Day 83: Lorde — Melodrama
Melodrama came out in June, but it feels like it’s from multiple lifetimes ago. That speaks to both how interminable our year on geohell has been, but also to the glut of great music that’s come our way.
While I don’t *necessarily* think Lorde’s latest deserves the coveted honor of #1 spot in a year-end list that some have bestowed upon it already, I do believe Melodrama is an elevated and accomplished take on high-profile pop music. Especially when compared to the sort of statement/message albums that peers like Katy Perry and Taylor Swift put out, it’s a cohesive, authentic work, and one could argue that its minor flaws accentuate its worth.
There isn’t a whole lot of big-tent pop music that explores the kind of depths that Melodrama does, or at least not with the same perspective or level of self-awareness. Whirlwind tales of partying (allegedly, the album’s concept hinges on a single wild night) aren’t just cynical shortcuts to associate hearing these songs with a good time like the other top 39 singles might. Instead, that backdrop is as a vehicle to discuss the highs of new love, the rupturing caused by heartbreak, and the ways in which we try to reshape ourselves, making the choice to remember or to forget.
There are certainly elements of her lyrics and storytelling that echo the album title, but for every clumsy line, there’s more than an offsetting amount of vivid images and illuminating metaphors. There’s a dreamlike premonition of a car crash “we’ll end up painted on the road, red and chrome, all the broken glass sparkling,” on “Homemade Dynamite”. Her writing about the struggle for self-acceptance as if it’s a hard to please lover on “Liability” is similarly arresting: ““We slow dance in the living room, but all that a stranger would see Is one girl swaying alone, stroking her cheek.” Those turns of phrase so rich in detail and thematic purpose are exactly what you’d expect from a young writer who sees every kiss as a chance to tell a story.
Jack Anatoff, increasingly the go-to song-whisperer for stars looking to broaden their horizons without losing sight of themselves, has a heavy hand in guiding Lorde from pop-leaning house music sendups to light trap and everywhere in between. The album’s only instrumental fault seems to lie in the fact that Antanoff’s fingerprints are on an increasing percentage of the songs that dominate the airwaves, but it’s hard to blame him for being in demand and imitated. Some of the more disarming moments come in the form of “Liability” and “Writer in the Dark”, two sparse, piano-driven ballads that find Lorde taking the wheel. While it might sound at times like she’s perhaps in over her head as a vocalist, there’s an unmistakably raw honesty that makes it easier to hear her wobbly notes (the chorus of “Writer in the Dark” is a bit off-putting unless you want to pretend that she’s singing while crying) and odd vocal tics as an asset rather than a *puts on sunglasses* liability.
Lorde first rose to public consciousness on a song that rolled its eyes at the vapid materialism of pop music, so it’s only right that her long-gestating second album further resets its boundaries. She’s done an excellent job of molding a more brilliant and bare version of songwriting into conventional forms that music fans of 2017 can easily recognize. Though I ultimately think the total package doesn’t do enough to set itself above everything else, it certainly stands as one of the year’s most important albums.
This is Day 83 in my 100 albums in 100 days series, where I review a new album or EP I haven’t heard in full before every day through December 31st. Check out yesterday’s post or see the full archives for more.
