Lorde - Virgin

There is no limit to reinvention, and Lorde knows that better than anyone. The Lorde we met on ‘Solar Power’ was one who had apparently seen it all, casting an outward glance to the crumbling world around her and retreating from it. Four years later, she has ripped that version of herself to shreds. ‘Virgin’ turns her gaze more inward than ever, whilst simultaneously seeing her throw herself into the thick of the chaotic world, chasing impulses and experiences above all else.

It’s a constantly moving, continually evolving record that feels as though Lorde is working her way through those lessons in real time - they become a means of propelling forwards, reflection and looking inward as a way to reach the next lesson. The raw unfolding of those emotions leaves you reeling right alongside her. Through the cracked-open chronicling of her struggle with an eating disorder on ‘Broken Glass’, to the complexities of her relationship with her mother on ‘Favourite Daughter’, every step of the way, those feelings are displayed with blazing vividity.

There’s something skittish about it at times, in part due to the shuffling, skittery beats, and in part due to the way each lyrical confession seems to tumble out in an uncontrollable rush. It’s those moments that intensify the feeling of immediacy in the album - it’s a compulsive need to share, to find some understanding and perspective on everything she’s gone through.

Elsewhere, however, there are moments of pure meditation and contemplation, sitting with these feelings, no matter how uncomfortable they may be. ‘GRWM’ ripples with surety, embracing the woman she has grown to be to a simple backdrop of a drum pattern and little else. Even whilst hurtling forwards at full speed, she is always in conversation with every version of herself - literally, on ‘Current Affairs’. ‘If She Could See Me Now’ sees her enlightened in an entirely different way to ‘Solar Power’, brimming with the clarity of time and hindsight and doing her best to reconcile the hurt she has felt with the version of herself she has become.

It isn’t always as conclusive, but that’s equally as reflective of this stage Lorde finds herself in, where there is beauty to be found in diving headfirst into the mess. ‘Shapeshifter’ is a highlight because of this - it questions seeking validation and changing with each new presence, but feels more akin to a vent than anything. Its textured, almost garage-esque beats paired with the strings building around the bridge make it more than just an anthem for the avoidant, but a standout in her discography.

Album closer ‘David’ is a poignant note to end on, with its refrain of “I don’t belong to anyone” suddenly bringing each song prior to it into a new light. ‘David’ is a moment of shimmering vulnerability, her vocals at their most unrefined and real - the realisation it brings is undoubtedly one that will carry her to her next record, and one that the entire journey of ‘Virgin’ has seen her running desperately towards. She is not defined by any of the moments she recalls on ‘Virgin’, but rather, what they have taught her - Lorde holds the tools to reinvent herself again, and with every excavation she makes, she discovers new ways to grow.