To capture the sound of the 1950s, the creators of a new “Grease” prequel turned to one of the key figures of 2000s pop.
Known for writing hit singles for the likes of Justin Bieber (“Sorry”), Selena Gomez (“Hands to Myself”), DNCE (“Cake by the Ocean”) and Imagine Dragons (“Believer”), Justin Tranter is the executive music producer of “Grease: Rise of the Pink Ladies,” a 10-episode series set to premiere Thursday on Paramount+. The show, which takes place in 1954, depicts the formation of the Rydell High girl gang ruled by Stockard Channing’s Rizzo in the blockbuster 1978 movie starring John Travolta and Olivia Newton-John. Tranter, who identifies as gender-nonconforming and uses they/them pronouns, co-wrote 30 original tunes that trick out the era’s signature styles with modern production touches and clever lyrical asides.
“This was by far the hardest thing I’ve ever done,” said the 42-year-old, who first found an audience as frontperson of the glam-punk band Semi Precious Weapons. Yet Tranter couldn’t resist what they view as the series’ nuanced treatment of gender, race and sexuality. The Grammy-nominated songwriter, whose recent pop credits include songs by Miley Cyrus and Chappell Roan, spoke about “Grease,” TikTok and the state of the music industry at their home in Hancock Park.
Why did you want to get involved in the “Grease” franchise?
There’s a a two-part answer. First, musical theater is the reason I got into music. I was convinced I was Annie and was very upset when I auditioned and got the role of Bert Healy instead. It was a travesty — the gender binary of it all! But the second part of the answer is that I read [creator and showrunner] Annabel Oakes’ script, which struck that perfect balance of feeling important but also like a f—ing blast.
Important in what way?
There’s a song in Episode 2 where the character Jane, who becomes the leader of the Pink Ladies, sings about wanting more. She keeps getting in trouble because she just wants more than a young woman should want. And I relate to that as a queer person. Like, how dare I want more?
Why has “Grease” proven so durable as a piece of intellectual property?
The songs are perfect — especially with the movie, where you have the original songs from the [1971] stage version and then you have the pop songs that Olivia Newton-John’s main writer [John Farrar] wrote. My parents were big rock ’n’ roll fans — we’re pretty sure my brother was conceived at a Fleetwood Mac show — but they weren’t movie musical fans. But the “Grease” songs were such big hits that you couldn’t not hear them.
How was working with musical theater voices as opposed to pop voices?
“Grease” isn’t really about musical theater singing for the most part. I mean, Olivia Newton-John is one of the greatest pop voices of all time, right? I put her in my top three — just the most crystal, magical tone in history. One of the singers we got — Ari Notartomaso, who plays Cynthia — everything we could find online was basically her singing Barbra Streisand covers with a lesbian twist. But I was like, the voice is so good, I don’t care if it’s musical theater. Then we got them in the booth to do “New Cool,” which is our modern flip on “Greased Lightnin’,” and they’re the best rock singer I’ve ever heard.
Thirty songs is a lot. Were you close to running out of gas at any point?
I do lots of things when writing but lyrics are my true passion. And the hardest part of that is figuring out what to talk about. Most pop songs are about four things: falling in love, f—ing, breaking up and what I do with Imagine Dragons, which is just sort of like … vague inspiration. In a musical, what you talk about is all there — it’s plot, it’s character. The only thing to run out of was references so that we weren’t repeating ourselves with the same ’50s nostalgia. Like, you can’t put every song in 6/8.
How does Hollywood compare to the music business?
There’s a lot more money in TV than there is in music, which means there’s a lot more people involved. To get a pop song onto an album or to be a single, the people that have to say yes are the artist, the A&R, the manager and, if they’re a massive artist, then the chairperson of the label. In TV, 43 people have to approve everything. But luckily I love people. And I know this sounds crazy, but I love a Zoom meeting. Let’s talk about it!
In addition to songwriting, you also run a publishing company and a record label. Which of those roles most excites you?
It kind of changes, depending on the day or the week. I’m actually enjoying writing pop songs again. I really needed to focus on “Grease” and a couple other film and TV things I did because … I wasn’t burning out, but I was just like, How many different ways can I figure out how to do those four things that pop songs are about? So I went and did things that were really hard and then came back to pop music and was like, Oh, thank God — I can do this in an hour.
As a songwriter, are you competitive?
Yes. I hate it. I’ve muted almost everyone on Instagram who’s also a songwriter or producer, and I’ve muted every charts account.
Why is it bad for you look at the charts?
Because it doesn’t make my art better. For years and years, I wrote 12 songs a week because of a need for survival after being dropped from four record deals. I was living in a two-bedroom house with six people in West L.A., which is now looking pretty cute but at the time was just this weird street surrounded by a Bed Bath & Beyond. So I had this need to prove that I could make music that the whole world heard. Competition then was helpful — it was motivating. Now that I’m lucky that I don’t have to do that, competition just feels negative.
Are you optimistic about the state of pop music right now?
I think it’s iconic because it’s a f—ing disaster. I don’t mean the music — there’s some great music. SZA is a massive pop star. Like, we have a genius among us. But the business is a disaster. I have label presidents saying to me, “We don’t know how to break artists anymore.” But for young people, it’s so cool. You could literally get yourself a hit song from your bedroom.
What’s an out-of-nowhere hit from the past year or two that excited you?
The song with Ice Spice and Pink Pantheress [“Boy’s a liar Pt. 2”]. If that song had to go through the traditional systems, no way. Or Raye’s “Escapism.” I worked with her years ago, when she was on a label in the U.K. She did everything the label asked, and they dropped her. Then she puts out a song where nothing in the chorus repeats, and it’s a global smash.
Does that threaten you as a professional hitmaker?
I don’t feel threatened. But I’m the outsider of the group. There are a couple of other queer hitmakers, but I still come from a much more alternative space than they do. I’m sure some of the more traditional hitmakers are terrified right now.
Do you worry that TikTok is creating a generation of one-hit wonders? That nobody’s thinking about building a long-term career?
That’s nothing new. Look at the Disney kids. Some of them figured out how to have music careers, some of them didn’t. But they all got record deals. It just feels crazy right now because it’s happening so much faster.
Is pop moving in a good direction in regards to gender and sexuality?
We’re moving in an amazing direction. What Sam Smith has accomplished with “Unholy,” and bringing Kim Petras along on it — if that’s not progress, I don’t know what is. And it’s driving people crazy! Total moral panic, which is so lovely.
Do you find that the industry is becoming more inclusive?
In ways. We always think that Hollywood and the record business are like, “Oh, this is trending — let’s go get more.” But if we really break down the charts and really break down the TV shows getting made and the movies getting made, it’s still always the same thing. Did they make more gay shows after “Will & Grace”? They sure didn’t. Most of my film and TV meetings, it’s: “We can’t sell queer content right now — we lose half the country.” With Kim having a huge hit, we have someone who’s been out in their identity since they started, which is a huge step forward. But I haven’t heard of any other trans girls getting signed on the back of it.