Item: Ritual
Rating: 7
Author: pastemagazine

Wavelength

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Ritual by Icona Pop reviewed by pastemagazine — 7.0/10 | Wavelength | Wavelength

The Swedish duo’s fourth album is at its best a meditation on womanhood and the self, and at its worst, something of a non-event.

Over 28 tightly crafted minutes, the duo find their way back into themselves atop lush keyboards and pulsating beats. While some songs feel like a half-hearted return to the “old” Icona Pop, the album’s more interesting moments are those where its title serves as top inspiration: at its best, the women treat dance music with a somewhat religious revelry, attempting to imbue it with the healing properties they seek in the process. At its worst, Ritual is something of a non-event.

The record begins with breathy synths and artful Auto-Tune on the Caroline Polachek-tinged “Hurt,” which hitches itself to the inhale of a movie soundtrack, as Icona Pop let an errant lover back into their lives. The lyrics also seem to gesture toward their profession: “Although you hurt me / There’s still a heart in my chest,” they croon over a sexy, spacey beat. “Although you hurt me / Everything comes to an end.” On the title song, a sensual, humid thrum underscores Hjelt and Jawo’s efforts to find their bodies again, after motherhood and fame have pulled them away from themselves. “Do you wanna live inside your body? / You need heat, warmth, touch, you gotta dance your ass off,” they murmur, accompanied by Daya as the beat builds behind them.

It’s a new world, one in which dance music can become a canvas for distinctly feminine questions of self-ownership. But the genre’s healing power is hardly new: the biggest albums of the year, from Detour to CONFESSIONS II, have used dance music as a vehicle for feminized self-sovereignty. For Icona Pop, both creating and experiencing that music lets them move past their wounds: “This is my ritual, I do it to survive,” they sing over a rhythm that pulses like an artery.

Ritual’s less inspired moments lose sight of this purpose: they feel less like music Icona Pop have made for themselves than music they think we might easily enjoy. As such, its lows aren’t lows so much as nothingburgers. “Butterfly Feelings,” one of the album’s singles, is unmemorable H&M fare: ‘80s-inflected, lyrically simplistic, tight without ever really being about anything. Ditto to “Cooler,” a dime-a-dozen dance-pop track about the influencer class.

This isn’t to say Ritual’s lighter moments are uniformly meh. “Yellow Top,” a floaty, endorphin-heavy single about sex on vacation—think “Everything is romantic,” but with more of a dance-club vibe—is silly and sweaty, its light cymbal beat giving the song a pleasing rhythmic purity. “Mad Love” is punchy and fun, a hot-breathed ode to dumb love skating along a robotic beat punctuated by catchy claps. “Never Over” is an easy, strobing number with a brain-scratching beat drop. And on the album’s final song, “Foreverness,” spacey beats rise and fall in EDM-inspired sine waves.

Ritual is not at the level of the pop heavy-hitters we’ve enjoyed this summer. Icona Pop are more muted here, less brash and snarling. It’s without the crazed flashes of “I Love It” or the bright-eyed energy of “All Night,” ultimately devoid of any electronic hedonism resembling “Weekend” or the bedlam hooks of “Emergency.” In their place, Hjelt and Jawo take a stab at attacking layered symbolism through brief snippets of contemplation and catchy production. It’s a mixed success, but an admirable shift nonetheless. [Ultra]

Miranda Wollen is a staff writer at Paste and is based in New York City. Follow her @mirandakwollen or email her.

It’s been a big year for popstars who want their dance music infused with the deep and enduring heaviness of successful womanhood: in the past few months alone, we’ve seen emotionally explosive releases from Robyn, Charli, Slayyyter, and Kim, to name a few. Now, Swedish duo Icona Pop is joining the club. Ritual, the band’s fourth album and their first since 2023’s Club Romantech, sees members Caroline Hjelt and Aino Jawo return to their craft in the wake of motherhood, romantic sea changes, and a disorienting but necessary move back to their native Sweden. Over 28 tightly crafted minutes, the duo find their way back into themselves atop lush keyboards and pulsating beats. While some songs feel like a half-hearted return to the “old” Icona Pop, the album’s more interesting moments are those where its title serves as top inspiration: at its best, the women treat dance music with a somewhat religious revelry, attempting to imbue it with the healing properties they seek in the process. At its worst, Ritual is something of a non-event. The record begins with breathy synths and artful Auto-Tune on the Caroline Polachek-tinged “Hurt,” which hitches itself to the inhale of a movie soundtrack, as Icona Pop let an errant lover back into their lives. The lyrics also seem to gesture toward their profession: “Although you hurt me / There’s still a heart in my chest,” they croon over a sexy, spacey beat. “Although you hurt me / Everything comes to an end.” On the title song, a sensual, humid thrum underscores Hjelt and Jawo’s efforts to find their bodies again, after motherhood and fame have pulled them away from themselves. “Do you wanna live inside your body? / You need heat, warmth, touch, you gotta dance your ass off,” they murmur, accompanied by Daya as the beat builds behind them. It’s a new world, one in which dance music can become a canvas for distinctly feminine questions of self-ownership. But the genre’s healing power is hardly new: the biggest albums of the year, from Detour to CONFESSIONS II, have used dance music as a vehicle for feminized self-sovereignty. For Icona Pop, both creating and experiencing that music lets them move past their wounds: “This is my ritual, I do it to survive,” they sing over a rhythm that pulses like an artery. Ritual’s less inspired moments lose sight of this purpose: they feel less like music Icona Pop have made for themselves than music they think we might easily enjoy. As such, its lows aren’t lows so much as nothingburgers. “Butterfly Feelings,” one of the album’s singles, is unmemorable H&M fare: ‘80s-inflected, lyrically simplistic, tight without ever really being about anything. Ditto to “Cooler,” a dime-a-dozen dance-pop track about the influencer class. This isn’t to say Ritual’s lighter moments are uniformly meh. “Yellow Top,” a floaty, endorphin-heavy single about sex on vacation—think “Everything is romantic,” but with more of a dance-club vibe—is silly and sweaty, its light cymbal beat giving the song a pleasing rhythmic purity. “Mad Love” is punchy and fun, a hot-breathed ode to dumb love skating along a robotic beat punctuated by catchy claps. “Never Over” is an easy, strobing number with a brain-scratching beat drop. And on the album’s final song, “Foreverness,” spacey beats rise and fall in EDM-inspired sine waves. Ritual is not at the level of the pop heavy-hitters we’ve enjoyed this summer. Icona Pop are more muted here, less brash and snarling. It’s without the crazed flashes of “I Love It” or the bright-eyed energy of “All Night,” ultimately devoid of any electronic hedonism resembling “Weekend” or the bedlam hooks of “Emergency.” In their place, Hjelt and Jawo take a stab at attacking layered symbolism through brief snippets of contemplation and catchy production. It’s a mixed success, but an admirable shift nonetheless. [Ultra] Miranda Wollen is a staff writer at Paste and is based in New York City. Follow her @mirandakwollen or email her.