Album Review: Lorde - Pure Heroine

Lorde
Pure Heroine
Rating: Grrrr

Although she is only 16, New Zealand singer Lorde (nee Ella Maria Lani Yelich-O'Connor) projects an image of a world-weary soul bored with all the trappings of our Internet age. While this could snarkily come across as the usual "teenagers think they know everything" cliche, Lorde is smart enough not to head down this path, choosing, for the most part, to use her critiques more towards expressing dissatisfaction, seeking more from life. Teaming up with writer/producer Joel Little for her debut Pure Heroine, Lorde works within a tightly controlled palate, however, these tracks, while thematically and musically linked, work together without sounding too monochromatic.

Of course, most people will flock to Pure Heroine solely for her smash single "Royals," which is a shame, considering it is not even the best song on the record. But for a first peek into the record, it is a pretty good introduction. Over minimal backing, merely finger snaps and muted percussion, a subtle bass line, and a low-end synth throb, "Royals" initially seems to be a harsh critique of hip-hop and pop culture's fixation on high-end excess, but soon reveals itself to be more of a personal realization that there is too wide a divide between what you are being told you should want and what you actually have.



Belying her young years, Lorde shows remarkable depth and insight in her lyrics, never coming across as mere teen diary ruminations or feeling too outside her range of experience. Her best songs seek a universal level while still retaining personal elements. "Ribs" is her best song so far, a dreamy, quietly insistent track that moves from ambient washes of synths to a slowly rising beat and more urgency. The track is one of her most revealing, chronicling that time in life where youthful aspirations are tempered by age and experience, with the gradual realization that "This dream isn't feeling sweet/We're reeling through the midnight streets/And I've never felt more alone/It feels so scary, getting old."



Most of her lyrics focus on subtle critiques of youth culture, understanding their nature but always seeking something better. On tracks like "Tennis Court," Lorde sees that she is "only as young as the minute is full of it" and that "It's a new art form showing people how little we care," knowing how to navigate the tricky hallways of being in the crowd, but not allowing it to define her.



Under pounding drums and air-raid siren synths, "400 Lux" is a bleak view of suburbia full of "roads where the houses don't change" and where the kids are all "hollow like the bottles that we drain."



While on "Team," Lorde sings about the disconnect she feels from all the images she is bombarded with on TV and the Internet telling her what she is supposed to want, reflecting "I'm kind of over gettin' told to throw my hands up in the air."



There have been critiques of Pure Heroine saying that it is a little one note and same sounding, however, while there is a similar tone throughout the record, it suits these tracks well, and there are enough stylistic differences that keep the record from getting monotonous. Pure Heroine is a fully realized debut that is even more remarkable considering Lorde's age. I will be curious to see how her career pans out, whether this record is merely the perfect amalgamation of her talents that can't be improved upon, or whether this is merely the stepping off point for something magical. Certainly, I am betting on the latter.

Rating Scale:

Chilfos: masterpiece; coolest thing I've heard in ages.

Woof Daddy: excellent; just a hair away from being a masterpiece.

Grrrr: very good; will definitely be considered for my top releases of the year.

Yeah Daddy Make Me Want It: good; definitely invites further listens and piques one's interest for more material.

Meh: not horrible, but certainly not great; could have either been polished, trimmed, or re-thought.

Jeez Lady: what the hell happened? Just plain bad. They should hang their heads in shame and be forced to listen to Lady Gaga ad nauseam as penance.

Tragicistani: so bad, armed villagers with pitchforks and torches should run the artist out of the country for inflicting this abomination on the human race.