Eve Jones examines Lorde’s latest album, Melodrama. Eve is a 19-year-old writer and waitress from Plymouth. Obsessive by nature, she’s always in pursuit of some delicious syntax. This is her first article for Boshemia.
Lorde: explorations of youth and power
In 2013, Lorde, aka Ella Yelich-O’Connor, released her debut album Pure Heroine. Its popularity was hailed by Clash as proof that ‘there’s still an intellectual, polished and important place for pop [music]’. She was 16 at the time. Four years on, Lorde launches back into our minds with Melodrama, which still buzzes with that potential energy—though it hasn’t all been plain-sailing. In a recent interview with The Guardian, she likened her fame-riddled celebrity friendships to ‘having a friend with an autoimmune disease’—‘there are certain places you can’t go together. Certain things you can’t do’. The insensitive analogy received backlash from fans, prompting Lorde to apologise on Twitter. While her conduct has been controversial, her music continues to question youth and power in a dynamic habitat of scorched harmonies, flinty 80s keyboard and lyrical wit.
Winding through the tourist scattered streets of Málaga on a Sunday afternoon, sun beating down on me, I headed to El Centre de Pompidou, a smaller branch of the world famous contemporary art gallery in Paris. Making my way through the gallery, I stumbled across many striking exhibits, such as ‘Self Portraits’ which featured feminist icon Frida Kahlo’s The Frame (1938), as well as a sincerely thought provoking exhibit, ‘The Man Without A Face’. However, it was the gallery’s segment for ‘The Political Body’ that struck my attention most. This is where I discovered Sigalit Landau, an incredible Israeli female artist who uses video, sculpting, installation and her own body to create political art. Her art was astounding, but her message was even better.
Bo-Arts is an ongoing arts and creative writing initiative to give a larger audience to emerging creatives. Our goal is to provide a platform for feminist artists to share and discuss their work.
This selection of poetry is brought to you by Jenny Moran. Jenny is an Irish student and writer, who wants to repeal the eighth, dismantle the bourgeois state, and end the DP estate #fuckAvoca. She co-founded Trinity College Dublin’s feminist journal “nemesis” in 2016, and has been previously published by Icarus, Campus.ie, and Unpredictapple.
Throughout the month of June Boshemia will be publishing letters addressed to the most romantic month of the year. This letter is from contributor Taylor Wear.
My dearest June,
You are the stubborn, petulant daughter of the summer months, precocious and freckle-nosed, limber arms crossed over your little chest, one dusty sneakered foot in front of the other. You flatly refuse to be tamed–insist on everything you want.
You come around, June, but always in secret, and only in balmy, seductive weather. The dreary conscientiousness of wintertime just isn’t your scene. Give you barefoot nights, lightning bugs, lemonade. You appear in a firework, sit on my shoulder for a wondrous thirty days, a voice, in between smacks of bubblegum, that I can only describe as a raspy schoolgirl falsetto telling me to geez, just do it already .
You blow a saccharine bubble, it pops in my ear, and I make yet another poor, marvelous decision.
What on God’s green earth am I going to do with you?
Throughout the month of June Boshemia will be publishing letters addressed to the most romantic month of the year. This letter is from contributor Maura Reiff.
I am confused by you. How rapid you have approached. With your arrival, you have brought back cerulean skies and blossoms of life. As I walk among the Pittsburgh crowd I feel your embrace again, June. Was it not just February? For February was full of heartbreak chased with tequila gold shots. At first, I was not sure if you would arrive, or for that matter, if I could survive the coldness of this past winter. I can say that I have missed you and am delighted to see you. Thank you for shining your golden light on my Memorial Day kissed shoulders.
Throughout the month of June Boshemia will be publishing letters addressed to the most romantic month of the year. This letter is from long-time contributor Elisha Kiriel.
Your beginning has met the tail-end of an era that, at one point in my life, I hoped I would never have to leave behind. You have brought me challenges that remind me of the exponential strength of human will. You have taught me lessons in patience, autonomy, and self-love. You have brought me a newly burgeoning sense of identity. Most importantly, you have kept me company in a place I can only refer to as Pacifying Loneliness. It is a destination, at which I have arrived after years of loneliness which germinated in company that diminished my psyche and identity; that made me feel invisible. This new loneliness is pacifying because, though it is a perpetual, aching, heart-sigh, I have full ownership of it. I have settled here. It has become home. It is mine; mine alone.