This was a strange year for that-mainly because I’m not sure what “crossover” means anymore. ![]() Julianne, you asked me about the charts and crossover. By the time Adele showed up to hit a giant reset button in October it felt like 2015 was just beginning, and the year was more than three-fourths over. For the second straight year we had a fizzle of a summer-song battle (ah, OMI, we hardly knew ye), and our fall was commanded by another prodigal pop star, Justin Bieber, executing his treacherous comeback. On the Hot 100, America spent literally the entire first half of the year listening primarily to two giant songs-the one about peacocking, self-kissing dude bros and the one about mourning, muscle-car-driving dude bros. On the charts, Taylor Swift methodically executed the back half of her global #squad-amassing plan, milking an album that was already crushing everything in fall 2014 for hit after hit after hit. Last year’s most acclaimed album, D’Angelo’s Black Messiah, landed just before Christmas, missed most publications’ year-end surveys and dominated tastemaker playlists deep into the new year. If I may refine Carl’s assessment of 2015, this year felt to me like, if not an eye blink, perhaps a hangover from 2014.
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