That's often what gets me to fall in love with a song--finding one little tidbit that speaks to me outside the accompanying music--and that line in particular evoked something I wanted to see so badly in my own poems. Who was this woman on the alternative station, crooning such a unique and thought-provoking lyric?
Hearing a song for the first time, much like reading a book, is something you never get back. Now that Lorde's "Royals" has been entirely overplayed, I'll admit that I won't go anywhere near it. But that first listen was so mentally rich that, after being incredibly slow to the pitch (as always), I was determined to see what else I could discover from New Zealand's latest. And thus, my review of Pure Heroine unfolds.
Pure Heroine is this come-and-get-me pursuit of happiness that's astoundingly mature in style. While my initial interest in Lorde was her poetic lyrics, my ultimate dedication to her music is actually more in terms of the way it sounds. I could have her album breathing into my ears for days and not get tired of it. Pure Heroine details being the little person in an unloved city, being on the outside of people's talk, and the intimacy of friendship among it all, and I can sense that in every passing measure of her music.
What I dislike about Pure Heroine is exactly what I like about it: the lyrics. For a phrase or two, I'm totally entranced, caught up in how well a teenager can pair words and rhythm in this savory, swaying sound I've come to love. Her word choice, tone, and imagery remind me of my own at times, so I've almost come to think of this album as a similar poetic soul. But without warning, Lorde drops her lyrical maturity for something, well...immature.
I noticed it first in "Ribs," when Lorde sings "My Mom and Dad let me stay home." I was willing to ignore it (still am) because I liked the frenzied repetition. I also hadn't listened to enough Lorde to notice the pattern quite yet. Let's look at a few songs from the rest of the album:
Team
There's something about Lorde's interest in teeth that I'm inexplicably obsessed with, and it pops up again here: "A hundred jewels on throats /A hundred jewels between teeth."
Yes. I'm hung on her words in this syrupy sort of happiness. I'm a poetry nerd that's relatively easy to please, and this song is exactly the kind of simple fix I need. "Team" is light and enticing, and I'm completely engaged. We come to the chorus:
"We live in cities you'll never see on screen
Not very pretty, but we sure know how to run things
Living in ruins of the palace within my dreams"
And I'm in the throes of the verse, loving every word, until suddenly: "We're on each others' teams."
What? Here the moonlit dance scene, the hometown in ruins, the whole scene of the song vanishes. It seems like a classic case of running out of applicable words that rhyme, but nonetheless. Those five words drop me out of the chill party haze this song conjures in my brain, and I have to remind myself to get back into it. It doesn't take much for me to regain my interest in the song, but this is just one example of something Lorde does throughout Pure Heroine.
If you're going to get colloquial, there has to be a good reason, I think. Take this song's repeated phrase: "I'm kind of over getting told to throw my hands up in the air / So there." Finally, an artist directly slaps a dunce cap on pop music. That's what I needed to hear. That's colloquialism I can get behind.
Tennis Court
This song has not ceased to frustrate me since my first time around on Pure Heroine. There's something about choosing high school stereotypes (the class clown, the beauty queen) that irks me; what happened to the lonely outcasts looking on to the rest of the party? Wasn't there any other way of describing those two personas without resorting to a common phrase?
As aforementioned, Lorde slaps pop culture around a little bit in "Team," which is greatly appreciated. So why does this song essentially ignore that rejection of the idiocy of pop culture? Throwing in a deep-throated "Yeahhh" here and there is entirely reminiscent of the same old Top 40 nonsense we hear on a daily basis, and that's exactly what happens here.
I don't mean to say that Lorde suddenly embraces the glam lifestyle that is the theme at large in pop music. I just mean that there's something shortsighted about relying on a repeating "Yeahhh" in a song that's about so much more.
Really, though, the most frustrating thing about this song is that despite it's shortcomings, I still can't stop listening.
400 Lux
Truth be told, I don't have much to complain about when it comes to "400 Lux." Its innocently sensual beat and evocation of a slow and winding drive is exactly why I had it on repeat for a solid two weeks. It's really just a small moment, my complaint.
In the second verse, Lorde gives us some specifics, and it's fine at first: "Now we're wearing long sleeves and the heating comes on." But then, sung in the background and almost hidden from the rest of the song: "You buy me orange juice." And the verse sort of collapses from there. What does your beverage of choice have to do with this ethereal, late night drive? Even the mention of teeth right afterwards doesn't do it for me.
I've seen this kind of thing with poetry: everything's lovely, you trip at the clumsy part, and the end result is still pleasing. But it could be just a little better with one or two more revisions.
I could go on about this album for hours (from the inherently mature nature in most of Lorde's verses to the excellently-crafted synthesized beats) so here's the bottom line. It's very clear that Lorde is just beginning her musical career. But when you look around the minor missteps that are scattered throughout Pure Heroine, Lorde's skill with wordplay is solid, as is her musical comprehension. Her talent goes without question, so I wholeheartedly believe she's only going to get better with age.
Pure Heroine is this come-and-get-me pursuit of happiness that's astoundingly mature in style. While my initial interest in Lorde was her poetic lyrics, my ultimate dedication to her music is actually more in terms of the way it sounds. I could have her album breathing into my ears for days and not get tired of it. Pure Heroine details being the little person in an unloved city, being on the outside of people's talk, and the intimacy of friendship among it all, and I can sense that in every passing measure of her music.
What I dislike about Pure Heroine is exactly what I like about it: the lyrics. For a phrase or two, I'm totally entranced, caught up in how well a teenager can pair words and rhythm in this savory, swaying sound I've come to love. Her word choice, tone, and imagery remind me of my own at times, so I've almost come to think of this album as a similar poetic soul. But without warning, Lorde drops her lyrical maturity for something, well...immature.
I noticed it first in "Ribs," when Lorde sings "My Mom and Dad let me stay home." I was willing to ignore it (still am) because I liked the frenzied repetition. I also hadn't listened to enough Lorde to notice the pattern quite yet. Let's look at a few songs from the rest of the album:
Team
There's something about Lorde's interest in teeth that I'm inexplicably obsessed with, and it pops up again here: "A hundred jewels on throats /A hundred jewels between teeth."
Yes. I'm hung on her words in this syrupy sort of happiness. I'm a poetry nerd that's relatively easy to please, and this song is exactly the kind of simple fix I need. "Team" is light and enticing, and I'm completely engaged. We come to the chorus:
"We live in cities you'll never see on screen
Not very pretty, but we sure know how to run things
Living in ruins of the palace within my dreams"
And I'm in the throes of the verse, loving every word, until suddenly: "We're on each others' teams."
What? Here the moonlit dance scene, the hometown in ruins, the whole scene of the song vanishes. It seems like a classic case of running out of applicable words that rhyme, but nonetheless. Those five words drop me out of the chill party haze this song conjures in my brain, and I have to remind myself to get back into it. It doesn't take much for me to regain my interest in the song, but this is just one example of something Lorde does throughout Pure Heroine.
If you're going to get colloquial, there has to be a good reason, I think. Take this song's repeated phrase: "I'm kind of over getting told to throw my hands up in the air / So there." Finally, an artist directly slaps a dunce cap on pop music. That's what I needed to hear. That's colloquialism I can get behind.
Tennis Court
This song has not ceased to frustrate me since my first time around on Pure Heroine. There's something about choosing high school stereotypes (the class clown, the beauty queen) that irks me; what happened to the lonely outcasts looking on to the rest of the party? Wasn't there any other way of describing those two personas without resorting to a common phrase?
As aforementioned, Lorde slaps pop culture around a little bit in "Team," which is greatly appreciated. So why does this song essentially ignore that rejection of the idiocy of pop culture? Throwing in a deep-throated "Yeahhh" here and there is entirely reminiscent of the same old Top 40 nonsense we hear on a daily basis, and that's exactly what happens here.
I don't mean to say that Lorde suddenly embraces the glam lifestyle that is the theme at large in pop music. I just mean that there's something shortsighted about relying on a repeating "Yeahhh" in a song that's about so much more.
Really, though, the most frustrating thing about this song is that despite it's shortcomings, I still can't stop listening.
Truth be told, I don't have much to complain about when it comes to "400 Lux." Its innocently sensual beat and evocation of a slow and winding drive is exactly why I had it on repeat for a solid two weeks. It's really just a small moment, my complaint.
In the second verse, Lorde gives us some specifics, and it's fine at first: "Now we're wearing long sleeves and the heating comes on." But then, sung in the background and almost hidden from the rest of the song: "You buy me orange juice." And the verse sort of collapses from there. What does your beverage of choice have to do with this ethereal, late night drive? Even the mention of teeth right afterwards doesn't do it for me.
I've seen this kind of thing with poetry: everything's lovely, you trip at the clumsy part, and the end result is still pleasing. But it could be just a little better with one or two more revisions.
I could go on about this album for hours (from the inherently mature nature in most of Lorde's verses to the excellently-crafted synthesized beats) so here's the bottom line. It's very clear that Lorde is just beginning her musical career. But when you look around the minor missteps that are scattered throughout Pure Heroine, Lorde's skill with wordplay is solid, as is her musical comprehension. Her talent goes without question, so I wholeheartedly believe she's only going to get better with age.
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