![]() This article analyses 262 memes, the majority image-macros, posted to a large Swedish anti-immigration Facebook group in order to explore the memetic normalisation of far-right nostalgia. Sweden now: The memetic normalisation of far-right nostalgia Phil is trawling through our shared pasts in search of deeper meaning on Twitter.Sweden then vs. So, let's have some fun, with or without ten thousand lightning bugs. ![]() We'd like to make ourselves believe that planet Earth turns slowly, but the truth is that it moves damn quickly. If that's the case, then perhaps all of us should enjoy the pleasure of being able to partake in this final revival. The jump from the the early to late aughts that "Fireflies" may represent is definitely an example of how these nostalgia cycles keep accelerating, and Raftery's conclusion that consumers are too splintered into niches to allow a 2010s revival ten years down the line may hold some weight. It's confirmation that we all lived through and loved these moments together and that they still matter in some way years later. Joining in with other friends and strangers in watching unrelated media get sabotaged by that distinct "someBODY" intro is a shared thrill at accessing a communal memory. But this re-engagement has some value of its own. It'll eventually be replaced by something else, as is the cyclical nature of nostalgia. In a piece about the early 00s revival occurring in New York indie rock, Wired's Brian Raftery argues that "nostalgia, especially other people's nostalgia, is a necessary reminder that your own personal canon could use a few adjustments." We're definitely in a wave where content creators who grew up on the emo and earnest alt-rock of the 00s are responsible for generating works that both celebrate and mock what we liked as kids. But there is a validation of sorts happening here, too. ![]() We're all smirking and playing pop-culture hopscotch to some extent when we engage in these memes. The question: is it still genuinely cool now? ![]() "Man, wasn't it wild that we thought this was cool at one point?" we ask. This is a kind of detachment, a half-embarrassed glance back at life viewed through the uncritical eyes of the teenagers we all once were. You don't actually like "Bring Me Back to Life" again, it's just really humorous to remember a time when that song and others like it maybe meant the world to you. Still, it's weird that the primary means through which we've resuscitated this music is through irony and absurdity. It's remarkable that some of them haven't re-charted given how streaming has made a democratic mess of the Hot 100. Brightside," and "Lose Yourself" should be counted as pieces of 2010s pop-culture ephemera, prevalent as they are through memes. This keeps happening, too.Īt this point, it's obvious that vintage smashes like "All Star," "Mr. Millennials have revived this song because it's funny. You could make a case for how "Fireflies" is a perfect union of the late 00s' two biggest music modes (electro-pop and emo), and thus survives as a perfect encapsulation of the era, but come on. With all this working against it, "Fireflies" has persisted, returning to the public eye so prominently that Owl City head Adam Young is gamely answering questions about the math behind his fluffy lyrics. Yes, it's eight years old, yes it's as lethally saccharine as eating ten million birthday cakes, and yes it sounds like Postal Service covering Toto's "Africa" as a Coldplay song, which is a combo that slaps far less than that description suggests.
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