There was a time when the soul of every party was just one hook away. Do you remember it? “What’s My Name,” “Let Me Love You,” “Replay”—songs that all shared the same nonsensical yet strangely addictive chant: na-na-na. As more of us begin revisiting the sounds of the 2010s, this simple little syllable is ringing in our ears once again.
Andres Estrada, a music blogger based in Los Angeles and the mind behind the popular Instagram account 2000spophits, recently posted a viral video—a montage of hit tracks from the 2010s, all echoing that unmistakable na-na-na. “Do you guys remember this?!” the caption teased. The comment section exploded. Turns out, not only did we remember—we could still hum along.
British pop culture journalist Alim Kheraj had his own flashback. “I was in university when it started, going out in those god-awful clubs in Brighton,” he laughs. “Then later in my twenties, we’d blast these songs in the kitchen during house parties. You didn’t think much of it back then—but when you see all those examples lined up, it hits you how dominant it really was.”
So why did it take over? Matt Squire, one of the producers behind the 2010s’ brightest stars—Charli XCX, One Direction, 3OH!3, Ariana Grande—thinks it’s simple: “It’s catchy. It’s primal. You don’t need to translate it, understand it, or even remember lyrics. Just feel it and yell it.”
Matt recalls crafting One Direction’s “Na Na Na”—a track that embodied this era of pop songwriting. “The label wanted a universal hook. Something with attitude, youth, ease. We weren’t looking for poetic lyrics; we wanted instant connection.”
Meanwhile in Scandinavia, producers like Max Martin and Stargate were fine-tuning the same formula. They borrowed from ABBA’s playbook—strip down the song to its most melodic core. “It’s no coincidence,” says Kheraj. “So many of the most iconic na-na-na tracks were crafted by Swedes who understood how to write songs that could travel across languages.”
Emily Wilson, a Paris-based art student, still remembers that summer in Nice, 2011. She and a group of international exchange students rented a cheap flat, played music into the night. “Every time that ‘na-na-na’ came on, no matter the song, we all joined in. It was silly, joyful. We didn’t all speak the same language, but we spoke that.”
There’s something ancient about it. Not just the sound, but what it does to us. Throughout human history, we’ve chanted, repeated, sung in unison—not for meaning, but for connection. It’s rhythmic. Symmetrical. Memorable. And in the 2010s, pop music weaponized that idea.
But is that era really over?
Today’s pop music is sharper, snarkier, more self-aware. Charli XCX might still party hard, but her new album Brat pokes fun at the very culture na-na-na once ruled. As Squire puts it, “It’s not about catchy syllables anymore—it’s about sharp one-liners that kill on TikTok.” A lyric like “I’m so Julia” grabs more attention than any melodic mumbling could.

Kheraj agrees: “We’re no longer in the age of the crowd chorus. People want taglines they can lip-sync, mimic, meme. The na-na-na’s are now background noise to a viral soundbite.”
Still, they haven’t completely disappeared. Peggy Gou’s “(It Goes Like) Nanana” turned dance floors into echo chambers again last summer. Addison Rae’s debut track “New York” is basically one long na-na-na with glitter. Artists like Doechii, Tate McRae, and Sabrina Carpenter are also slipping it back into their songs—but this time, with a wink.
What used to be a secret weapon is now a nostalgic seasoning. Not dominant, but not forgotten either.
Maybe that’s how pop music works. It reflects what we’re missing. Back then, we needed something everyone could sing at once—on the dance floor, in the kitchen, in a club. Today, we’re okay with humming alone in our headphones, scrolling past the world.
But still—if you find yourself at an airport duty-free shop, a late-night cab ride, or a random coffee shop, and that familiar na-na-na hits the air again, don’t be surprised. That’s not a throwback. That’s your past checking in. That’s a part of you, humming along, still wide awake.
Because some nights were just too good to forget.