When Art Meets Demand: Artistic Integrity in an Era of Overconsumption

I still remember the first time I heard the song “Goodbye” by The Sundays. With a soft guitar opening, the song quickly drifted into an inspiring, nostalgic beat that took me back to a time I never lived. It soon became my soundtrack for anything sentimental, devastating, or exciting, and each time I listened, it revealed something new that I loved about it. Naturally, I rummaged through the rest of their limited discography, only to feel a pang of disappointment when I discovered just three albums of Harriet Wheeler's siren-like voice existed. Knowing this, I savored every moment and became acquainted with a new song each day, falling in love with each reverbed guitar, wistful lyric, and uplifting melody that evoked what felt like the very essence of my soul. That is when I shifted my view of their discography from one of lacking to one of intention, perfectly complete in its brevity.

I believe there’s something to be said for leaving things as they are. We often hear this sentiment regarding the television shows we love: “They really should have stopped after season 2”. In today’s context, there’s a tendency to prioritize the unnecessary, where our desires become confused with our needs. While we can attribute this to capitalism, what does it say about the integrity of art? We all adore the Mona Lisa, but we didn’t flood Leonardo da Vinci with demands to hurry up with his next creation. It has been cherished for centuries, and that’s precisely how it was intended to be. 

This notion flies out the window when it comes to music, however. There is always more to consume. Is an artist taking too long to release an album? Let's leak their unreleased songs. Oh, she finally dropped her album last week? Okay, when does the next one come out though? And why wasn't that one unreleased song on the album? When all is said and done, it's never really done, and there's always more to say. 

As our media landscape becomes increasingly saturated, we struggle to sit with things. I fall victim to this as well, which is why discovering The Sundays, twenty years after their breakup, brought me comfort in Static and Silence (coincidentally the title of their final album). I learned each song front to back. No remasters, remixes, or surprises—just the raw sounds they crafted in their London studio, left untouched to express what needed to be said at that moment in time. So you’d imagine the conflicting feelings that arose when I discovered that someone had been circulating an unreleased song by The Sundays on TikTok this past year.

When I first heard it, I was kicking myself for somehow missing the song among their three albums. After meticulously sifting through the tracks, I realized it had never been formally released, and I won’t lie, I was thrilled. The song was beautiful, and hearing Harriet’s voice in a fresh way felt surreal. But that excitement began to fade when I discovered they had put out a new EP, featuring the unreleased track “Life Goes On” alongside “Through the Dark.” Don’t get me wrong, I’ve listened to these songs countless times since, but something about the experience has shifted. The release feels forced, and calculated, almost like an attempt to cash in on nostalgia rather than offer genuine artistic expression. What could have been a hidden gem, a treasure unearthed from the past, now feels like a product of the present, crafted more for consumption than for the soul.

I felt as though the intimacy I had built with a beloved work of art had been taken from me. It felt inauthentic, especially because authenticity was something I had always admired about The Sundays. I’ve always disliked discovering that a band from the '90s has released seven albums of remastered and remixed tracks before you even reach the core of their discography. Not to mention bands like The Smashing Pumpkins or Alice in Chains, who have released new albums that some longtime fans found less authentic. The Sundays on the other hand, formed their band in college, released three remarkable albums, had children, and then disbanded, capturing a fleeting moment in time that was executed perfectly. The introduction of TikTok-ified songs felt like a violation of the delicate narrative they had created and shared with their devoted fans. Not to sound parasocial, but would Harriet have wanted this? 

That being said, I’m truly grateful to have had the chance to hear more songs from the past rather than new material from The Sundays that feels counterfeit to their original sound. However, this brings up a larger conversation about the nature of nostalgia in music and the impact of commercialization on artistic integrity. It raises questions about how we engage with our favorite bands and whether new releases can ever truly capture the essence of what made us fall in love with their music in the first place. As listeners, we grapple with the tension between wanting more content and longing to preserve the authenticity of the art that has shaped our lives. 

Now that I've shared my thoughts, if you're curious to hear some of The Sundays' best-hidden gems, take a listen to the playlist of my personal favorites. If you've ever wanted to feel the rush of coming of age wrapped in nostalgia, these songs will take you there.