Who Put the Red Light on Lorde?
Photo courtesy of the Lorde Facebook page
As someone who has set the groundwork for popular young musicians like Khalid, Alessia Cara, and Billie Eilish, it has been a while since we have heard from notable New Zealand artist Ella Yelich O’Connor, otherwise known as Lorde. The distinctive singer was sixteen when she released her first album, Pure Heroine, in 2013— selling over one million copies in the span of five months and becoming one of the youngest artists ever to have an international number one hit, “Royals.” It makes sense why fans adore her so much— she provides complex lyrics that resonate with teens in a way that’s darkly authentic and emotionally vulnerable. Where adults are consistently reminding teens to figure themselves out in a time and age where they don’t know who they are yet, Lorde provides an electrifying beat and a poetic lense for them to fall back on. They aren’t looking for a way to relate to well known adult musicians, they’re looking to be validated by other teens — and Lorde does that perfectly. Yet, the “Green Light” musician has come to a red light; she’s stopped. She’s missing. Where has she, and her beautiful melodies, gone?
The shy introspective Grammy award winner’s music is almost manic and people rave about it. In both Pure Heroine and Melodrama, she talks about how she is just like any other teen, in a way that is different from everyone else. Sounds like an oxymoron, right? That’s because it is. The singer wrote Pure Heroine with the intent to reach out to her audience personally. After she finished Melodrama in 2017, however, she wrote it letting us know she needed space, that she reached far enough to her audience. She’s like any other introvert, and I speak for myself when I say that wanting attention and receiving attention are two different things. You want the attention, but you hate having it. Lorde reveals this message in a profound way, one that is both haunting and magnificent.
Lorde, in total, has been nominated for five Grammy awards and won two. Her popular hit, “Royals,” won Song of The Year and Best Solo Performance at the 56th Annual Grammy Awards. She was also nominated for Best Pop Vocal Album and Record of the Year that same year, but lost to Bruno Mars’s Unorthodox Jukebox and Daft Punk, Pharrell Williams and Nile Rodgers’ “Get Lucky.” At the 60th Annual Grammy Awards, Lorde’s Melodrama was nominated for Album of the Year, but lost again to Bruno Mars’s 24k Magic. On top of these nominations and awards, the international popstar has won awards like the World Music Award for World’s Best Alternative Act in 2014, New Zealand Music People’s Choice Award in 2017, and the Brit Award for International Female Solo Artist in 2014 and 2018. Her music is harmonious, leaving a ghostly aftertaste on not only this country, but on this world.
I was thirteen when “Royals” first released and I was utterly obsessed. At that time, I had just started playing volleyball, a sport I would continue to play for the next seven years, and I would listen to the song everyday before my practices and games that year. Of course, at thirteen, you don’t fully understand the meanings behind the music, but it didn’t necessarily matter to me at the time. In those moments, listening to that song felt right. Everything fit like a puzzle piece when I heard it. I would continue to listen to Lorde for the following years to come, coming to the realization that her music related to me in different ways, on different levels, and at different ages. After going through a rough breakup when I was seventeen, I listened to her phenomenally acclaimed song, “Writer in the Dark,” on repeat until I felt better. After losing a particularly toxic friend group, I found myself constantly humming her unique, “Love Club.” I couldn’t get over the eerie lyrics, “the only problem that I got with the club is how you’re severed from the people who watched you grow up.” It felt like she touched me, like it couldn’t get more real than that. As a writer who is an introvert, the beautiful, “Bravado,” validates me after I hear people tell me that I don’t have much to say. It didn’t matter if I was thirteen or seventeen, her music applied to me either way, and for that I could revel in her glory.
Where is the fascinating Ella Yelich O’Connor and what is it she is doing to grab our attention? What is her secret to selling over one million copies of Pure Heroine in five months? Her music isn’t the only thing that is mysterious. This mystery isn’t ours— ultimately it is one that only she can solve. Until then, we wait for that red light to turn green again.