Recommended tracks: “David”, “Man Of The Year”, “Shapeshifter”
Artists you may like: Charli XCX, Chappell Roan, Reneé Rapp
Four years after the release of her third studio album Solar Power, Lorde returns with her highly anticipated fourth album, Virgin, via Republic — and with it, “Lorde Summer” is officially in full effect.
With a career defined by reinvention and emotional sincerity, Lorde has consistently carved her own path through the pop landscape. Bursting onto the scene at just 16 with her minimalist, sharp-edged debut Pure Heroine, the New Zealand-born artist quickly became a generational voice. Since then, her evolution has been marked by the sun-drenched introspection of Melodrama and the breezy existentialism of Solar Power. Now, with her latest release Virgin, Lorde returns once again with a new sonic chapter that invites listeners to reconsider what vulnerability and power sound like in a world that keeps shifting.
Virgin opens with “Hammer,” which Lorde described on Instagram as an “ode to city life and horniness.” In various interviews, she’s referred to the album as a “rebirth,” and that sentiment is immediately clear in this track, especially in its soaring chorus: “I might have been born again / I’m ready to feel like I don’t have thе answers / There’s pеace in the madness over our heads / Let it carry me u-u-u-u-up.” The lyrics strike a balance between surrender and defiance, hinting at a spiritual reckoning that feels both personal and expansive. It’s an opening that doesn’t just set the tone—it signals transformation, inviting the listener into a space where uncertainty becomes a kind of freedom.
Following the opener is a stunning three-track run: “What Was That” (Lorde’s first single for the project), “Shapeshifter,” and “Man Of The Year.” One of the most impressive aspects of Virgin is how seamlessly the songs flow into one another, and this sequence is a perfect example. Lorde takes us on a journey through heartbreak, gender expression, and the emotional gymnastics of reinventing yourself to outrun the obstacles life throws your way. “Man of the Year,” the second single released ahead of the album, took my breath away from the first listen. With its funky, off-kilter production and Lorde’s powerhouse vocals, it’s a track that pulses with urgency and confidence—a kind of emotional exorcism disguised as a dance song.
One of the standout tracks on Virgin is “Clearblue,” a stripped-back song that places Lorde’s voice front and center, with minimal instrumentation to distract from its raw emotional core. The track finds her navigating the quiet, unnerving intimacy of taking a pregnancy test, delivering some of the album’s most vulnerable lyrics: “After the ecstasy, testing for pregnancy, praying in MP3 / I’m scared to let you see into the whole machine, leave it all on the field / Your metal detector hits my precious treasure, I’m nobody’s daughter / Yeah, baby, I’m free, I’m free / Free, I’m free.” It’s a haunting moment of self-exposure: fragile, fearless, and unmistakably Lorde.
“GRWM,” “Broken Glass,” and “If She Could See Me Now” all follow “Clearblue,” exploring themes of womanhood, body image, and personal growth. These tracks also feature some of the most experimental production choices on Virgin, pushing Lorde into new sonic territory. “If She Could See Me Now” stands out in particular, with Jim-E Stack’s vibrant, layered production and a surprising sample of Baby Bash & Frankie J’s “Suga Suga.” The song explores Lorde stepping into her power and reflecting on the pain that shaped her. “Baby, whenever you’d break me / I’d watch it happen, like an angel looking down / Ah-ah, ah / It made me a woman, being hurt like that / I can feel, don’t need fantasy / Oh, God, if she could see me now,” she shouts in the chorus. It’s raw, as if she’s finally speaking the words she once kept locked inside.
The final track, “David,” might be one of the best album closers I’ve ever heard in my life. I’ll admit I cried when I heard it for the first time last Friday. It falls right in line with her history of unforgettable closing tracks—something Lorde has mastered since her debut. “I made you God ’cause it was all I knew how to do / But I don’t belong to anyone,” she sing-screams toward the end, as the production swells and her vocals distort into something that sounds like the musical version of a mental breakdown: chaotic, cathartic, and completely gutting—in other words, a perfect ending.
Virgin isn’t just an album—it feels like a mirror, a scream, a whispered confession, and a dance in the dark all at once. It’s Lorde at her most experimental, most unfiltered, and maybe even her most alive. I’ve grown up with her music, and yet somehow, with every release, she still finds a way to surprise me and to say exactly what I didn’t know I needed to hear. Virgin doesn’t beg to be understood. It demands that you meet it where it is: messy, radiant, and completely free. And honestly, I wouldn’t want it any other way.
Lorde will embark on her Ultrasound World Tour starting September 17 in North America, with a European leg kicking off in November. Unsurprisingly, most dates are already sold out.
