Beatlemania and the Anthony Fantano Effect

Hugging myself against the icy breeze, I instantly regret wearing a thin leather jacket as I journey down Tremont Street toward Royale. A lively concert venue located in Boston’s historic Theatre District, I pass the building’s entrance and continue down the block to join the line. The sidewalk is flooded with dozens of people clad in fantastical gothic and renaissance-inspired dresses, all waiting anxiously to see Britain’s hottest new rock band: The Last Dinner Party.

Filing into the procession, I glance around, utterly entranced and awestruck by the daring fashion choices all around me—pastel corsets are secured tightly with shiny ribbons, white intricate lace brushes the dirty pavement, and shiny, black platform shoes peek out menacingly from under billowing silk maxi skirts.

Electric energy buzzes through the air, and I overhear the bright clamor of fans in line—some talk excitedly with their friends while others reach out to strangers, complimenting their outfits and striking up conversations. Despite the chilling wind and standstill line, I can’t help but smile to myself as I absorb this touching, picturesque moment.

But my mood suddenly shifts as I start to hear the conversation taking place directly in front of me. I overhear the two men describe The Last Dinner Party’s fan base. They conclude that the band has a split fan demographic: “average” female fans, many of whom were in line waiting that night, and a small group of men who “actually appreciate the music,” also known as the “Fantano Fans.”

As a self-proclaimed music-lover and the current music coordinator at a Boston-based radio station, I have encountered my fair share of misogynistic indie men. Sometimes they express their hatred loudly and unabashedly. But other times, they let their biases lurk silently under the surface, until one day, they accidentally let it slip.

This brief moment of eavesdropping sparked my deep-dive into the “Anthony Fantano Effect,” and the ways in which these men represent a new (digital) wave of condescending, misogynistic music fans.

As a YouTuber and the self-proclaimed “Internet’s Busiest Music Nerd,” Anthony Fantano specializes in online music criticism. With 2.83 million subscribers on his official account and 1.73 million subscribers on his second channel, Fantano has been a defining voice for many music enthusiasts since 2009.

Due to his large following, many of his positive reviews have the potential to turn subscribers into full-blown fans of artists. Ultimately, I think this is a good thing, as Fantano frequently reviews up-and-coming artists, including underappreciated female and non-binary rockers like The Last Dinner Party. This exposure can expand fan bases and convince viewers who are not typically included in these bands’ target audiences to check out their music.

Problems start to occur when overtly misogynistic people start to infiltrate these music spaces. Based on the conversation I overheard, I’m going to assume that the duo standing in front of me discovered The Last Dinner Party through Anthony Fantano’s video review. While this isn’t inherently a bad thing, it became one. Blinded by their bias, they refused to see their fellow fans as equals (despite the fact that they were waiting in line that night to see the same band and hear the same music as everyone else).

This disrespect toward female-dominated fandoms has been present throughout the history of music, and this phenomenon is particularly present in rock ‘n’ roll history, with Beatlemania serving as a primary example.

Around the world, fans flocked to see The Beatles, who dominated popular culture and were considered the rock ‘n’ roll sensation of the ‘60s.Today, the band is still regarded as one of the best rock acts of all time, so much so that many college-level music courses now exclusively cover The Beatles.

However, even though much of the band’s early commercial success can be attributed to the teenage girls who bought their records in bulk, screamed uncontrollably at their concerts, and urged radio stations to play their songs, female fans of The Beatles continue to be disrespected.

To this day, male rock lovers routinely clarify that their love of The Beatles is “different” than the love young female fans experience—this is eerily similar to the way the aforementioned “Anthony Fantano fans” explained their love for The Last Dinner Party.

It is implied through these offhanded comments that men have the capacity to appreciate music on a deeper level than non-male fans. Despite this claim’s apparent invalidity, it remains deeply rooted in popular culture. Each time a man engages in this casual sexism, he attempts to push female and non-binary fans out of music spaces. To be on the reciprocating end of this hatred can be disheartening and deeply frustrating. But as I have gotten older, it has made me appreciate the power of female-dominated music spaces. Whether it be a showstopping concert or a local record store’s listening party, I am filled with a deep reverence every time I enter these spaces.

When I finally shook off the Fantano bro’s degrading comments and walked into the dimly-lit Royale on that chilly March night, I felt that reverence and power pulsating throughout the room. And as the band took to the stage, clad in their own flashy costumes complete with an assortment of hyper-feminine frills and bows, I felt an unshakable feeling of joy.

Claire DunhamApril 26, 2024