Lorde Explores New Realms of Whimsy on ‘Solar Power’

Beachy, bubbly, but still blue, Lorde leaves the emotional rollercoaster of 2017’s Melodrama and rides the waves of a stripped-back, whimsical Solar Power. Jack Antonoff-powered guitars guide the record from start to finish, while Clairo, Phoebe Bridgers, Lawrence Arabia, and Marlon Williams frequent as background vocalists. Sprinkles of a retroesque Wurlitzer electric piano echo on “The Path,” “Fallen Fruit,” and “Secrets from a Girl;” Bobby Hawk operated strings lurk on “Leader of a New Regime” and “Mood Ring.”

Throughout the album, the romantic ideal of a fervent bond with nature takes center stage. Lorde entreats the sun to “show [her] the path” and axes her winter plans in hopes of embracing the sandy sunsets of summer. As if spoken from the lips of an 18th-century romantic herself, Lorde dwells on the “beauty gleaned from desert flowers and gifted children” in the album’s third track, “California.” She emphasizes the naiveté of a child, a stark contrast from the reveries of the teenager who lost 10 years of her youth in “Secrets from a Girl.”

Battling the anxiety induced by the looming climate crisis, “Fallen Fruit” reads as a page ripped from Genesis. “The ones who came before us” have surrendered to the climate-destructing temptations of Nissans, Rolls-Royces, and Boeings, triggering the Edenic fall of man, symbolic of Eve heeding the serpent’s lure to consume the forbidden fruit. Knowing that mankind will have found itself in exile in both scenarios, Lorde laments, “How can I love what I know I’m going to lose? / Don’t make me choose.”

One of the most interesting moments of Solar Power is when Swedish singer-songwriter Robyn appears as a flight attendant on “Secrets from a Girl” in a monologue reminiscent of the happy-go-lucky passenger announcements of Katy Perry’s “International Smile.” In a stirring culmination of the song, the “Strange Airlines” flight attendant proffers, “When you’re ready, I’ll be outside, and we can go look at the sunrise by euphoria, mixed with existential vertigo.” An offhand “cool” rounds off the song, unaware that it just concluded one of the most cleverly formulated songs in Lorde’s discography.

The six-song streak of slam dunks only last so long, however. Last week, describing the creative process of the record, Lorde shared that she rarely writes bridges into her songs anymore. Her reason? Once she arrives at “that point in the song,” she has “got nothing else to say.” Looking at Solar Power, it seems as though once she reached “that point” in the album, she ran into the same impasse. Two-thirds of the way into her record, the four and a ½ minute track lengths of “The Path” and “Stoned at the Nail Salon” suddenly shrink to the 100-second lengths of “Leader of a New Regime” and “Dominoes.”

Nonetheless, Lorde has before proven masterful at meticulously constructing album tracklists that leave the listener yearning for more. The 10 and 11 tracks of Pure Heroine and Melodrama each fulfill their own distinct purpose, avoiding repetition and filler, while Solar Power slightly stumbles in this regard. That is not to say the album fails to convey its intended message; it actually improves from her sophomore effort in telling the unfiltered four-year story of her life between albums. The audience hears Lorde’s post-2017 struggles with fame, climate change, and her dog’s passing. She does it well across 12 tracks — but could have done it better in less.

In a typical Lorde fashion, as soon as the “Strange Airlines” flight meets some turbulence, she steers back on track with the album-closing trio of songs, all of which are standouts. “New Regime” tells the apocalyptic tale of a pop star escaping Earth with relics of her stardom burrowed in her luggage. The sardonic “Mood Ring” describes the desire to feel spiritually connected in a modern world, while Lorde sheds her skin in “Oceanic Feeling,” the album’s nearly seven-minute finale.

But besides all of the romanticism, love and loss, and uninterrupted musings, the hallmark of Solar Power is the pure bliss in Lorde’s voice. On Melodrama, profound sadness penetrates the music — “Liability” explores betrayal and loneliness; “Writer In the Dark” mourns an unreciprocated love. On the other hand, you can hear Lorde beaming during the unrestrained celebrations of life in Solar Power; you can see the twinkle in her eye. She is happy, hopeful, and forward-looking, and it reflects in the music.

Surfing into the sunset, Lorde has indubitably hit most, if not all, of the marks with Solar Power. Her lyricism is multidimensional; the message is mature. While Melodrama looks backward, Solar Power looks forward. Listening to a new Lorde record feels like reliving the past four years — her past four years — of life over 40 minutes. Four years of lessons learned, tables turned, bridges burned. The last laughs, lost loves, lawless lust. When the time comes, what lessons will she teach next?