If your algorithm is anything like mine, you might have noticed a growing wave of artists using burner or finsta accounts. Some are totally anonymous, others are just spaces for less polished, more off-the-cuff versions of the artist. For example, there’s PinkPantheress’ @burtsbeessavedmylife, where she’s practised TikTok dances with her mates, dropped unreleased dubs, and even debuted her hit ‘Boy’s A Liar’; Jim Legxacy builds lore and community with his spam @morleysindownham; singer-songwriter YAZ forsakes her verified tick and a few hundred thousand followers on @y4zda3rd.

So, what’s the reasoning here? For YAZ, it’s almost an alternative marketing technique. “Burner accounts allow people to feel like they’re in on something before anything else, so they feel more connected to whatever it is,” she tells me. “It feels less like you’re promoting or trying to push something, and more like showing your friends and asking for [their] opinions. It encourages people to engage and push it for you.”

Writing this as a musician myself, I get the appeal. I’ve found myself drawn to the freshness of a new account several times now. The TikTok algorithm is a mystical beast, and it often seems as though starting a new account yields better engagement. It’s like a way of curbing algorithm fatigue, or getting away from the strict confinement to a niche when I want to try something new. If any existing fans do find the new account, they cross over with a newfound excitement, a feeling of discovery or ‘I was here first’-ness.

But it’s not just a tool for underground artists to break out. When Skepta recently un-privated his finsta, @mastiempogirl, which contained snaps of mates (including Rihanna), it reminded me a lot of Frank Ocean going public on Instagram all the way back in 2018. It elicited a fervour of excitement despite the lack of any new music or plans, purely from the fan experience of unearthing something ‘private.’

Elsewhere, Drake’s recently been outed as the owner of @plottttwistttttt, a finsta where he drops esoteric moodboard references and unreleased cuts, and Kendrick Lamar’s alt @jojoruski received a spike in attention last year when he used the account to announce his surprise GNX album. While Kendrick rarely grants interviews or shares candid photos on his 19 million-follower main account, the @jojoruski profile proves a sharp contrast to his usual private persona, allowing him to post unbridled fit checks and studio BTS shots. In many ways, these celebrity finstas seem to deliver a degree of creative freedom that can’t be enjoyed on their main accounts.

This leads us to another brand of burner: the alter ego. This is when artists adopt a completely separate identity, to preserve the integrity of the main. Sometimes, it’s just about letting loose for fans. Take Omar Apollo’s Diana Vosh or Role Model’s @saintlaurentcowboy – both are peak unseriousness. The accounts are home to unhinged record-first-think-later videos and inside jokes, like Vosh’s goofy life updates or Role Model’s ‘beef’ with Harry Styles. When I asked Role Model about the account, he refused to break character. “That’s not me. He’s a piece of shit,” he says. “Apparently, people follow him because he’s handsome, but he’s dumb as hell. Like a brick.” Right.

The rabbit hole of celebrity alter ego accounts goes deep. How could anyone forget Lorde’s secret onion ring review account @onionringsworldwide, or Ariana Grande’s piglet’s IG @realpiggysmallz? Neither Lorde nor Ari directly appear on these profiles, but they can still be seen to fulfil a similar purpose of lore-building for fans and creative outlet for artists as the accounts mentioned above.  

Many of these celebrities, of course, have actual secret accounts that are purpose-built for them to live out their social lives privately, but these semi-secret finstas are different. They are a specific lane of artistic output, something that feels less curated and more creative. In many ways, they arrive as a response to the hyper-sanitised social media age. When expectation builds too high for artists and brand partnerships turn a bio into a business, they have to escape pressure and subvert standards somehow. 

For fans, maybe the appeal stems from the candid rawness. It’s the reason why fans love poring over Doechii’s old YouTube videos. At the moment, my FYP is flooded with edits comparing her 2019 webcam rants with her Grammy acceptance speech. It’s like: “we found a real one! Someone unpolished and flawed with bad lighting like us!” (but simultaneously topping charts and gracing red carpets). It’s our same old pursuit of realness in the ultra-curated digital world. And honestly? I’m here for it.