“Meet me in the park / Tonight 7pm - x x” read the April 22 text message Lorde sent to her New York City fans the day of the impromptu Washington Square Park concert where she debuted “What Was That” — the lead single off her newest album, “Virgin.”
The artist consistently releases albums in four-year intervals, exiting the limelight between releases. Lorde’s musical evolution began with the minimalist and moody “Pure Heroine” (2013), transitioning to the lush theatricality of “Melodrama” (2017) before embracing the mellow, earthy tones of “Solar Power” (2021). While the first two albums were great commercial successes, “Solar Power” fell short of its predecessors, and fans clamored for a return to the familiar energy they had come to expect.
Her latest album is further proof of her familiarity with the concept of musical rebirth. On the surface, Lorde publicly rejects the pop-star persona and expectations of fame in “Virgin,” although the new album signals a return to synth-pop. It maintains the rawness and intimacy pervasive in Lorde’s discography, but this time with pared-down synths and industrial beats.
“Hammer,” the opening track, is an ode to city life and sexual empowerment. Listeners immediately become intimately familiar with Lorde’s journey towards self-acceptance. Throughout the song, she sings about how she “might have been born again,” setting the tone for the rest of the album’s contemplations on reinvention.
Her lead single and the second song off the album, “What Was That,” achieved virality due to its catchy and upbeat melody. Contrary to “Solar Power,” the song caves to the rigid demands of the pop charts: It’s accessible and grounded in the chaos of growing up.
“Shapeshifter” is uncanny, dreamlike and a perfect blend of the pop formula mixed with Lorde’s resistance to that blueprint. “No, I’m not affected. But tonight, I just wanna fall,” Lorde sings. This line is uniquely vulnerable — a significant feat given the personal nature of her songs. Following the more upbeat song is a mournful tune titled “Man of the Year,” a shuffling, sometimes floppy piece on “ego death” and gender.
The next song, “Favourite Daughter,” functions as both a tribute and a confession with personal lyrics about Lorde’s mother and an intimate look into Lorde’s own desire to seek approval. The lyrics “Breaking my back just so you’ll say I’m a star” and “Panic attack just to be your favourite daughter” vividly convey the emotional toll of that quest.
In both “Favourite Daughter” and “Current Affairs,” Lorde writes about her mother, reflecting on familial relationships. Though neither exactly fit into the album’s stated focus of rebirth and reinvention, the songs both provide context for Lorde’s identity exploration and stand alone as strong, deeply self-exposing tracks.
“Clearblue” and “GRWM” are the weakest tracks on the album. “Clearblue,” a commentary on unprotected sex and a pregnancy scare, warps and filters Lorde’s voice in a way that strips the song of her signature emotional sound. “GRWM” attempts to convey sexual empowerment and confidence, but the lyrics are lost and muddled by the song’s over-production.
But Lorde comes back swinging with a heartbreaking direct narrative on her eating disorder in “Broken Glass.” In the retrospective “If She Could See Me Now,” she sings “In the gym, I’m exorcising / All my demons, make ‘em keep ridin’.” She sings candidly about hopelessness and looking back upon her evolution. For fans who grew up alongside Lorde and her music, this combination of self-awareness and self-acceptance reaches a new level of vulnerability and maturity.
The concluding track, “David,” is written as a cathartic address to an ex. Although she’s unsure about who her partner is, she’s certain about the inevitability and endurance of that confusion — and her music conveys just that. The song ends with vibrating, cinematic beats that drown out her words.
All in all, Lorde’s fourth studio album is a rich exploration of her battle with her identity. Touching on themes of gender, bodily autonomy, sexuality and disordered eating, it’s emotional and messy. The album feels like a collection of bits and pieces, rich with fragments, musings and confusions that mirror the complexity of the topics she tackles.
Despite its undeniable hits, the album often feels like a bomb with a lit fuse that never quite explodes. But this lack of finality may be the point: The work places Lorde one step closer to the freedom she has loudly yearned for since her earliest releases.
