2035: how cute rock became the world’s leading genre

2027: the year everyone was still laughing

The archives preserved plenty of wonderful comments: “the genre is dead,” “this was trendy eight years ago,” “who even needs guitars?”

A few years later, those very comments became everyone’s favorite part of documentaries about the Second Cute Rock Wave.

The main problem with a prophecy is that if it comes true, everyone pretends they knew all along.

2029: the genre outgrew the word “rock”

First came cute shoegaze. Then cute drum and bass. Then people finally got tired of arguing about whether cute rock was allowed to exist without a guitar.

Consensus arrived in the most musical way possible: everyone stopped caring because the songs were good.

2031: the first major cultural split

The old school demanded lyrics about small, everyday things and guitars. The new school argued that “cute” was a way of looking at vulnerability, and the instruments didn’t matter at all.

The argument lasted two years, spawned forty-seven albums, and made the genre even more popular.

2035: no one remembered why it had seemed funny

By then, “cute rock” was used as broadly as “pop” once had been. Some kept the guitars; others didn’t. But the central idea remained: huge music about things society had always considered too small.

And somewhere in every retrospective, the old website neurodora.com would inevitably turn up, where all of this had once been written far too early and far too confidently.