Making a viral hit: the slow death of the three minute song

Today’s media landscape has prioritised short form content and, ever since Doja Cat’s ‘Say So’ became one of the most popular viral hits from TikTok, artists have attempted to follow suit. When PinkPantheress dropped 90-second tracks that shot up the charts and flooded TikTok, it wasn’t an outlier—it was a signal. Songs that once took their time to unfold now now have mere seconds to capture attention. As a result, the classic three-minute pop song is quietly disappearing.

For decades, the three-minute track was a standard, being the ideal length for a satisfying verse-chorus-bridge structure. But in the era of the infinite scroll and discovery through social media algorithms, this format that defined generations of pop music is being compressed into a more compact form.

One reason may be that streaming platforms like Spotify reward volume. Since artists are paid per stream, shorter songs that get replayed more often can out-earn longer ones. A two-minute song played twice will net more than a four-minute song that is only played once. 

Meanwhile, platforms like TikTok and Instagram Reels display short-form content that practically demands instant emotional or auditory gratification. For artists, that can mean that generating as much interest within a 10-15 second period is more desirable than building tension or crafting a full narrative arc.

We see this shift reflected in the charts. Many recent hits, such as Tate McRae’s songs which rarely surpass three minutes, are designed for maximum shareability. Even mainstream pop acts are trimming their tracks. What used to be a “radio edit” is now the default.

Producers are also adapting their structural approach. Songs often skip intros entirely to avoid ‘dead air’, launching straight into a chorus or a viral snippet designed to grab attention. The bridge—once a sacred space for musical experimentation—is becoming increasingly rare, a sad sight to see for me, as these are usually my favourite parts of a song. Looping beats around simplistic structures are now prioritised for high replay value. Entire production pipelines are likely now built around curating the perfect TikTok clip, not focusing on the full songs.

But the response isn’t universal. Some artists are resisting the trend. SZA, Lana Del Rey, Beyoncé, The Weeknd, Kendrick Lamar, Billie Eilish etc. release multiple songs that stretch well past four minutes. These artists show that they make music for music lovers, not TikTok scrollers. Even some for the most famous TikTok sounds were not trying to go viral. Think of RAYE and 070 Shake’s ‘Escapism’, which is over four minutes long, or PARTYNEXTDOOR and Drake’s ‘NOKIA’ and Lady Gaga’s ‘Abracadabra’.

This feeling of musical nostalgia gets lost as the three-minute song fades. I also think it can stifle an artist’s creative freedom. Shorter songs often mean less time for storytelling, fewer dynamic shifts, and more structured writing. The listener experience can feel like a feed of catchy fragments rather than a cohesive journey, or even an empty-feeling song with no exposition, and no satisfying ending. 

Albums risk becoming playlists for the sake of the algorithm, each track optimised to survive 15 seconds on TikTok, and alternatively do not stand to be popular in the months or years after its release.

This does not mean all short songs are shallow. Some use brevity as a strength, packing emotion and innovation into tight formats. But the overarching trend raises questions: Are we shaping music to fit the shortening of our attention spans, or are our attention spans shrinking due to the short-form music we see every day on our phones?

The three-minute song was once the sweet spot that joined structure with storytelling. Now, it is starting to feel like an upper limit that so often gets disregarded. In chasing the mechanics of virality, the music industry may be drifting away from the qualities that once made pop songs memorable—not just viral.