Over the course of two months, I would visit the shrinking music section at Target and stand there with the same dilemma. Alongside the columns of Taylor Swift rereleases was this comparatively punk rock cover of a woman’s X-Rayed pelvis. When I wasn’t here, I had been reading about the greater meaning behind this picture as symbolizing transparency, how the foggy white substance was “an unclean colon.” It was grotesque, yet also beautifully poetic and human in ways that the more manufactured covers could never be. There were rumors that to crack open the jewel case was to see its artist in a more compromised state. Every time, I’d find myself gravitating towards it for a few seconds, wondering if today I would pick it up to place alongside other records that sit on my shelf as wall art.
And yet, it never happened. I never found a good enough excuse to place Lorde’s “Virgin” alongside my row of Lana Del Rey and Billie Eilish hits. Even so, my initial listen would fall in the same camp as “Hit Me Hard And Soft.” I could appreciate the artistry, yet it wasn’t hitting me on the visceral level that all great records do. Optimistically, I hoped that the 2025 record would follow a similar path and, with several listens, would help me see the vision. Could it follow the journey of Eilish, who, by the time she was performing for California Wildfire benefits, had made me feel every note to the point I could happily sway along?
I mean, this is Lorde we’re talking about. A singer currently on track to be an irrefutable icon of her generation. I will even go to bat for her much-maligned “Solar Power,” which I choose to argue received such bad marks that it turned her off doing as jarring of an ambitious detour. After a few listens, I was disappointed I never could talk myself into buying something so radical, that felt at times like it was borrowing from producers like A.G. Cook and delivering the most succinct self-examination I’ve heard this year. Even if I liked Lucy Dacus or Little Simz more, “Virgin” was uncompromised, from somebody who had the platform to really radicalize her audience. There was urgency that shone through every line. To have it done in a half-hour is all the more impressive and speaks to her talent.
So, baby… what was that?
“Virgin” was not my most-played record. My visits to Spotify were not dissimilar from the Target trips. It could be that my voracious curiosity kept me from revisiting albums as much, but even so, I was spinning Samia’s “Bloodless” at least three times a month. I kept revisiting The Weeknd’s recent trilogy with the impulsivity of a slot machine. For a record this dense, there were more hours I thought about wanting to revisit it than actually doing so. I went through the typical excuses, including how it was “disappointing” or “overrated.” And yet, in listening to it for this essay, I come away with the same opinion I had on the day of its release. It's great, but she’s put out three albums I like better. By this point with Eilish, I could at least call “Birds of a Feather” a searing masterpiece. None of the songs have that stickiness yet, which is odd given who we’re talking about. If anything, it felt anti-structure, favoring an implosive rebuild of what a Lorde album should be.
I find this weird because, even in the echelon of contemporary soul-bearing records, it captures a perspective that is sorely lacking in 2025. Even if my Top 10 for 2025 reflects a lot of artists doing sincere, creative feats worth celebrating, I’m not sure any have the neurotic social life of a Lorde song, so willing to contemplate their own flaws and grow from them. More than that, her comments about gender, where she’s a woman “except for the days when I’m a man,” reflect a spectrum conversation not had by many with 26 million monthly listeners. Unlike other pop stars, I’m choosing to buy the indecisiveness as genuine, and it really comes through in the lyricism challenging norms without being a boring blanket statement. It’s the type of gamble I favor because even if she fails, Lorde will at least have done so with her ethics fully in place.
From an American standpoint, there’s not a lot of support for authentic expression right now. This was one of the worst years for LGBTQIA+ rights in a long time. Even if the rebellion to Pride Month wasn’t as overtly hostile as it was in 2023 or 2024, there was a noticeable conservative bias. Target sold beige shirts with miniature rainbows. Heterosexual Awesomeness Parades, while poorly attended, promoted suppression. Government websites removed queer history from monuments like Stonewall. They’re passing bans on healthcare for gender affirming care at an alarming rate. America is also currently eulogizing a commentator who was seen as a free speech warrior who hid behind civil discourse despite preaching oppressive values to the point he’d probably mock your death if he could. The wrong people are rewriting American history at the moment, and it’s at risk of doing serious damage to those who didn’t know any better.
It’s foolish to think that Lorde could ever be the hero pop culture needed. For one, she’s a New Zealander and has no responsibility to my home country. Even so, any triumphant celebration of queer ideology is a nice break from State of the Union preaching how there’s only “two genders.” I listen to “Virgin” and realize why the record hasn’t left my mind. It reflects change and hope, one that even two years prior would’ve been more publicly celebrated. You can feel the pain of grappling with her body, unsure of how she wishes to express herself. Even if she still identifies as cisgender, some elements suggest she’s open to new ideas.
She sang from a place so vulnerable that its electronic production couldn’t help but sound like scratching at her skin, trying to make her true self break out in the most Cronenbergian manner. It’s far from the erratic deconstruction of Charli XCX’s “Brat,” but it had a more refreshing honesty. It could be that she’s younger and in a less certain period of her life, but it’s also that turning point where so many tough decisions are about to be made and will define her next decade. This was her own mind growing into a non-binary state, becoming something beyond the bounds that her already creative prowess could ever achieve. Compared to an American society that is getting mad over university professors failing students for not citing any sources or engaging with the prompt, it is a vision of the world I want to live in.
I hear the messiness, the unpleasant rumination that comes with celebrating the discoveries and mourning what came before. It’s beautiful to find answers amid the uncertainty, alluding to what Lorde could be in five years. I speculate it will be even greater, more boundary pushing, and, most importantly, uncaring what others think. There may be many icons who fit that bill, most notably Renee Rapp, but few are borderline arthouse quite like Lorde. She’s the party child who we’ve witnessed come into her own since her teens. Given how well most of us write a three-minute track in high school, it’s a miracle that she’s been as consistent as she has been without losing her personality. I’d even argue this is true on “Solar Power,” even if the winking and satirical sunbaked vibes were misunderstood.
Many (myself included) might find her latest a bit too similar to “Melodrama.” I think it’s a self-conscious decision inspired by her previous work being poorly received, suggesting an embarrassment or a sense of feeling lost creatively. The regression seems natural, if just for an artist to reground her sense of self. I mourn the wild turns that a successful “Solar Power” could’ve ushered in. Even so, having that bump in the road is as much motivation to limit your impulsions as it is to pivot into something more honest. She can only do that by reshaping the sound and image that came before.
It’s grappling with the past in order to start moving forward. It’s there in the minor details, where the production aches with new sounds and ideas, questioning the potential maturity that she wouldn’t have had on “Pure Heroine.” Like the artwork suggests, this is the most internal record she has released yet. It may have too many details that come along with it, but artists are nothing if not over-sharers. The passion is better than phoning it in, turning to a foolhardy chart-topping formula just because fans want it. Instead, it grows esoteric, possibly isolating many but creating something incomparable to her peers. It’s the fresh mix-up pop needed in a year that felt at times too risk-averse.
I’m still unsure if this is a hit or miss by conventional standards. Removing subjective factors, I wonder if the conversation is still there, or if fans are suggesting that Lorde has lost her way. It’s two records now of inconvenient melodies and artistic license that, as the premiere single would suggest, leaves them asking, “What was that?” In an era where sincerity is mocked off the internet, it’s getting harder to be oneself and really mean it.
Then again, her appeal was subverting pop conventions with her own brash view of the world. It’s one of the outsiders judging America and its nonstop excesses, who could sing about small-town life and make the cliches feel new. She never fit into the mold, and it’s why David Bowie praised her early on. The melodic touches were radio-friendly even with their scathing undertones. “Royals” still gets played alongside the braggadocio being criticized. Even songs from her most acclaimed record, “Melodrama,” haven’t had that level of conventional crossover. She hasn’t changed ideologically, just personally. Is that enough in a society that can’t take Fletcher liking men, or the overt camp of Sabrina Carpenter, without thinking they’re demoralizing the public? Is there any room for media literacy to truly engage with difficult topics?
Is “Virgin” connecting with audiences? It doesn’t need to reach everyone, but it should resonate with those questioning who they want to be in life. When queerness is demonized, any candid commentary goes a long way. Thankfully, it’s at least an exciting dive into how confusing it is to be a girl/boy/whatever. She doesn’t claim to stand for everyone and, while I think her narrative got buried under less significant events of the year, she manages to be all the more reassuring in the process. The playfulness may not fully land for me, but I get the sense that the pop-up performances and subversive sexual marketing come from someplace that few of us could hope to achieve. She’s risking her future on the battle with herself more than record executives or a public that may not get her new image, and I love that for her.
I look at the listener count on Spotify, and I’d argue it’s a hit. Did it garner any Grammy Awards? That’s not the point, but I think, like Lorde herself, it’s a record that doesn’t need to be understood now. It may take years before it gets a proper assessment. It’s not like Eilish, who has become so immediately accepted that she was part of the promotion for LA28 during a 2024 Olympics preview. Maybe it will fit into the narrative to come, and, when it does, I hope it leads to a significant difference in how we see the world. I don’t want LGBTQIA+ art to become a novelty again or rarely allowed to be expressed in public venues. I recognize this generalization is stretching in a world where communities are more connected than ever, thanks to social media, but when Honey Don’t (2025) was the last movie I saw in theaters with a lesbian protagonist (down from at least three the year prior), I think we could do better.
Maybe I don’t love the record because I had my own experience with something similar in 2021 with Christine and the Queens’ “Paranoia, Angels, True Love.” It was a 90-minute operatic journey exploring the less distinguishable sides of trans identity. I love how immersive and uncompromising it is. Even the length feels defiant before you realize it’s a bilingual English/French album where Madonna plays the guardian angel. It’s a demanding listen, but it connects anyone who listens to the implicit and spiritual found in Rahim C. Redcar’s messaging. By comparison, Lorde’s latest can’t help but feel premature, or at least awaiting a greater sense of self. This is an artist who still feels like a seedling. Ideally, her magnum opus is still a decade or two away… which makes me grateful to be alive for different reasons. How could a future with an even better Lorde album be totally bad? The simple answer is that it can’t. Not having the answers now just means I get to find more clues and enjoy reveling in the mystery.
Part of me still regrets not buying “Virgin” when I had the chances. The artwork is provocative, likely to draw further thought when stuck next to the more beautiful album covers of her contemporaries. I still love how much it stands out, creating a message about embracing oneself, even if it seems ugly or unpleasant. The fact that it sat next to “The Tortured Poets Department” at Target does seem comical and makes me believe the next generation is in good hands. They won’t always settle for the convenient package. One day, they’ll choose something jarring, possibly maladaptive, and hopefully that will be enough to keep things weird. Not weird in the sense of being misunderstood, but making the culture more experimental again. On that day, I’ll wish I had it to commemorate the shift. On that day, when Target stopped supporting music altogether, that’s when the connections to self-expression will matter most. I’m not sure how things will turn out, but it’ll be undeniably worthwhile if Lorde is there leading the charge.
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