What makes a work of art inherently “queer”? Regardless of its maker or subject matter, the tenor of canonized queer art is almost always that of yearning. From My Own Private Idaho to Moonlight, via The Color Purple and Carol, queer narratives are often underpinned by that specific strain of longing, a tender, aching melodrama that pierces through — and soars above — the brutality that a heteronormative society often sets it against.
As writer Mac Crane succinctly phrased it, however, “it would be a disservice to queerness and our history to reduce it to something as simple as pining for another person. […] Queer yearning embodies so much more: a longing for connection, community, freedom, evidence of our history, safety, and a different, better way of living, one that rejects categories, binaries, and the status quo.”
Jake Schroeder’s latest single “Louvre Me” somehow manages to transcribe this exquisite tension with a sly wink. Known for his news-related limericks — his first taste of virality was thanks to a little ditty on Luigi Mangione — the track was born from another one of those comedic tunes inspired by the 2025 Louvre heist.
Jake Schroeder and the Limits of Social Media Fame for Musicians
Unique, entertaining, and engaging as Schroeder’s gimmick may be, it’s still that: a gimmick, the breadth of his talent curated and spread out in fragments across contents and platforms.
Set to nothing more than staccato piano riffs, the original composition’s real catch was its queer sense of humor (rhyming “Eiffel Tow-ie” with “oui, oui” is a stroke of comedic genius) and arresting tunefulness, bolstered by Schroeder’s agile, supple vocal delivery. Possibly emboldened by the online response, including a rapturous comment by Oscar winner Brie Larson, it was later reworked into a proper pop song: now there are programmed drum beats, synths, and key change, resulting in a solid slice of 2000s-era adult contemporary nugget — think Daniel Powter or Gavin DeGraw, but unabashedly gay. What does remain, however, is not only the song’s sticky hook — “Louvre me / Merci” is ever equally heart-rending and hilarious — but also its heightened sense of longing.
In its studio-recorded incarnation, the song becomes a roman à clef detailing what Schroeder and his objet d’intérêt are up to in a Parisian date gone awry: falling off scooters, ripping sweaters, breaking bones, and eating soggy baguettes, among others. Similar to Lorde’s critically acclaimed “The Louvre,” “Louvre Me” posits the world-famous museum as not as much a site to marvel or an unwavering symbol of great love; rather, it is a silent witness to what fell apart, a monument of what could have been.
Unlike “The Louvre”’s airy fade into into a dance that doesn’t quite happen, “Louvre Me,” true to Schroeder’s social media persona, is capped off fully in tongue-in-cheek mode: he breaks the fourth wall and reiterates to the spectator that he’s been talking about the museum that’s in Paris, “which is in France … The country … Yes, France is a country,” before unleashing a sole “yuh” ad-lib reminiscent of Ariana Grande’s imperial era.
It’s a layered, and frankly speaking brilliant, showcase of Schroeder’s songwriting and storytelling prowess, and should explain why his brand of virality has caught on with both the chronically online and Fox News. Lyrically, “Louvre Me” also reads as a riff on “Having a Coke with You” — the revered Frank O’Hara poem written for his partner Vincent Warren — as filtered through the Gen-Z lens: wide-eyed yet wounded, more sardonic than poetic, but still wearing its heart on its sleeve. (Interestingly, Schroeder’s debut EP was originally to be titled after O’Hara’s famous poem collection.) As it turns out, not all Parisian escapades get to have a rebellious, romantic arc.
Still, despite his viral fame, response to Schroeder’s musical outings has thus far been muted, averaging at around 5,000 monthly listeners on Spotify, standing in stark contrast with a combined following of nearly 700K on TikTok and Instagram.
While there’s no denying Schroeder’s talent and understanding of the algorithm, at times it does leave me wondering: is society, especially Schroeder’s generation, no longer able to elevate talent on its own merit? Unique, entertaining, and engaging as Schroeder’s gimmick may be, it’s still that: a gimmick, the breadth of his talent curated and spread out in fragments across contents and platforms. More to the point: what does it say about even his audience when a catchy pop song about his lived-in experience as a gay man is not gaining the same traction as his social media presence?
Writing Things That Matter: The Double-Edged Sword of Jake Schroeder’s Musical Comedy
In a way, this reminds of how musical comedy and irony contribute to homosexual survival, as astutely laid out in Richard Rodriguez’s seminal essay. As such, the bone-deep presentation of homosexuality becomes less interesting, less worthy of attention let alone adulation. Indonesian writer Rey Aksara similarly echoes this sentiment in his essay, wherein he concludes that gay men “only matter if we project fun, brightness, and liveliness” as the public, in spite of their so-called open-mindedness, neglects how “the word ‘gay’ had endured transformations since the late 19th century and, as it stands now, the rainbow that we cherish in our hearts wouldn’t even exist without decades of resistance.”
As he continues to trudge through the murky waters of social media fame and brand partnerships, I believe in Schroder’s ability to, as per his own aspiration, “write things that matter” and eventually emerge as an artistic force to be reckoned with, flexing and stretching his musical muscles beyond the trappings of the algorithm. Until then, there’s plenty to enjoy his plinky-plonky yearnings for rotisserie chicken and hot dictators.
Listen to “Louvre Me” by Jake Schroeder
“Louvre Me” is available on all streaming platforms, including Spotify. For more Jake Schroeder, visit his TikTok and Instagram.
