“We crave a different kind of buzz.” She meant it as the tour for her debut album Pure Heroine graduated from small clubs to festival and amphitheater stages, Lorde adopted a costume and a demeanor that ran counter to the pop-star aspirations her songs seemed to point to, dressed in black pantsuits and dark cherry lipstick, dancing like no one was looking. “That kind of luxe just ain’t for us,” the 16-year-old sneered. “Royals” was a call to arms for the children of a new-rising generation to set aside the mundane concerns of the previous ones, the pining for things out of their reach and the ill-advised trust in the goodness of privileged gentry.
In 2013, the first time we heard Lorde’s voice creeping up scales like beachside waters rising at dusk in her debut single “Royal,” two qualities stuck out: her snarling dismissal of celebrity culture - born out of time spent in her quaint New Zealand bayside community of Devonport, just a ferry ride away from Auckland - and her tone, at once inviting and bewitching, half-whisper and half-snarl.
0 kommentar(er)
