Misrepresented in a viral TikTok trend and salvaged by a Glastonbury Festival performance, the latest Lorde rollout has been a tough one. Two singles which felt tame compared to what came before. Not just on the staggering Pure Heroine debut but on Melodrama and Solar Power too. All three are of great qualities because they present where Lorde is in her life. Irrespective of the quality of each, there is an honesty present which is what carries Virgin further. Watching Lorde’s Glastonbury performance after a night of winning enough at the casino to pay off a holiday was quite the treat. Perhaps it was the cashout which inspired this overwhelming emotional experience, or maybe it was the euphoria of hearing this new album from Lorde. Likely both. But Virgin also has its charms. The monotone choices made on Virgin feel like a stand against a reactive and emotive world. It’s a bold choice, and one which works in Lorde’s favour.
That stripped-back sound heard on the two singles and opening track Hammer works best when heard as a whole project. Novel it may be to remind people to listen to an album in full, but both What Was That and Man of the Year work far better when backed by the album track pieces. That desire to hammer away problems, the contrast with feeling passive between Hammer and What Was That, is essential. Dramatic phrasing and vocal inflexions are more important than anything else for Virgin. Lorde is a strong enough cultural phenomenon for some people that her presence and words will carry the album. It’s finding metaphors and analogies for life and the remarkable stains a relationship leaves that work best for Lorde. Not just relationships with others, that much is crucial. Much of Virgin is a reckoning with self-perception, with how a person comes to terms with their skills and shortcomings. Connecting with that is crucial beyond listening to Virgin.
Through the sparse sound, you can hear Lorde offer some very best lyrics. Man of the Year offers a high point not because it relates to a specific man but because it forms a reactive momentum, cut all too short by another shot of hope on Favourite Daughter. There is a brilliance to the shortness of each song, the sparseness complimenting the surprisingly tight runtime. In isolation, these songs feel as though they are not fleshed out enough, but the story Lorde forms across the latter half of the album is magnificent. Virgin works because a sense of adventure, a tease of wonder for the future, is brought into play. It’s an album keen to kindle a sincere, fresh start in a culture built on temporary detoxification from social media and the hang-ups of the modern world. Clearblue is an incredible example of this. Freedom of the self from expectations and experience is a choice.
Overused the word may be, but this is a new era for Lorde. It’s a chance to let go of past hangups and moments where momentum has been lost. Virgin is not magnificent, but the presence it brings with its sparse instrumentals, often absent, is incredible. It’s a daring moment which redefines Lorde. What is the question listeners must answer for themselves. There’s a satisfying openness to the likes of GRWM and If She Could See Me Now. A chance to live in defiance of the past and of previous interpretations. Closer David is as clear a showing of this new era for Lorde. Vocals only, putting the pressure of an audience and their expectations out of mind to deliver a satisfying end to an album which, over time, will define Lorde and the creative process just as much as Pure Heroine did.
