Which band or artist would you resurrect from obscurity if you could? It’s a question I feel like I’ve been preoccupied with since my late teens, when all the bands I grew up loving had long been consigned to the “has-been” category, with all the ridicule that used to come with.
One of those groups was the Sugababes, who are performing on Friday at the O2 in London after a year of galvanising old fans to attempt the “Push the Button” choreography. I’m lucky enough to be going.
The epitome of cool for a time, their moody pop offerings spoke to me in a way that made me feel a part of something as a kid. As this anecdote proves, I didn’t care too much for what they were singing about. It was their relatability – aloof, young, inner-city girls – and talent – gorgeous, sweet harmonies – that really spoke to me.
It was why, after the replacement of Siobhán Donaghy with Heidi Range and the eventual replacement of Mutya Buena, and then Keisha Buchanan, I couldn’t get on board with the new line-up. These were imposters, whereas the OGs, teenagers when the world was introduced to them, represented the earliest stages of my adolescence.
By the time the original line-up tried to relaunch for the first time in 2013, the world was not exactly receptive to the idea of comebacks. We still saw old acts – especially women – as “past it” once they – according to 00s and early 2010s rules – no longer had the elixir of youth and sex appeal to offer the public.
There was nothing more excruciating than watching a so-called has-been attempt to claw their way back into a spot that had long been occupied by carbon-copy teenage versions of the stardom they once brought.
Though certified legends could often usher in their greatest hits eras with a little less shame, the notion that any once-popular artist could tour, for years, off the back of their fans’ enduring love for their artistry, felt quite rare. Even when it came to bands like The Rolling Stones, long thought of as having reached legendary status, reverence for their longevity often gave way to ageist mocking in pop culture when I was growing up.
Tina Turner is another example of how the music business once saw ageing or “has been” artists. Though her 80s comeback pre-dates the 00s, it’s a pretty remarkable example of how exclusive the industry has long been and how hard it is to redefine the cultural memory of a public figure.
She may have died beloved, with her undeniable, awe-inspiring gift for artistry clear as day, but she still had to go to extraordinary, exhausting lengths to solidify that impression in the first place.
That’s not to say that everyone who does come back has to be on the Tina Turner-level of artistic genius. Each and every time the Backstreet Boys attempted to revive their careers, a part of me has wanted them to succeed. When they finally did in their own way – securing a residency in Vegas in 2016 and touring to this day – I felt happy for them.
Just like I did when I heard about The Package Tour, in which New Kids on the Block, 98 Degrees and Boyz II Men came together to give their grown-up fans a slice of New Jack Swing. Or, to even greater heights (since I was actually a teenager when these bands were out) the various iterations of the Millennium Tour, which, despite initially being mocked, saw millennials flock to see bands like B2K, Mario, Pretty Ricky and more.
I think that’s part of why the arrival of Verzuz, a web-streaming series launched following fan-backed calls for two artists to go up against each other with their music catalogues, was such a huge hit during the pandemic. Holed up in our homes, we wanted anything that was familiar or an emblem of a “better time”.
Legacy acts are nothing new, of course. But the way that we now talk about them seems to have shifted considerably. So much so that there’s not a hint of irony behind my excitement for seeing The Sugababes’ performance at the O2 this weekend. The beauty now being that I’ll be able to enjoy the concert in a way I never could have as a kid: with the aid of alcohol and affectionate memories.
I hope this spate of respect for artists like these, from the one-hit wonders to the disbanded stars of yesteryear, continues for the next generation. When Ice Spice, PinkPantheress, Olivia Rodrigo or whoever the kids like these days enter their 30s, 40s and 50s, I hope the industry makes space for them. Just don’t call it a comeback. Or do – perhaps by then it’ll carry a different meaning.