Ariana Grande knows how cruel the world can be. “Society desperate for remedy/ Empathy, fix this reality,” she declares on “kiss me,” the sprawling opener of her eight studio album, petal. It’s no surprise Grande adopted this philosophy – love as the cure for a rotting world – given everything she’s been through: most notably, a terrorist attack during the “Dangerous Woman Tour” in 2017 and the death of her long-term partner, rapper Mac Miller, a year and some change later. More recently, she’s experienced scrutiny from a parasocial public, with many questioning her dalliances with various Wicked co-stars and taking issue – or concern (if you can even call it that) – with her increasingly gaunt appearance. That’s a lot for one person to handle.
Music as Therapy
But, in true pop star fashion, Ariana Grande uses her greatest gift – music – to nurse her wounds. Her last effort, the celestial eternal sunshine, saw Grande deploy her post-Sweetener blend of lo-fi R&B and pop to express her woes. Now, her sadness has hardened to “an unfiltered rage.” On petal, Grande triangulates grievances with her celebrity, the press, and lovers past, all while proving she’s still got a few more stylistic circles to square. She’s admittedly gone a bit “feral,” and her newfound experimentation is surprisingly ear-catching, though at times disappointingly pussyfooted, especially when paired with clumsy lyricism.
Exploring New Sounds
Take that opener, “kiss me,” whose clunky percussive hits and distorted synth crashes make the perfect apocalypse-now type atmosphere for Grande to get all existential over. That same abrasiveness is found on “petal,” a progressive-waltz whose time changes mirror its lyrical ambivalence. Here, she questions the age old notion that great art can only come from suffering. (“Take your broken heart, make it into art,” as the late Carrie Fisher said). “Long as she gets the ovation each night/ Heartbreak won’t bitе, this is paradise,” Grande sings. It’s a delicate balance every artist faces, one Grande has become accustomed to. At what point does offering up the most intimate, vulnerable parts of oneself to a hungry audience become too heavy a burden to bear? Is the solution to completely detach as to not feel anything at all? Or to keep pushing the bad feelings down?
Collaborations and Creative Freedom
Grande kept a tight ensemble of collaborators this go-around. The entire album was co-written and executive produced by herself and Ilya Salmanzadeh. Max Martin was tapped for lead single “hate that i made you love me” and two other tracks, but petal presents a largely singular Grande. (It was even her first album to be released through her own imprint label, Babydoll Music, a subsidiary of Republic Records.) The lack of outside voices gave Grande the creative clearance to go “fuck it” and explore arenas she was “too shy or polite to tap into before.” The autobiography works best when Grande just talks her shit.
Vulnerability and Growth
Perhaps in this latest evolution of Ariana Grande, the pop star has found strength in softness. She dons a notably lighter voice as an act of vocal preservation, utilizing it even to shut down the discourse about her body. It’s that quiet authority that permeates the high points of petal. She’s not reinventing any sort of wheel, nor has she marked a benchmark in her pop canon. What she has done, however, is plant creative seeds that could be paths to new sonic landscapes should she let them bloom. Most importantly, Grande has given us a glimpse into how she’s feeling now and the type of whispery yet grounded presence she prefers, one that’s brave enough – and vulnerable enough – to use petals for armor.
In the end, petal is an album that showcases Ariana Grande‘s growth and vulnerability as an artist. While it may not be her best work, it’s a testament to her ability to experiment and push boundaries in her music. With petal, Grande has proven that she’s still a force to be reckoned with in the music industry, and her fans will undoubtedly be eagerly awaiting her next move.
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