Demi Lovato performs onstage during the 37th Annual GLAAD Media Awards at The Beverly Hilton on March 5, in Beverly Hills, Calif.Matt Winkelmeyer/Getty Images
Aside from the housing crisis, a rapidly warming planet and a geopolitical landscape that could, at any moment, erupt into chaos, it’s a good time to be a zillennial.
In recent months, the former Disney Channel stars who defined tweenage pop culture in the 2000s have feasted on my generation’s propensity for nostalgic ennui. Artists such as the Jonas Brothers, Miley Cyrus and Hilary Duff have churned out tours, albums and TV specials celebrating their earliest work – the teen-pop shows that earned them Walmart endorsement deals and multimillion-dollar recording contracts. (Never mind those artists’ more recent creative endeavours, which in almost every instance have underperformed compared with their Disney-era counterparts.)
But over the past decade, cracks have emerged in the Disney machine. The starlets of the oughts, on cereal boxes and multipacks of socks, have struggled publicly with addictions and eating disorders; the sidekicks on after-school sitcoms have been charged with DUIs. Even the Disney talents who broke into mainstream pop relatively unscathed – Sabrina Carpenter and Olivia Rodrigo, mostly – carry the mark of a former child star who could, at any moment, become a glib headline on TMZ.
Enter Demi Lovato, currently promoting her dance-pop album It’s Not That Deep with an uneven, yet despite itself infectious tour that haphazardly balances electronic dance music (EDM) with the self-love anthems of her youth.
Miley Cyrus returns to her Hannah Montana roots for 20th anniversary special
Though Lovato first broke into the entertainment industry with a role on Barney & Friends in 2002, she became a household name – assuming said house contained an eight-to-10-year-old – in 2008, with Camp Rock, a Disney Channel original movie about a young girl named Mitchie with dreams of becoming a rock star.
Lovato’s impact was instant. Vocally, she outshined her contemporaries – her piercing high belt was self-assured and bright, and the bottom end of her voice carried a huskiness well beyond her years. Acting-wise, she was okay – smiley, mostly, with sparkly eyes that occasionally telegraphed an underlying mania – but it was clear she had the makings of a bona fide musician. Even her early albums, Don’t Forget and Here We Go Again, were surprisingly sophisticated and confessional, with frequent allusions to the singer’s least Disney-friendly demons.
A lot has happened since Camp Rock.
Lovato’s been to rehab for self-harm, body image and addiction issues; in 2018, she overdosed and nearly died. Musically, she’s had a few hits – Sorry Not Sorry, Cool for the Summer and Heart Attack, for instance – and on the side, she’s pumped out a string of glossy documentaries about her mental health. (In each film about getting sober, she’s shared that she lied the last time she said she was off drugs, and has insisted that this time, she means it.)
On Monday, Lovato brought the It’s Not That Deep tour to Toronto, which she initially addressed as Orlando before swearing and correcting herself. And while fans in the crowd seemed happy, dressed in a mosaic of sexy black mesh and cheeky throwback T-shirts, I found myself wondering why, exactly, Lovato had chosen to headline the 19,800-seat Scotiabank Arena, and not a more intimate venue better suited to her act.
Indeed, the venue size problem is substantial. In Toronto, her last tour, in support of 2022’s Holy Fvck, played at History, which has a capacity of 2,500 people. While Lovato has played large arenas in the past – even Scotiabank in 2018 – her recent music hasn’t broken into the mainstream zeitgeist like her old stuff. (Her opener, Adéla, is arguably the bigger name at this point.)
As such, Scotiabank feels like a stretch – and smaller stages such as History, the Coca-Cola Coliseum or even the RBC Amphitheatre feel like missed opportunities. At Scotiabank, pyrotechnics and confetti were replaced with digital videos of those special effects – a cost-cutting measure, to be sure – and while Toronto’s audience was reasonably large, it’s worth noting that Lovato excised five dates from the tour’s original schedule, claiming a need for more rest between shows. (Eagle-eyed fans, however, noted that the cancelled performances had sold poorly before their removal from the tour.)
On Monday, Lovato opened with three wub-wub tracks from It’s Not That Deep – Fast, Kiss and Frequency – before giving into fans’ wishes to hear older hits such as Confident, Skyscraper and Give Your Heart a Break.
While Lovato has been through a lot – and she’s told her fans about most of it through her music and films – in a way, seeing her sing live in 2026 feels much the way it might have in 2010. Her voice, despite years of abuse, is glorious, and just as striking as it was when she made her Disney debut nearly two decades ago.
Lovato performs at the GLAAD Media Awards on March 5.Matt Winkelmeyer/Getty Images
On the other hand, her banter with the crowd in Toronto felt rather stiff, as if filtered through years of Disney’s media training. I cringed, too, when Lovato asked fans to wave their flashlights to the ballad Ghost, which she sang very well but which fans undoubtedly would have raised their phones to without being asked. In that vein, much of the It’s Not That Deep tour feels a bit forced, almost like a pastiche of Charli XCX’s Brat tour, but with less to say through its artistry.
For her surprise song – a gimmick plenty of artists have sewn into their acts since Taylor Swift’s Eras Tour, which famously featured a surprise acoustic interlude – Lovato called on a fan to pick a random album from a hat, visualized by a photo of an outfit from that period in her life. The lucky listener picked Lovato’s sophomore record Here We Go Again, and Lovato sang Catch Me, appeasing a great many inner 12-year-olds in the crowd. (That said, I’m skeptical that the “surprise” was particularly surprising to Lovato – she jumped right into the deep cut without missing a beat, making me wonder just how much luck was actually at play in the fan interaction. But despite my doubts, she made the moment special.)
All things considered, the It’s Not That Deep tour could be worse. But it could also be more thoughtful, both on and off the stage: The merch stands in Toronto, for instance, didn’t carry several items in any size larger than a medium, a stinging oversight for an artist so outspoken about body positivity and diet culture. The choreography could be more specific; Lovato could accompany herself on guitar and piano, confirming beyond dispute that she sings live. (During a few songs, particularly Really Don’t Care, I wasn’t so sure – the lead vocal line continued over the arena’s booming speakers even when Lovato stopped singing to point her mic toward the crowd.)
Then again, Lovato nailed Stone Cold, her famously hard-to-sing, wide-ranging ballad. She and her dancers had intoxicating chemistry as a group. Her solo moments, featuring just her and a mic stand on an otherwise bare stage, were powerful and intimate.
Oh well. As Lovato reminded us on Monday: All she wants to do is sing, and have a good time with the people she loves, even the fans who’ve clung to nostalgia over elegant artistic growth. In the end, maybe it’s just not that deep.