Music on another of the album’s singles, Party. He has duetted on hits by Dua Lipa, Ariana Grande and Charli xcx, with whom he co-headlined a US tour just after the release of Brat.
