I had a different post planned for today, but a tweet I stumbled upon last night turned my plans around so here I am again, low-key rushing to write this before my self-imposed deadline. It occurred to me that this weekend, I was supposed to celebrate the one-year anniversary of Melodrama, the sophomore album of New Zealand-based singer-songwriter Lorde, one of my all-time favourite records and one I also hold close to my heart. Frankly, if it wasn’t for that tweet, I would’ve forgotten about it completely; having come back home for the summer just less than a week ago, I had a hard time keeping up with my work and other things I wouldn’t usually let slip by. It’s not too late to write about it on here, though, so I will use this opportunity accordingly.
I’ve been a fan of Lorde’s music for a few years now, and most of those who know me personally also know that I support this girl almost as passionately as I do with Taylor Swift (whom you already know, I absolutely stan). I came across her music at a time in my life when I was exploring a lot of different genres, few of which actually stuck with me through the years to come. It was hard for me not to like Lorde, when I could relate to the message of so many of her songs, and the dark twist she put on pop resonated with what I was looking for in music at that time. Her contribution to the soundtrack of what became my favourite The Hunger Games movie only made me stick around long enough for her to release Melodrama in mid-2017, a record that has not only captured how much Lorde (on her real name, Ella Yelich-O’Connor) has grown up musically, but that has also struck a sensitive chord with me, for reasons which I am going to expand on in this post.
Unlike my other recent attempt to write about music, this will not be an album review as much as a piece of commentary meant to showcase what Melodrama has to offer, both musically and lyrically. Here, I am making the case for why this is one of the best albums of last year and maybe even the last decade, and why you should give it a listen if you haven’t already. Of course, because I wouldn’t be able to help myself otherwise, I will share why this album means, and will always mean so much to me.
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Photo source: Wikipedia.org
At its core, Melodrama is a break-up album. Nothing more than that. In the second record of her career, Ella shares her experience with the most devastating break-up she’s ever had, the process of coming to terms with it and the aftermath. Basic stuff that music’s given us a lot of, I can’t argue there and yet, there is a bit more to the story of Melodrama than that. The very beginning of the album paints the picture of a happier, more upbeat, yet erratic mental place, authentically reminding of youth partying at nighttime and falling for somebody over glasses of booze. The second half of the album is rather gloomy and introspective, bouncing between the desperation of being alone and the realisation that actually, clinging to that one person would do you more harm than good. The album explores the stages of dealing with heartbreak, but in a realistic rather than methodical way: paired-up songs like Hard Feelings/Loveless and Liability and Liability (Reprise) demonstrate how irregular and disordered this process can be, taking you back to square one in your most difficult moments or pushing you back upfront after a rowdy night out that proved you actually don’t need the person you were crying over. If anything, Melodrama is a true ride of the heart, taking you to so many places in the short span of forty minutes and giving you satisfying closure at the end.
Lorde doesn’t play around with words on Melodrama, and each of the tracks has a particular lyrical stamp to it, hence why it would be impossible to me to even consider choosing a favourite song. The album has a little bit for everybody, ranging from catchy rhymes that people memorise easily after a couple of listens, and later shout when the song is played in a club, and verses of a ravaging emotional force. Both simple, yet compelling punchlines, and elaborate metaphors.
Photo source: Melodrama album booklet (posted online by Jordan White)
Sometimes I wake up in a different bedroom
I whisper things, the city sings 'em back to you.
- Green Light
On Homemade Dynamite, for example. A song essentially about house partying and having the best time ever with your fellows of age, which somehow ends up with the verse Might get your friend to drive, but he can hardly see/ We’ll end up painted on the road/ Red and chrome/ All the broken glass sparkling/ I guess we’re partying. Or Writer In The Dark, in my opinion the most poignant track on this record, in which Ella has the bitter realisation that her ex-lover … stood on my chest and kept me down/ Hated hearing my name on the lips of a crowd/ Did my best to exist just for you.
Honestly, I could write volumes on my favourite lyrics from Melodrama, breaking them down and showing how complex their meaning really is, but that would spoil your own exploration of this record, wouldn’t it? For me, it’s fascinating to see how versatile of a poet Lorde is on this album. Something that’s been captured on her widely-acclaimed musical debut, Pure Heroine, but maybe not as evidently. In terms of lyrics and wording, she is doing so much on Melodrama, a product of the wise sensitivity that has made her unique among other female songwriters that are big right now.
In terms of music and production, Melodrama is as much of an immersive experience. Unlike her previous record, Ella has composed the entirety of this album herself, along with Jack Antonoff of fun. and Bleachers and a small team of producers. Not surprising, since Melodrama sounds like a very intimate, very personal record at the very first listen. The album is quite diverse, a bit of a leap from Lorde’s familiar dream pop sound to more electropop tones, which fits the overall lyrical spirit just right. You get a particular R&B vibe in Homemade Dynamite, classic piano chords in Liability, a catchy anti-chorus in The Louvre and funky drum beats in Supercut. And so much more. And yet, the album feels sonically cohesive and unbelievably balanced, for how many things are tried in it. After Melodrama, I know that Lorde and Antonoff are a musical match made in heaven and I can only hope they will work together again in the future.
Photo source: Melodrama album booklet
Bodies all through my house
I know this story by heart:
Jack and Jill got fucked up and possessive
When it get dark.
- Sober
Beyond all these things, wonderful as they are, Melodrama has a special personal significance for me. And surprisingly enough, it’s not related to some devastating break-up I had or, really, anything along the lines of love going wrong. The rest of the things that Lorde sings about on this record, though? Absolutely. Take for example, the partying that I’ve done my fair amount of back in my final year of sixth form. The lights and the colours and everybody getting drunk and getting stupid crushes on the most unlikely people, and being all wound up and melodramatic about the smallest of things not going their way. How crazy and restless everybody felt, and how alone we all thought we were even when we were together. How blindly we all thought that love, friendship, fun, all the stories we shared were going to be forever, and how much time it took us to sober up once they were over. The hope and the fall resulting from holding on to it. All the little bits, all the feelings that were a bit too much for us back then. When I first listened to Melodrama, it all came back to me. I didn’t even have to try to look for it.
From this perspective, I guess the album has also offered me some sort of closure for that chapter in my life. I had no reason to go back to these stories and I had the memories to prove that, indeed, but I still struggled with assuming the lessons that I had learned at the time. Maybe that meant that I hadn’t paid my dues just yet, maybe it meant that I had to go back to finish what I started. Listening through Melodrama a few times throughout the past year helped me truly understand what those lessons were. That it is not always about what you’re going through, but how you choose to get to the surface and move on, and rebuild your life. That it’s alright to be alone. That it’s alright that I am sensitive and I feel too much sometimes, and that I can actually use this productively in my writing (you’d better not get me started on how much this album has shaped my style). That I should never, ever let anybody undermine me or my work, or write my own story for me. Things like these were hidden for me to discover in all the songs off Melodrama, and that’s really what pushed my purely objective preference for this record to a great amount of gratitude for it existing in the first place.
Photo source: Melodrama album booklet
All the nights spent off our faces
Trying to find these perfect places
What the fuck are perfect places, anyway?
- Perfect Places
Finally, I must get this one last thing out of the way: this album was fucking robbed at the Grammy’s. I don’t know what happened, but it’s ourageous. And I’ll drop the mic here.
If you haven’t had the chance to listen to Melodrama yet, I urge you to do so. Maybe it’s not your usual cup of tea in terms of music, but I am fairly certain you’re going to like it. And once you finish your listen, come back here and drop your impressions in the comments section!
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Photo sources:
Album cover - Wikipedia.org
Album booklet extracts - various sources (hyperlinks on pictures)