Addison Rae’s ‘Addison’ Is a Pop Star Origin Story

Many questions about Addison Rae lingered in my mind as I listened to the singles that preceded her debut album, Addison (2025). “Diet Pepsi” and “Aquamarine” are so charming, so artistic. Is it weird to be weirded out by an artist releasing something that feels like art? Was this always there? Could Rae have always been this kind of pop star? Did she grow into it, or was this the plan all along, even back when we first met her as a TikTok content creator?

Sure, new-generation artists like Sabrina Carpenter and Tate McRae pull streaming numbers that prove English-language pop is still alive and well, and Taylor Swift remains the millennial pop queen who successfully bridged eras, proving herself to be a pop giant from the golden age of Beyoncé, Lady Gaga, Rihanna, Katy Perry, and more. However, for those who lived through that era of pop royalty, the current landscape feels more fragmented. In a world where 2010s alternative music has become mainstream, and niches like Latin music and K-pop now share the global spotlight, it can feel like the textbook diva pop fan has less to worship nowadays. Then, there’s Addison Rae.

Rae’s name is rarely included in the same breath as Sabrina Carpenter, Olivia Rodrigo, Gracie Abrams, Dua Lipa, Billie Eilish, or Tate McRae. Many people still don’t believe she belongs in this conversation. However, with Addison, she shows that she should.

Addison isn’t the album that will “save pop”, but what it does is enough to pose the question of how far Rae can go with her art, regardless of her commercial success, and to make us question the limits we might have placed on her since her TikTok beginnings. The music in Addison lives in a post-Charli XCX and Lana Del Rey universe. The melodies are rooted in the same pop songwriting conventions that these three artists have helped popularize: you’ll hear Charli XCX in “Money is everything”, Del Rey in “Summer forever”. However, this is just the foundation of the melody. 

Digging deeper into the album’s architecture, which is delicately built upon breathy vocals and dreamy synths, my mind goes farther too: there’s Björk and Ray of Light Madonna, or, more accurately, there’s the attempt at those references, which alone is compelling. It’s easier to detect it in “Aquamarine”, “In the rain”, “Life’s no fun through clear waters.” If you think of younger artists when listening to these tracks, it’s only because they were obviously influenced by Björk and Madonna, too. Of course, many are, but Addison does it with more purpose than others in the airy synthpop, whisper-pop trend of the 2020s. 

You hear effort. Not despair, not someone trying too hard, but effort as in a healthy obsession to create something worthy. I haven’t even looked at Rae’s Instagram bio (which, as of this writing, says: “Effort is ritual”) when I heard it. Rae doesn’t borrow influences from the way Gen Z often collages retro aesthetics on TikTok. Rae’s effort feels like she is in love with her relationship with artistry. 

The contrast between Addison’s desired depth and Rae’s past as a TikTok sensation (where depth is often far from the intention) makes it all more interesting. Would I still find this record interesting if it weren’t for that? Maybe. “Diet Pepsi” is a pop song that couldn’t possibly be ignored. It draws from a semi-nostalgic synthpop palette, evoking an old-school, conservative notion of daring sensuality in the lyrics that could almost feel dangerous to invoke in 2025. Yet Rae makes it feel current, fresh, and sincere. 

The vocals and production in “Diet Pepsi” follow the footsteps of synthpop, aiming to feel alternative while also acknowledging that the ‘alternative’ aesthetic has long since gone mainstream. In the track’s final seconds, when the chorus is sung a tone lower, it harks back to both the 1990s/2000s tradition of pop songs that feature a key change at the end and the TikTok tradition of slowed-tempo, tone-down tracks.

Overall, the production dresses Addison in an experimental sheen, but underneath, the melodies remain radio-friendly at their core. “In the Rain” could be a Katy Perry chorus with a belt, and “Summer Forever” might as well be a Lana Del Rey track if sung in a lower, hazier tone.

Except for “Diet Pepsi”, “Fame Is a Gun”, “Summer Forever”, and “Aquamarine”, perhaps, Addison could be forgotten if, as a listener, I weren’t aware that this is a pop effort from a person who didn’t seem to gather the conditions to want to do something like that. That is not how the pop music industry works, though. Self, persona, past, present, potential: all of these are part of how we consume pop stars and their music.

Within this context, all songs in Addison have a strong appeal. Proof of it is that I’m not sure if this album does more for Rae’s branding or my enjoyment. By the time it ends, I’m torn between replaying it or letting Spotify guide me through similar synth-y, girly English-sung pop. Either way, I’m left with a new idea of who Addison Rae is, and this idea is way more interesting than how I feel about most of the pop music in those algorithmic playlists.