On Lorde’s 2021 album Solar Power, the New Zealand pop star ditched fame. She threw her phone in the sea, sang “if you’re looking for a saviour, well, that’s not me” and advised looking to nature for answers instead. But her sun-bleached third album proved divisive, so much so that just a year later, she placated fans by promising she was making “bangers” again. This April, her comeback single What Was That returned to the incandescent synth-pop of her beloved 2017 album Melodrama; her new album Virgin opens: “It’s a beautiful life so why play truant? / I jerk tears and they pay me to do it.” Lorde was back roaming the streets, swapping Auckland fishing trips for New York Citi Bike rides, addicted to her phone again, playing Glastonbury at 11.30am and then disappearing to get high at Four Tet.
Where Solar Power was introverted, Virgin is hungry for experience and connection, sticky with sweat and other bodily fluids. But it’s also still preoccupied with the cost of finding fame at the age of 16 and how to carry it at age 28. The erratic album has divided critics again: is the sometimes spindly sound and lyrical status anxiety another attempt by Lorde to push listeners away? Or are the intermittent Melodrama 2.0 bangers her giving in to expectation? Ever alert to her own myth, she said recently: “I just am this person who’s meant to make these bangers that fuck us all up.”
