When a sixteen-year-old releases a debut album that people all over the world cite as “the soundtrack to their teenage years” and follows up with another that is hailed by many as a masterpiece, the release of a pivotal third album is big news. On August 20, Lorde’s junior album, Solar Power, was released after a four-year hiatus. During that time, she had been virtually untraceable, seen only in parkas with Antarctic backdrops. Naturally, this created immense buzz from a horde of teenagers (and those who have since outgrown their teenage years) who have connected with Lorde’s signature icy pop beats and meandering lyrics about the frailty of youth.
There are big questions that arise when new albums are released from such powerhouses: Is their new album better than their others? Is it worse? Do they still have that magic in them?
Like many, I have long considered Lorde to be a seer into my teenage brain. But when I first heard Solar Power, I was sure the magic that had resonated so deeply within me when listening to Pure Heroine and Melodrama had been broken. It felt so far away, less like that sort of freaky “this could have been written just for me” moment and more like complete fiction. It felt superficial, which is the last word I would have used to describe Lorde’s discography.
I have listened to Solar Power in its entirety around ten times now. Around the fifth listen, I thought maybe I had figured out a way to brainwash myself into enjoying the album, simply because of the name attached to it. By the tenth time, I was sure Lorde had done it again and created a masterpiece.
I’ll be honest, I don’t like the title track. I think it’s fun and kitschy, nice for a summer drive or a group of friends on the beach, but it’s a bit of a skip for me. I’ve called it Lorde’s “Watermelon Sugar” (which apparently is a controversial statement). I think it took me a couple listens to get past this and into some of the real gems I believe exist on Solar Power.
“Mood Ring,” for example, is beautiful and emphatic, a twenty-first century anthem for the constant uncertainty that comes with new adulthood, and ways of coping.
“Secrets from a Girl (Who’s Seen it All)” is full of that iconic Lorde nostalgia, as she brings back those universal feelings of time going all too quickly to a tune that feels fitting for an early 2000s film soundtrack, complete with an otherworldly flight attendant announcement.
The balmy vibrations of the album act as a curtain to this overarching calm, bordering on apathy, that lies at the root of Solar Power. Although I agree that the album as a whole is not as angsty or brooding as her previous works—which I think has a lot to do with my dislike for it—there is still a lot of reminiscence and pain in this album. There is a lot of reflection, which is fitting for an artist who is so focused on the experiences of coming of age. In songs such as “Stoned at the Nail Salon,” “Oceanic Feeling,” and “The Path,” Lorde now sings of someone who has come of age, and who is not actually sure what to do next.
Here is the thing: I love Solar Power, but not all Lorde fans will. I do not think this makes it a bad album. I will never have anything that will make me feel as seen in my brooding high school years as “White Teeth Teens” or “Ribs,” but that does not mean I cannot love Solar Power as an entirely different entity. To me, Solar Power is a perfect concoction of sunshine and nostalgia to fuel mid-morning walks through busy parks or a playlist for Sunday cleaning—moments that may be hopeful and happy.
A lyric from Solar Power that really struck me on my first listen was the promise in “Stoned at the Nail Salon” that “all of the music you loved at sixteen, you’ll grow out of.” Maybe this is because Lorde is the music I loved when I was sixteen. This prompted me to think: had I outgrown the suburban boredom of Lorde’s earlier works? Was Solar Power, with its sunny disposition and admission into adulthood, who I am now?
I think I’m less interested in whether or not Solar Power is worse than Lorde’s previous albums, and more about why it can be so unsettling to grow with, and even apart from, your favourite artists. Besides, if you’re looking for sad girl pop, there’s always Lana Del Rey: the reigning queen of mellow music for despairing girls.
A question that has been asked again and again is “do artists need to be sad to make good art?” I am of the opinion that even if that were true, artists do not owe it to us to sacrifice their own happiness for our entertainment. Even if some of the lighter tones of Solar Power don’t strike as hard as the somberness of “Biting Down” or “Liability,” that does not mean there isn’t a different sort of beauty to the happiness that radiates from tracks off Solar Power. I am tired of the notion that things need to be sad to be beautiful. There is beauty and power in happiness.
I can still go back to Pure Heroine and Melodrama and remember how it felt to be sixteen in the suburbs, listening to Lorde on the bus, feeling so wholly understood by another teenage girl half a world away. Those songs will always be there for those of us who felt that connection. Solar Power offers us a whole new stage of life, another set of feelings that come with finding happiness, being equal parts confused and mesmerized by the strangeness of finding yourself at the doors of adulthood. As Lorde changes as an artist and as a woman, I believe it is our privilege to follow along with her on an entirely new journey.
