“‘Member what you thought was grief before you got the call?” she asks herself. “Secrets From a Girl (Who’s Seen It All)” is written from the perspective of Lorde imparting wisdom to her younger self on matters of growth and young womanhood. On two songs, Lorde grieves for her late pup. Antonoff plays the sweet guitar melody on this song, but an even bigger nugget is the harmonizing guest stars: Phoebe Bridgers, Clairo, Marlon Williams and James Milne of Lawrence Arabia. Here she sings of needing to unwind from the action-packed pace of tour life with a considerably more low-key activity.
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And on the very literal “Stoned at the Nail Salon,” she wonders how to balance her work and personal lives. It’s something she questioned until Grammy presenter Carole King called her name for Song of the Year.
Lorde tells a related story on “California,” about her first trip to Los Angeles and wondering whether a music career was really for her. “‘Cause we are all broken and sad where are the dreams that we had? … Let’s hope the sun will show us the path.” The sun, a representative of the natural world, becomes the “path” that guides this story. “Now if you’re looking for a saviour, well that’s not me/ You need someone to take your pain for you? Well, that’s not me,” she sings. In the end, she subscribes to the Charles Barkley school of not being a role model. She addresses her meteoric success (“Teen millionaire having nightmares from the camera flash”), her anxiety (“Won’t take the call if it’s the label or the radio”) and not fitting in (“Arm in a cast at the museum gala/ Fork in my purse to take home to my mother”).
On album opener “The Path,” she writes about stressing over being the person that her fans look up to for guidance. On several songs, Lorde looks back on significant moments of her music career, and sometimes questions herself and her identity. It’s the second song on the album, however, and that carefree attitude is short-lived. It’s the album’s lone moment of over happiness. “My cheeks in high colour, overripe peaches/ No shirt, no shoes, only my features/ My boy behind me, he’s taking pictures,” she sings. Lorde has said she wanted to write a fun summer song. Featuring drummer Matt Chamberlain (Pearl Jam, many others), the acoustic-guitar-driven tune is as close to “Green Light” as Solar Power gets (but that’s not very close). The title track, which preceded the album, keeps things breezy and light.
Who here watches the news regularly and hasn’t considered what to pack in a survival kit? Over the runtime, she also lists off what she’d bring with her to her desert island: “Wearing SPF 3000 for the ultraviolet rays/ Made it to the island on the last of the outbound planes/ Got a trunkful of Simone and Céline and of course my magazines/ I’m gonna live out my days.” This place also gets a mention on “Fallen Fruit,” even as it remains unnamed. Later in the album, on the 90-second “Leader of the New Regime” (one of two songs cowritten with Malay), she fantasizes about escaping to her safe space and away from the crumbling, untenable world-one she’s described as unspoiled by other people. Her voice intermingles with other women (or layered with her own), creating a ’60s Laurel Canyon folk vibe. Lorde sings in a hushed, brooding way over a muted guitar-led melody light, ominous bass and adornment by a nodding electric guitar and synths. “Fallen Fruit” is sonically representative of most of the album, which was produced by Jack Antonoff. “But how can I love what I know I am gonna lose?” “And we will walk together/ … Through the halls of splendour where the apple trees all grew/ You’ll leave us dancing on the fallen fruit,” Lorde sings on “Fallen Fruit,” which she’s described as being about her rage at the generations who’ve propelled climate to catastrophic levels. However, the album could have benefited from some tempo changes here and there. The album’s use of electronic percussion doesn’t become notable until the last couple of tracks, but they’re not songs for dancing, as evidenced by the songs’ themes. There’s no “Royals,” “Ribs” or “Green Light.” The title track is as close as you get to a banger on Solar Power. The songs themselves seem to breezily float along, halfway between sleep and waking.
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