Lorde’s ‘Virgin’ Album: Reviewing a Pop Star’s Human Evolution
Released four years after the divisive Solar Power, Lorde’s fourth studio album, ‘Virgin,’ marks a profound shift for the acclaimed artist. Where her early work radiated a perception of steely self-possession, this new record reveals a more vulnerable, searching Lorde – one who openly admits she doesn’t “have the answers.” It’s a striking contrast to the seemingly fully-formed persona she presented as a teenager on Pure Heroine or the confident, almost combative stance on Melodrama. ‘Virgin’ arrives as a notable release, described as a “humanizing album” by a pop star navigating her late twenties and embracing imperfection.
Since her debut in 2013, Lorde has undergone a significant evolution in the public eye. The then-16-year-old was lauded for a maturity that belied her age, offering intellectual, “suburban gothic” critiques in songs like “Royals.” This unwavering confidence fueled the pop transformation of her sophomore album, Melodrama, where she wielded her pen with sharp precision. Breakups and industry pressures couldn’t seem to rattle the early Lorde.
The Cracks Appear: Navigating Late Twenties and Public Life
Now 28, the Lorde of ‘Virgin’ is visibly less assured, and she acknowledges this from the outset on the album’s ecstatic opener, “Hammer,” singing, “I’m ready to feel like I don’t have the answers.” This shift is attributed partly to the reception of Solar Power, a high-concept release that felt somewhat over-moodboarded and muddled despite its attempt at an evolutionary swerve.
More deeply, ‘Virgin’ finds Lorde grappling with the complexities of her late twenties. She explores her gender expression, proclaiming, “Some days I’m a woman, some days I’m a man.” She is also processing the aftermath of a nearly decade-long relationship and the inherent strangeness of growing up under constant scrutiny. Candid moments, like a revealing verse shared last year on a Charli XCX remix where she spoke of being “at war with her body” and avoiding public appearances, underscore the insecurities that surface on ‘Virgin.’ The album confronts these discomforts, resulting in a raw, humanizing body of work from an artist who, perhaps for the first time, isn’t pretending to have everything figured out.
Sound and Themes: A Return, A Departure
Serving in part as a course correction from Solar Power, ‘Virgin’ revisits the bass-heavy, mid-2010s sound reminiscent of Melodrama, lending the songs an eerie time-traveling quality, though it generally lacks that album’s explosive energy. Working without her long-time collaborator Jack Antonoff, Lorde’s songwriting here feels more fragmented and ambiguous. She sifts through memories of romantic, sexual, and professional entanglements that have molded her, singing on “Man of the Year” of becoming “someone else — someone more like myself.”
Themes less prevalent in her previous work, like drugs and sex, permeate ‘Virgin.’ Lyrical visions include complex relationship dynamics and moments as intimate as taking a pregnancy test on the track “Clearblue.” The overarching question posed by the lead single, “What was that?”—delivered with palpable exasperation—fuels the album’s introspective journey.
Engaging with the Audience and Industry
Lorde has often navigated her relationship with her audience and the music industry with careful distance. While on Solar Power she lightheartedly declared she wasn’t their savior, ‘Virgin’ finds her more pointedly aware of her listeners’ expectations and her own place on a pedestal. On the standout track “Shapeshifter,” she sings with dramatic tension, addressing past lovers but perhaps also her fanbase: “I’ve been up on the pedestal, but tonight I just want to fall.”
Tracks like the salty ’80s synth-pop “If She Could See Me Now” reveal a desire to retreat from the industry’s demands (“as for me, I’m going back to the clay”). However, the pressure isn’t solely external. “Favourite Daughter,” dedicated to her mother, features a beat echoing Pure Heroine‘s “Team,” casting back to her adolescence and the internal drive to be seen as a star (“breaking my back just hoping you’ll say I’m a star”).
Hits and Misses on a Soulful Journey
While ‘Virgin’ showcases Lorde flexing her ability to craft potent pop moments, particularly on tracks like “Hammer” and “Shapeshifter,” its experimental streak doesn’t always land smoothly. The album’s near-perfect first half highlights the unevenness of its second. Tracks like “GRWM,” with its seemingly setup insight resolving into “a grown woman in a baby tee,” suffer from a touch of Solar Power‘s confusing instincts. The dark, opaque closer “David” ends the album on a somewhat subdued note.
Yet, the album features powerful explorations, such as “Broken Glass.” Set to an aerobic, minimalist beat reminiscent of producer A.G. Cook’s work, the song delves into the “addictive arithmetic of an eating disorder” before staging a raw intervention in its chorus: “I wanna punch the mirror… It might be months of bad luck, but what if it’s just broken glass?”
Musically, ‘Virgin’ leans towards the breathier, layered vocal treatments found on Solar Power rather than the full-throated delivery of Melodrama, contributing to its overall subdued feel. The chosen production style for the lead single “What Was That?” and many subsequent tracks feels less saturated than expected, perhaps dialing down the potential dramatic tension.
A Late-Twenties Coming-of-Age
Ultimately, ‘Virgin’ feels like a coming-of-age album for Lorde’s late twenties, built on the realization that growing up is a messy, lifelong process where the sense of self remains vulnerable to unraveling. Revelations on the album—about femininity, physical strength, or navigating ego death—are delivered with adult hindsight, lacking the grenade-like impact they might have held for a younger Lorde experiencing them for the first time.
In its embrace of tempered creative impulses and newfound vulnerability, ‘Virgin’ joins a conversation with other recent albums by established women artists finding forms of rebirth by leaning into discomfort or stepping back from previous modes. As familiar as some musical elements might initially sound, the Lorde presented on this album is new. Her willingness to be broken open, as she sings on “Man of the Year,” marks a significant and compelling evolution. The old Lorde might never have shown the break; the Lorde of ‘Virgin’ invites us to witness it.
