Everyone get more analog right now!!!

Intellectual it-girls & finding the after-party

One of the biggest trends I see floating around the Internet, across video essays and among the intellectual it-girls, is that analog is gonna be big in 2026. Culturally, at least in North American spaces (and probably elsewhere too), this feels poignant. As someone who works in the influencer and other online spaces, I’ve been feeling a strong desire to go offline whenever I can.

I love my job, don’t get me wrong. But there’s been a shared sentiment amongst my coworkers and the creators I work with: after spending the entire day online, only interacting with people on our devices, we close our laptops, turn our phones off, look around, and realize we’re just sitting alone in our apartments. We haven’t spoken out loud to a real person all day, and it feels draining and isolating.

It is such a privilege to work remotely, to have a mysterious source of income that appears out of the internet void. But it has also caused immense loneliness, social isolation, and arguably, cultural stagnation. At least among the people I know, spend time with, and work with. It’s something I feel personally.

I try to balance this by spending as much time as I can in person with my friends, especially friends who don’t care about Instagram or TikTok. Our phones are away when we’re together. But of course, it’s always a bit tough to balance, especially as someone who lives alone and needs a lot of alone time to recharge. Reminding myself that I do need to interact with the outside world can be an internal struggle when it feels easier and more addictive to stay in, alone on my phone.

Something else that ties more directly to arts, culture, and the music industry as a whole is the fact that we don’t own anything anymore. I only started buying music again (outside of CDs and vinyl) in the last couple of years when I began DJing, because I wanted high-quality files to put on my USB for my sets. But at the same time, when everything is a subscription service, online, behind a login you have to two-factor authenticate, it doesn’t feel like we own any of the cultural elements that are meant to inspire and connect us.

Of course, there are solutions to this: buying vinyl, CDs, cassettes, and DVDs. I have a friend who recently bought a Blu-ray player and is buying a ton of DVDs because she’s sick of paying for 4 different subscription services just to watch one TV show. Similarly, I have friends whose jobs don’t rely on being online who are trying to go completely offline, reviving old iPods, and buying CD and cassette players.

I think all of this is a reactionary swing to years and years of trying to “optimize” everything, make things frictionless, and make everything available for a renewable subscription price. It feels like we don’t own anything, and like all of this could disappear one day if a few billionaires decide to pull the plug.

All of this also pairs with the fact that over the last year and a half or so, there’s been a rise in community arts events. I personally think this is a reaction to COVID, online spaces, and younger generations having a harder time finding real community IRL. Many didn’t get to experience that part of growing up because we were online and at home. That missed bridge has created an intense desire to find “your people,” but without knowing where to start or where to look.

This has led to a sort of TikTok-ified approach. Video hooks start with “Do you want to meet real friends? Do you know where the underground parties are?” Instead of going to venues, local shows, getting to know promoters, or just showing up in person, people try to find it through SEO-optimized, algorithm-friendly TikTok series. It’s kind of absurd to me, but I also understand where it comes from. These people weren’t introduced to the alternatives, so it’s not really their fault. I think both approaches can coexist, but it’s been fascinating to watch this intense return and desire for tangible experiences that simply can’t be replicated online.

I always feel like the solution is to engage with the immediate community around you. If you don’t know where to go, sure, do some research. Maybe you’ll find the event on TikTok. But once you show up, talk to the people there. Don’t expect guest list. Understand that your contribution helps keep these things possible. Talk to the artists. Get involved. Get to know the people in the scene and figure out how you can help. Whether that’s volunteering, going to shows, or just being genuinely supportive. Keep up with your friends, and ask to hang out during the daytime so they’re not just party friends.

All that said, I am going to order a charger to revive my hot-pink iPod Nano, so I can go for walks and listen to music without my phone.