Carly Rae Jepsen grew up on her parents' folk records — Leonard Cohen, Van Morrison — and has said it was their songs that made her want to write in the first place; she calls Cohen "one of the greatest artists of all time." She placed third on Canadian Idol in 2007, then became one of pop's biggest one-song stories when 2012's "Call Me Maybe" turned her into a global phenomenon almost overnight. Rather than chase the formula, she pivoted hard into fizzy, maximalist synth-pop with 2015's E•MO•TION — initially a commercial disappointment that became a critical reappraisal and made her a cult favorite among pop obsessives — and has spent the decade since (Dedicated, The Loneliest Time, The Loveliest Time) treating the disposable three-minute hook as a form worth perfecting.
Jepsen has told this story twice, years apart. Seeing Cyndi Lauper play in Osaka was "a big moment of inspiration," she told Vice/Noisey — "I was blown away by her performance and how lasting her songs were" — and it sparked E•MO•TION's unabashed 80s turn. Writing the album, she and the indie duo Tegan and Sara spent three days trying to reverse-engineer "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun," which she called "the best pop song of all time." "It was a swing and a miss," she admitted to Stereogum — but the failed cover left its fingerprints on the record anyway.
listen forLauper's "Time After Time" carries its ache in plain sight — a simple, unguarded hook doing all the emotional work, no irony to hide behind, the drums and synths kept spare so the voice can do the crying. "Run Away with Me" borrows that directness and turns the volume all the way up: a saxophone fanfare kicks the door open, and the chorus arrives arms-flung-wide, the same heart-on-sleeve nakedness dressed in a bigger, glossier production.
In October 2012, asked which pop artists she admired, Jepsen answered with a list rather than a single confession — "I'm inspired by Robyn, La Roux, Dragonette and Kimbra," she told E! Online, naming Robyn first. That same spring, a Rolling Stone critic heard something more specific already living inside "Call Me Maybe" itself, describing the single as "Taylor Swift meets Robyn" — the sound of dance-floor euphoria wired directly into an anxious, all-in crush.
listen forRobyn's "Dancing on My Own" pairs a four-on-the-floor pulse with a devastated lyric — dancing alone in the corner, watching an ex kiss someone new, refusing to leave the floor. "Call Me Maybe" borrows that same trick at a lighter register: a nervy, all-in confession — "this is crazy," she sings — riding a bright, unstoppable synth pulse that never once lets the anxiety slow the tempo down.
Jepsen's Kate Bush fandom arrived late but hasn't let up. "I really like Kate Bush lately," she told Clash in 2020, singling out "Wuthering Heights" as her favorite: "I just like how emo she gets. She really goes there." The next year she went further, joining producer John Carroll Kirby onstage at a Los Angeles club to actually cover the song live. By 2022, describing "Western Wind"'s video concept, she told its director she wanted something "very Kate Bush, but with, you know… gowns."
listen forBush's "Wuthering Heights" turns its singer into a ghost sweeping across the moors, her voice and body both pitched into full theatrical drama, arms carving shapes in the wind. "Western Wind"'s video reaches for the same wide-open, wind-caught physicality — gowns instead of a Victorian nightgown, but the same pastoral, arms-open swirl Jepsen named outright as her reference, an airier and more literary register than her usual dance-pop directness.