Solar Power: Lorde is done being our go-to sad girl

Adam Fiertl reviews.

Lorde’s latest release is something of its own. Gone are the broody lyrics of teenage angst in Pure Heroine, and the sweeping, grandiose synths of Melodrama. Solar Power, with its dizzying acoustics, playful snares, and lyrics laced with warmth, flirt and sunburnt cheeks stands proudly in a realm of its own.

 Ella Marija Lani Yelich-O'Connor, better known by her stage name Lorde, struggles with the sensations and mysticisms of being a pop sensation. Unlike her celebrity counterparts, Lorde has forced herself to reject the romantics of being a pop star, choosing instead to retreat to her family and friends in New Zealand between albums. She describes this metamorphosis in an interview with Apple Music as ‘spiritually cleansing,’ the shedding of her ‘crystal skin’ providing a much needed disconnect away from the blinding lights of stardom. Solar Power, Lorde’s third studio album, is a cathartic result of this solemnity, of letting go, embracing nature and yearning to live life to its effervescent fullest.  

 Lorde is fully aware of the iron grip she has on the emotionally jaded generation of teens that grew up alongside her earlier music. Within the reverent opening track, The Path, however, she preaches coolly that she, like us, is flawed, grounded, and we must instead rely on the immutable power of nature and its ties to self to truly feel – ‘if you’re looking for a saviour well that’s not me.’ Her melodic faith that the ‘sun will show us the path’ invites listeners to her psychedelic praising of the natural world. All culminating over breezes of late 90’s kickdrums and acoustics, The Path makes for a magnificent opener.

 Mood Ring, the most typical ‘pop’ song of the album, satirises wellness culture and, over early 2000’s Nelly-infused melodies, critiques the ignorance in searching for spiritual meaning through illusionary escapes. Burning sage, cleansing crystals, and saluting the sun are all rituals that we use to pull ourselves from the undertow. However, Lorde admits that even she cannot separate herself from these practices and her longing to break free from this illusive pseudo-wellness world produces an unmatched eclectic electricity. Mood Ring sees Lorde’s signature layered harmonies drive the melodies to incredible highs. Her bubbly fluttering of ‘floating away, floating away’ mirrors the pulsing of waves and the satirical content of the lyrics mingle tantalisingly to create an exceptionally danceable, zesty tune.

 Despite its glittery front, the album is deceptively melancholic. In Big Star, Lorde sings a touching tribute to her recently passed dog Pearl. Pearl’s barks and howls have been thoughtfully scattered between the cicadas and sounds of rolling waves of the album. In this track she reflects on her past as someone who ‘used to love the party’ and how, in retrospect, none of that matters when you are surrounded by the ones you love.

 Similarly, on The Man with the Axe, the Kiwi singer reminisces in the melancholy of meeting her mysterious, older man and likens him to ‘a man with a plan’. Suspended in an epiphany, she sings of her current lover, a man who has supposedly decayed everything she thought she once was – someone who would simply ‘put on a suit and take it away.’ Here, over sun-bleached, echoed strums swelling like breezes by a campfire, she thanks her partner who has humbled her deeply, taught her how to reject the temptations of Hollywood and loved her into a new woman.

 Lorde continues to shun the allure of celebrity eminence in tracks such as Oceanic Feeling, the sultry album closer, as well as California, a dreamy beachside tune. By personifying California as a ‘golden body’ which shot ‘poisoned arrows directly aimed at [her] head,’ the Kiwi singer yearns for a place away from the hypnotic enamour of Hollywood stardom. I couldn’t help but simply fall into a trance by the time the zesty outro wove in. California evokes the feeling padding across your partner’s bedroom floorboards - sun-kissed, showered and legs intertwined before dinner is called from a floor below. Simple in its intent but utterly gorgeous as a product.

 The album touches too on our deep relationship with nature and our responsibility to nurture it. Through haunting harmonies and dramatic shifts in tonal splendour, Fallen Fruit paints the picture of a medieval call to arms. Likening fallen fruit in ‘halls of splendour where all the apple trees grew’ to the aftermath of our past generations’ irreversible damage to the planet creates an artistic dreamscape that one cannot help but get completely lost in. Here, Lorde rallies her troops and submits herself to the immovable power of nature, worrying for our future. ‘How can [we] love what we know we are going to lose?’ she flutters in harmonies creeping and weaving through each other like weeds.

Lorde’s Solar Power sets out to prove she’s more than just a one trick pony, but we may soon see that many fans who’d bet on that pony to deliver another album of deeply jaded heartbreak may find themselves shocked, even disappointed by the immense tonal shift of the album. However, her placement of lively music against divinely woeful lyrics provides instead a stunning mockery of our celebration of a dying word.

Lorde finally found her Perfect Place and it seems to be the zany, cicada-drenched beaches of the New Zealand summer: a feeling so visceral throughout this album that one cannot help but want to drown in the oceans of the endless summer that is Solar Power.

Pulp Editors