Not taking a page from the pop star handbook that insists “produce, produce, produce” and “always stay in the spotlight lest they forget you” that most of her contemporaries have adhered to, Lorde will release her third album over an eight-year period at the end of August. Called Solar Power, it has arrived after a four-year respite from 2017’s Melodrama. An album also produced by Jack Antonoff, who appears on this one as well, because he’s clearly giving head to all of these women that just can’t get enough (Taylor, Lana, et al).
Of the record’s tone, Lorde stated in a press release, “The album is a celebration of the natural world, an attempt at immortalizing the deep, transcendent feelings I have when I’m outdoors. In times of heartache, grief, deep love, or confusion, I look to the natural world for answers. I’ve learned to breathe out, and tune in. This is what came through.” While “Solar Power,” the first single, might have been indicative of that declaration (as well as offering a video that indicated a cross-promotional deal with Madewell), the second single, an homage to arguably the least natural place in the world, is not. Nonetheless, “Stoned at the Nail Salon” seems to be a relief to many who thought we’d lost “melodramatic,” “brooding” Lorde to something like “maturity” or being in New Zealand for too long, therefore being unable to avoid having a bright, chipper mood.
Until this song, it seemed more people were interested in talking about Lorde, of all people, managing to create one of the most “scandalous” album photos in recent memory. “You gotta do it while you got it, y’know?,” Lorde explained to Stephen Colbert of flashing her ass and snatch on the now iconic cover. As though, at twenty-four and with a shit ton of money for “beauty resources,” she’s not going to look just fine for many decades to come. And obviously, Madonna wouldn’t agree with Lorde’s sentiment at all (incidentally, said pop star was Lorde’s age when she became famous). Yet lately, for whatever reason, singers who are still young like to make a big deal about getting older. Most recently this has included Billie Eilish on “NDA” lamenting, “I’ve been having fun/Getting older now” and Lana Del Rey on “Dark But Just A Game” using the analogy, “No rose left on the vines.” Lorde, too, is sure to mention vines and roses in her composition, lamenting (or perhaps just “accepting”), “The vine hanging over the door” and “‘Cause all the beautiful girls, they will fade like the roses.” Lorde’s way of saying that even the “Instagram models” she felt inadequate “around” will age, too. So, cool, I guess? That’s one long-term way to feel better about yourself.
Del Rey (therefore Joni Mitchell) parallels also make themselves evident when Lorde talks of wanting to keep riding the carousel—sort of like a Joan Didion analogy for staying at the fair too long—but knowing it’s time to “cool down, whatever that means.” On “Get Free,” Del Rey also talks of continuing to “ride the ride” even though she wants to get off of it. Knowing that eventually she’ll have to, one way or the other. Yes, another allusion to time killing all.
Then there’s the other Antonoff favorite (and friend of Lorde), Taylor Swift, using the passage of time in “august” to describe how, “I can see us lost in the memory/August slipped away into a moment in time/‘Cause it was never mine.” The use of seasons and flower (specifically roses blooming then dying) imagery to connote “aging” (when these women are nowhere near their forties—the “scary” decade—yet and will never look their age anyway) might be cliché, but for good reason. They’re highly effective for evoking bittersweet melancholia. Lorde’s favorite thing to this day to convey in her songs, even if she claims, “‘Cause all the music you loved at sixteen you’ll grow out of.” Don’t tell that to The Cure or Britney Spears fans. And also definitely don’t repeat the following Lorde lyric to Britney: “Spend all the evenings you can with the people who raised you.”
Lorde might have regrets about being on tour all the time in her youth (which, again, she still has), wondering if perhaps she ought to have been home more to see her family and friends. Ergo the opening line, “Got a wishbone drying on the windowsill in my kitchen/Just in case I wake up and realize I’ve chosen wrong.” The old “I traded fame for love without a second thought” gambit. Yes, it’s an increasingly popular topic for the singer-songwriter. Especially if they happen to be writing off all their thoughts as potentially nothing more than being stoned, therefore philosophical, at the nail salon. A song title which itself negates the idea of someone taking anything “too seriously.” For the nail salon environment is associated with frivolity: mindless relaxation, light gossip, trash TV playing in the background, reading “magazines” that are actually tabloids. So how can Lorde really let any amount of rumination get too deep in between all that and the fumes?
But one imagines that’s the point of presenting such a dichotomy. Serious reflection comes when you least expect it whilst stoned, and Lorde has already had four years to reflect anyway. Already being poked fun at for her hibernation (even if she tends to hibernate in the sun), the Primavera Sound Festival remarked that she’s “emerg[ing] from her retirement with her third album” and to headline their 2022 show. Who knows how long Lorde might take to release new music again after this era? Like Adele, she feels she’s proven herself enough times to, well, take as much time as she needs. Which is ironic for someone so concerned with aging, and worrying about youth—still, unfortunately, a very key characteristic for being a musician with an audience that remains interested—slipping away. One would think that would compel her to churn out ten more albums before thirty. But no, Lorde is an enigma like that. And half of her wonders if civilian life is the more worthwhile path in the end (eerily, the opening song on Solar Power is called “The Path”).
Lorde’s lament is not sung with a total air of loneliness, however, as she is joined in vocals by Phoebe Bridgers, Clairo, Marlon Williams and James Milne. All combining to create a rich, folksy tapestry (call it the Taylor Swift folklore/evermore effect) that invites the listener to reflect on their own existence as well—high or not, at the nail salon or not. Because honestly, both habits are kind of bougie these days.
