In the high-stakes theater of modern pop, where sonic architecture is as branded as a luxury logo, a quiet accusation has triggered a seismic ripple through the industry. Addison Rae, the TikTok phenomenon turned critical darling and Grammy nominee, has implicitly alleged that the distinctive sound of her breakout hit, "Diet Pepsi," may have been misappropriated. Following a revealing profile in the Los Angeles Times and subsequent reporting by Cosmopolitan and The Tab, the music world is dissecting a narrative that transcends mere celebrity gossip. This is not a simple feud between starlets; it is a complex exposé of the "weird" machinations of pop production, implicating major hitmakers, linking to Tate McRae’s latest release, and raising uncomfortable questions about authorship in an era of manufactured nostalgia. As Addison Rae solidifies her transition from influencer to serious artist, this controversy marks her first true battle for creative sovereignty.
The Allegation: "Weird Things" Behind the Boards
The genesis of this industry tremor lies in a seemingly throwaway comment buried within a glossy Los Angeles Times profile. When discussing the notoriously volatile dynamics of the music business—often dominated by shifting alliances and "song camps"—Rae offered a glimpse into a specific frustration. She alluded to a producer whom she and her team had attempted to collaborate with, only to ultimately exclude from the project. "No bad blood," she clarified, maintaining a veneer of diplomacy.
However, the diplomatic facade cracked when she revealed the aftermath. "Then all of a sudden," Rae noted, "this person had gone and worked with someone else, and things were sounding similar." She described the situation as "weird" and "confusing," deliberately stopping short of naming names but planting a flag of ownership over her sonic identity. For an artist frequently dismissed as an "industry plant" or a beneficiary of algorithm-driven fame, this assertion of creative theft is a pivotal moment of agency.
The subtext here is critical. In the upper echelons of pop music, a "sound"—a specific drum compression, a vocal chain, a melodic contour—is intellectual property. Rae’s comments suggest that the "Diet Pepsi" aesthetic was not a generic product of the machine, but a curated vision that an external collaborator attempted to export to a rival camp.
The Suspects: Decoding the Tate McRae Connection
While Rae maintained a strategic silence regarding identities, the digital sleuths of the pop-stan ecosystem—and investigative reporting from The Tab—have rapidly filled in the blanks. The arrow of speculation points sharply toward Tate McRae’s recent track, "Purple Lace Bra," featured on her album So Close To What.
The forensic analysis focuses on the sonic overlap between Rae’s breathless, Y2K-inflected "Diet Pepsi" and McRae’s similarly textured track. Listeners have identified parallel structural elements, comparable vocal production techniques, and a shared atmospheric "gloss" that defines the current wave of nostalgia-pop.
The scrutiny has centered on the production credits. "Purple Lace Bra" credits include industry heavyweights Emile Haynie and Amy Allen. The prevailing theory, fueled by timeline cross-referencing, suggests that one of these figures may be the "weird" collaborator Rae referenced—someone who allegedly took the "Diet Pepsi" blueprint and reapplied it to McRae’s project. It is crucial to note that neither Haynie, Allen, nor McRae have publicly addressed these speculations, and Rae herself has emphasized that the artists themselves (her and Tate) remain on good terms. The friction here is not interpersonal; it is institutional.
The Three-Woman Unit: Redefining Pop Authorship
Perhaps the most illuminating aspect of this controversy is what it reveals about Addison Rae’s creative process. Contrary to the image of a passive vocalist handed hits by a boardroom of men, the narrative emerging from this drama highlights a tight-knit, predominantly female creative nucleus.
The Tab highlights that Rae’s album, Addison, is fundamentally the product of a "three-woman unit" comprising Rae, producer/writer Luka Kloser, and executive producer Elvira Anderfjärd. This trio represents a significant deviation from the Max Martin school of pop, where songs are often written by committee. By circling the wagons and keeping the creative team small, Rae has attempted to insulate her sound from the industry’s tendency toward homogenization.
This context re-frames the "copying" accusation. It is not just about a stolen melody; it is about the integrity of this specific female-led unit being breached by an established industry figure who allegedly treated their output as a transferable commodity. In this light, Rae’s complaint is a structural critique of how male-dominated production circles often view young female artists as interchangeable vessels for the same sonic trends.
The "Industry Plant" Paradox & The Britney Blueprint
This producer drama does not exist in a vacuum; it lands in the middle of a heated debate regarding Rae’s legitimacy. As noted by Betches and Trends of the Times, Rae is perpetually fighting the "industry plant" label—the suspicion that her success is entirely engineered by PR spend and fake engagement rather than organic talent.
There is a profound irony at play. Critics argue that Rae’s entire artistic persona is a high-fidelity simulation of Britney Spears—a deliberate, strategic appropriation of Y2K aesthetics, breathy vocals, and "slave 4 u" visual coding. If Rae’s brand is built on referencing the past, can she claim to be "copied"?
The answer, according to modern pop logic, is yes. While the references (Britney, Pepsi, early 2000s maximalism) are public domain, the specific synthesis of those elements by Rae, Kloser, and Anderfjärd constitutes a unique signature. The accusation suggests that while anyone can do Y2K, not everyone should be doing *this specific version* of Y2K. It is the difference between a trend and a trademark.
Timeline: The Sonic Breadcrumbs
- The Rise: Addison Rae transitions from TikTok fame to music, facing early skepticism but pivoting to a curated, high-gloss pop sound.
- The Breakthrough: "Diet Pepsi" is released to critical acclaim, becoming a viral sensation and securing Rae a "Best New Artist" Grammy nomination.
- The Release: Tate McRae releases So Close To What, featuring "Purple Lace Bra," produced by Emile Haynie and Amy Allen.
- The Interview (Dec 2025): In the LA Times, Rae alludes to a producer she "tried to include" who later released "similar" work with another artist.
- The Fallout (Current): Cosmopolitan and The Tab connect the dots to Tate McRae’s team; fans begin dissecting stems and credits, sparking a debate on producer ethics.
Cultural Verdict: The Homogenization of the "Vibe"
From a wider cultural lens, this dispute illustrates the "Vibe Shift" problem in the streaming era. As producers rely on the same plugin chains, sample packs, and reference tracks to chase the algorithm, pop music has become increasingly flattened.
The similarity between "Diet Pepsi" and "Purple Lace Bra" may not be malicious theft, but rather a symptom of a market that demands immediate familiarity. When "whisper-pop meets 2000s R&B" becomes the mandate for success, every song begins to share DNA. However, for Rae, whose transition from influencer to artist relies entirely on establishing a distinct identity, the stakes are higher. She cannot afford to sound like a preset; she needs to sound like an auteur.
This incident also highlights a shift in power dynamics. Historically, producers held the cards. Today, an artist with Rae’s platform can utilize the media to police their collaborators, signaling that "back-end conversations" are no longer immune to public scrutiny. It is a warning shot to the production community: the "influencer" is paying attention.
What Happens Next?
As the Grammy Awards approach, we can expect this narrative to serve a dual purpose for Addison Rae. While potentially messy, it reinforces her narrative as a serious musician fighting for her art—a crucial angle for courting Recording Academy voters who may still view her as a "TikTok girl."
Future Implications
1. The Closed-Door Policy: Expect top-tier pop stars to increasingly adopt the "Addison Model"—locking down small, exclusive production teams (like Olivia Rodrigo with Dan Nigro or Billie Eilish with Finneas) to prevent sonic leakage.
2. The Producer Reckoning: Names like Emile Haynie and Amy Allen may face increased scrutiny regarding their "recycling" habits. In a stan culture that reads liner notes like scripture, producers are now public figures subject to cancellation alongside the artists they serve.
3. The Tate vs. Addison Narrative: Despite their personal friendship, the media will likely continue to position them as rivals in the "New Pop Princess" lane. This could lead to a divergence in sound for their next projects as they scramble to differentiate themselves from the "glossy Y2K" trap.
Ultimately, this saga confirms that Addison Rae has successfully graduated from content creator to pop star. She now has what every major diva before her has endured: a controversy about who really owns the sound of the summer.
Written by Ara Ohanian for FAZ Fashion — fashion intelligence for the modern reader.
