Lorde’s highly anticipated senior studio album “Virgin” released June 27, nearly four years after her previous album. Living up to the title, she revisits experiences through a perspective that makes it feel as though the listener is growing up with her. With over 11.3 million streams across seven charting tracks on Spotify in just the first 24 hours, “Virgin” peaked at No. 2 on the Billboard 200.
Throughout “Virgin,” Lorde details her metaphorical “rebirth,” exploring gender identity, familial trauma and sexual desire, and soul-searching to reach a point where she is “ready to feel like I don’t have the answers,” per her lyrics on the opening track. As she puts it in her Instagram bio: “The themes are always the same — a return to innocence — the mysteries of the blood — an itch for the transcendental.”
The 12-track album takes the listener through a fragmented memoir emphasized by its raw and vulnerable tone. The album’s structure lends itself to the non-linear, ongoing nature of healing.
Lorde departs from the laid-back acoustics of her last album “Solar Power,” returning to heavy bass, synths, remixed samples and clear vocals — only now, it’s much more stripped compared to her previous works “Melodrama” and “Pure Heroine.”
“Hammer,” the opening track, begins with a droning vocal sample, a stark contrast to many of her previous album intros. The song transforms into a spacey pop anthem reminiscent of a combination of her first two albums. With this vocal-forward production comes increased emphasis on her lyrical craft.
While hundreds of thousands of videos have regularly been made on TikTok using songs from the album, many miss the underlying depth of the singer’s lyrics. The most popular trend uses the second single off the album, “Man Of The Year,” where people “expose” men for outrageous things they have said or done while the song plays in the background: “Let’s hear it for the man of the year.”
The song, however, explores gender fluidity. The single cover pictures her torso with her breasts covered in duct tape, a nod to the practice commonly referred to as binding. “Suffocating” herself in the tape, Lorde alludes to the struggles and fear that come with returning to her most vulnerable, innocent self — her true identity.
Lorde also explores her sexual and emotional relationships — particularly the disconnect between the two. In the track “Shapeshifter,” she uses her classic “sing-talk” and breathy delivery paired with heavy vocal layering. She reveals a conflicting version of authenticity where she is physically visible, desired, touched and lusted after, yet still emotionally misunderstood.
The album goes further into Lorde’s past, delving into generational trauma. “Favorite Daughter” tells the story of the pressure she felt from her parents growing up. It feels somewhat reminiscent of “Green Light,” the opening track on her sophomore album “Melodrama,” consisting of an upbeat backtrack coupled with emotionally complex but catchy lyrics. Lorde grapples with the effects of inherited expectations, making her question whether her accomplishments were for herself or for her parents: “‘Cause I’m an actress, all of the medals I won for ya / Panic attack just to be your favorite daughter.”
Track seven, “Clearblue,” details her recognition of the “broken blood” that “passed through my mother from her mother down to me.” The a cappella arrangement paired with a vocoder makes it seem like an interlude on the surface, a record one may not revisit unless listening to the album top-to-bottom. While short, the song provides listeners with the chance to see her apprehensive yearning. Has she resolved this trauma? Would she be able to change into a maternal figure? Would she make the same mistakes her mother did?
Finishing off her record is the gut-wrenching “David.” Cogitating on her intimate relationship and people-pleasing tendencies, she discovers that she doesn’t “belong to anyone,” reclaiming her innocence. The song builds similarly to how “Man Of The Year” does, beginning with only one instrument and her voice, then slowly progressing to a peak full of distortion. This climax resolves abruptly and she ends the album with a refrain: “Am I ever gon’ love again?” It seemingly questions the positive “everything will work out” perspective she had in her previous album “Solar Power.” Rather than looking for a simple answer, she explores the deeper meaning of the human experience.
Lorde revisits her past from a new perspective: acceptance. She emphasizes accepting that things don’t always pan out, that you can always start over, that we seek out an explanation where none can be offered. “Virgin” is Lorde’s return, but there is no conclusion — there cannot be one, which captures the true essence of her work. The most profound growth comes not from demanding answers, but from accepting uncertainty.
