Lorde returns with a new album firmly rooted in minimalist electro, entitled Virgin. Her previous album, Solar Power (2021), produced alongside Jack Antonoff, featured a collection of acoustic-tinged songs, a sort of seaside folk that did not meet with unanimous approval. This time, she offers us 11 songs created alongside Jim-E Stack (Bon Iver, Caroline Polachek) and Dan Negro, with a refined and minimalist direction. She tackles themes of identity, gender fluidity, romantic disillusionment and transformation. With pop influences from the 2000s, as well as indietronica and even EDM/trance, this new opus redefines the artist’s sound identity. From a sunny, warm and polished atmosphere, we end up in a darker, colder and rawer universe, conducive to a more introspective approach.
“Hammer” sets the tone for the album with its minimalist electro vibe, techno choruses and imagery inspired by 1970s performance art. “What Was That,” follows with trumpet synths and vocal montages culminating in an abrasive chorus, while Lorde sings about the disillusionment inherent in the end of a dream—accompanied by an unadorned video. On “Shapeshifter,” an evolving track with interesting layers of percussion, she looks back on her past phases: “I’ve been the ice, I’ve been the flame / I’ve been the prize, the balls and chains,” while on “Man of the Year,” she shares her thoughts on the fluidity of her gender over a dramatic musical crescendo that remains restrained given the discreet direction.
On “Favourite Daughter,” the original samples blend with the slightly dissonant texture of the guitar to set the stage for this touching piece about his relationship with his mother. “Current Affairs” begins quietly with a guitar-voice duet before evolving into something closer to indie rock, featuring a sample from Dexta Dats (Jamaica). On “Clearblue,” we are treated to a vocoder melody and robotic choir that highlights Jim-E’s contribution in the style of Imogen Heap. “GRWM,” one of the most accessible tracks on the album with its R&B touch, explores questions about adult life, with the industrial beat of the snare drum nicely echoing the punchiness of the lyrics. Next comes “Broken Glass,” dealing with the nightmare of body dysmorphia, and “If She Could See Me Now,” with its multiple percussive layers. Finally, “David” closes the experience, like a bridge between Solar Power and Virgin, where the artist sums up “I don’t belong to anyone,” claiming her unique artistic quest.
Virgin is a refined and minimalist album, built around Lorde’s voice. An album filled with slow progressions, unfolding through its layers. An album that redefines the singer; she negotiates a more introspective poetic shift, even if the themes are sometimes addressed a little superficially. An interesting, unconventional album, although the negative space is so large that it sometimes leads one to wonder what could have filled it. An album like a rich diary that slowly reveals itself, once its uniqueness and complexity have settled. An album that reflects her desire to be free and reclaim her identity. Even if it means breaking away from the previous one.
