After a four-year absence from touring, Justin Bieber made a highly anticipated return by headlining the main stage at Coachella. His performance, however, sparked significant debate among audiences and critics alike. During a controversial segment of the show, Bieber was seen singing along to YouTube clips, and at times, he did not sing at all.
Coachella attracts up to 125,000 attendees each weekend, with its reach extending far beyond the physical venue. The festival is also livestreamed to an enormous international audience, with 5.89 million people subscribing to its YouTube channel.
The reaction to Bieber’s performance varied widely. Some argued that it was a clever commentary on nostalgia, while others saw it as a lazy display of disrespect. However, when viewed through a historical lens, his performance can be interpreted as an intriguing contribution to the evolving concept of “live” performance.
What happened during Bieber’s performance?
The controversial section of the show lasted approximately 20 minutes out of the 90-minute set. While Coachella is known for guest appearances, Bieber brought in several artists during other parts of the performance, including Dijon, Tems, Wizkid, Mk.gee, and The Kid Laroi. Much of the set followed a traditional festival format.
However, there were early signs that something different was in store. After performing “Speed Demon,” Bieber looked directly into the camera and addressed his “living room” audience, with the giant screens at Coachella displaying the chat feed from the livestream.
As the show approached the 50-minute mark, Bieber spoke to the audience again: “Tonight is such a special night, but I feel like we gotta take you guys on a bit of a journey. You guys remember this song?”
Sitting at a laptop, he typed “baby” into the YouTube search bar, which appeared on the screen. The video for his 2010 hit “Baby” played, and he sang along, omitting certain lyrics and silently mouthing others. This moment highlighted how modern performances often rely on backing tracks, though they are typically hidden from view.
In this case, the backing vocalist sounded more mature than Bieber’s former high-pitched voice, creating a kind of duet. After the main hook, Bieber abruptly ended the song and revisited the theme of going back: “But how far back do you go?” He then played “Favorite Girl” from 2009 and sang over the chorus before another abrupt ending.
Bieber continued to move quickly through a range of YouTube hits, apologizing only once—not for the abrupt endings but for cutting short “Confident”: “I’m sorry to cut it, but these are just little snippets.”
He also played early YouTube cover versions of Chris Brown and Ne-Yo songs, followed by his commercial hits “Sorry” and “Where Are Ü Now.” After feigning a Wi-Fi dropout, the focus shifted to pop culture references, including a blooper reel featuring footage of young Bieber walking into a glass door and falling through a stage floor. A more recent rant about paparazzi and privacy was also shown.
As a producer of live shows and researcher of performance technologies, I found the segment fascinating and entertaining. I’m hardly a Belieber, but I appreciated how this performance challenged expectations around what constitutes “liveness.”
I wonder if the “lazy” reviewers realized that every pause and anecdote in this section was likely rehearsed, and that the on-screen typing was pre-produced? There’s too much at stake in a performance of this scale to leave it to chance.
What makes music “live”?
There is a long history of artists interacting with their recorded selves and blurring the lines between the past and present. In 1967, The Doors brought a television on stage to watch themselves in a pre-taped variety show performance. In subsequent decades, Kraftwerk presented themselves as robots rather than virtuosi. In the 21st century, Deadmau5 exposed conventions for pre-recorded festival sets in electronic dance music.
By using pre-recorded or sequenced audio instead of playing instruments live, these artists have consistently played with audience expectations about what is seen and how it connects to what is heard.
As a child, I watched Natalie Cole’s 1992 Grammy performance alongside her deceased father, Nat King Cole. My parents found it moving, while I found it creepy. Other examples include a hologram of Tupac Shakur “performing” at Coachella in 2012 and a hologram of Maria Callas “singing” with the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra in 2023.
These holograms offer access to otherwise inaccessible performances and attempt to keep the past alive. In a way, Bieber’s performance attempted something similar, engaging directly with his own past performances.
He not only called upon pre-recorded materials but also his own viral history. His self-referential performance was directly inspired by online cultural consumption. His interaction with YouTube was relatable and human, rather than detached and lazy.
YouTube and performance
As a DJ, I first became aware of YouTube’s impact on the presentation of performances through the emergence of Boiler Room, a channel that showcases videos of DJs performing while surrounded by an audience. Eventually, the optics of these videos influenced how clubbing might look, with nightclubs and festivals adopting “Boiler Room setups,” where DJs are surrounded by a dancing crowd instead of being elevated and separated.
Despite encouraging a generation of overt posers, Boiler Room showed how what we see online influences what is presented on stage. Bieber takes this idea to a much larger audience, demonstrating real engagement with his presence in pop culture online. How we react to this performance may shape future live shows.
Mike Callander does not work for, consult, own shares in, or receive funding from any company or organization that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
