Virgin, the recently released fourth studio album by New Zealand-born artist Lorde, marks a bold, vulnerable and surprisingly raw declaration from an artist increasingly comfortable exposing the cracks found in their identity. Met with widespread critical acclaim on release, Virgin currently holds a Metacritic score of 82 (Metacritic, 2025), with majority of the reviews leaning positively.
Lorde is known for creating full-feeling bodies of work where each one identifies with a certain period of life, her first Pure Heroine exploring teenage angst and it’s follow up Melodrama resonating with those who have reached adult age but have no idea what that means. Virgin quickly follows this tradition, leaning into the discomfort, it’s confronting authenticity examining themes of gender, body image, intimacy, familial relationships, eating disorders and unfiltered sexuality. Heavy hitter tracks like ‘Shapeshifter’ tackles the fluctuation in identity, self-desire and dependency in relationships. ‘Favourite Daughter’ deals with expectations placed on her by her mother and a struggle to be seen as more than a golden child. While in ‘Broken Glass’, and perhaps the album’s golden moment, she lists her reflection in the mirror as her biggest enemy and tackles the mental and physical consequences of having an eating disorder and once overcoming it, wishing she saw that it would be possible. An overall sense of emotional honesty is what gives Virgin it’s undeniable punch, avoiding hiding behind metaphors and bleeding reality into music. It removes the gloss of a life in the spotlight and continues the exploration of the human experience which started with her debut.
Virgin by Lorde’s album cover.
Sonically, Virgin doesn’t shy away from a rough around the edges production, using often gritty, distorting, glitchy and abrupt textures, creating a sense of sonic discomfort. Tracks like ‘Hammer’ and ‘GRWM’ notably building tension, before reaching a high and giving way. Simultaneously making use of minimalism, where tracks like ‘Clearblue’ and ‘David’ offer raw vocal layering and little instrumentation, ensuring the more electronic moments hit harder by contrast – Lorde uses space and silence intentionally, intensifying the albums emotional content.
In addition to it’s themes, Virgin discusses different means of identity – gender identity, bodily identity, the identity of being a daughter, being in love and scarily being bound by your own expectations. The writing is often sharp, candid and uncomfortable, ‘Man of the Year’ playing with the idea of masculinity, her own perception of femininity and what it means to have body agency. Self-exposure through lyrics about physicality, motherhood, trauma and sex pay off, anchoring the album and emphasizing realness. Lorde seems uninterested in creating infectious or instantaneous pop hits, and more focused on creating songs that reveal themselves over time, some tracks requiring multiple listens to really understand it’s message.
Given how deeply personal the album is it expectantly revisits similar emotional feelings, emphasizing Lorde’s personal understanding of bodily anxiety, inherited trauma and gender expression – strength is found in this consistency and allows Virgin to skate past the redundancy found in many new releases today.
Considering the album in the context of Lorde’s discography, Pure Heroine (the teenage breakout), Melodrama (her succeeded attempt at emotional theatricality) and Solar Power (a more acoustic, contemplative attempt), Virgin feels almost like a return to the emotionally charged feelings which attracted her fan base in the beginning, but with higher stakes. The album highlights a transformation, documenting her femininity and finally feeling like she’s figured herself, and her messy, constantly evolving thoughts, out. Virgin arrives at the perfect time, where authenticity is valued and artists are less expected to be polished. Further solidified by its success on popular music charts, Lorde’s position as an artist who defines pop and it’s future is undeniable.
Aligning with it’s distinctive production Virgin isn’t perfect, maybe it intentionally was never meant to be – but it’s strong and daring. The albums strength lies in Lorde’s vulnerability and willingness to embrace the uncomfortable conversations, the good and bad moments that come with one’s innocence and character-defining experiences. The hooks are more subtle than the pop-infectious the radio is used to, inevitable while she peels back the layers no one sees.
For Lorde fans and listeners who love risk-taking pop music, Virgin will burrow it’s way under the skin and live there. For listeners who prefer polished pop-perfection, multiple front to back listens will reward and prompt one’s own self-reflection. Overall, it displays an evolution from the outsider teenager on Pure Heroine and clueless young-adult on Melodrama, into someone more primitive and self-confronting. Beginning with it’s lead single ‘What Was That’, Virgin, in it’s chaotic and beautiful glory, is Lorde’s most honest album yet and will be hard to exceed.
Caitlin 
Clara 
Kath Smart