Item: petal
Rating: 6.5
Author: pastemagazine

Wavelength

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petal by Ariana Grande reviewed by pastemagazine — 6.5/10 | Wavelength | Wavelength

Despite some minor sonic surprises, the pop superstar’s latest offering is strangely dull and muted, lacking the personality, sensuality, and energy of her previous work.

Despite that hilarious AI song that’s been floating around Twitter, petal does not sound like background music for a Barbie Princess video game. Rather, it’s a middling pop record that briefly flirts with unexpected aesthetic flourishes but mostly underwhelms as it cycles through well-trodden thematic and sonic terrain. Even with longtime collaborators Max Martin and Ilya Salmanzadeh, Grande’s subdued arrangements and downcast lyrics struggle to stick. Her voice lacks its usual verve, rarely moving toward the stirring, soulful high-pitched range she’s known for and instead frequently melting into a softer, inoffensive falsetto. Grande has sometimes gotten flak for coming off as unintelligible in some of her songs, and typically she gets away with it through the charisma of her honeyed coo and the hypnotic pull of the instrumentation surrounding it. On petal, however, that indecipherability has the opposite effect, with the sound mix often burying her vocals, making them slipperier and more indistinct than ever.

Additionally, petal is missing a compelling emotional center, as its vague platitudes about severing negative attachments (romantic, professional, or otherwise) drift aimlessly within Martin and Salmanzadeh’s aquatic production. Positions and eternal sunshine had their flaws, but both albums felt conceptually sturdy—with the former whittling the steamier parts of Sweetener and thank u, next down to their purest essence, and the latter grappling with the emotional messiness of Grande’s post-divorce blues. Conversely, petal’s ideas are uncharacteristically tame and meek compared to the emotional clarity and stylistic precision in Grande’s previous work. The album’s looser, stripped-down design also echoes an ongoing trend of pop stars releasing deconstructed work in an attempt to present a rawer version of themselves, and while it is certainly not as self-indulgent as something like The Tortured Poets Department, petal is equally as nondescript and anemic.

Take the album’s lead single “hate that i made you love me,” a semi-catchy track that could technically be about Grande’s highly publicized romance with Wicked co-star Ethan Slater or a general discomfort with the constant rumors around her relationships, but her detached, autopilot delivery keeps the subject matter emotionally at arm’s length. Grande has said she wants listeners to draw their own conclusions about the single’s meaning, but a crucial part of her appeal has always been the specificity of her writing and the emotional command of her performances. Without either, the song ultimately sinks.

In that same interview, Grande also alluded to petal being “a little feral” and while there she occasionally nudges her formula in new directions, those experimental impulses either don’t build into anything particularly memorable or end up overshadowing Grande’s presence altogether. “oh well,” for instance, initially delights with its crystalline drum ‘n’ bass breakbeats—a first for Grande—but their novelty isn’t enough to elevate the song’s bland kiss-off to bad guys. Similarly, “freak”’s atmospheric instrumental intrigues with its reverb-heavy dissonance, but Grande makes another too-ambiguous gesture toward either her fans or past lovers (“I won’t give you your fantasy this time”) that once again keeps things at an emotional distance. This overly light touch feels especially wrong on “big feelings” when juxtaposed against the song’s bouncy piano riff and saucy come-ons.

Even in its brief instances of stylistic flair, petal is ultimately undermined by a reliance on familiar tropes from Grande’s own arsenal. Despite its distorted, grungy guitars, “like i do” feels less like a genuine reinvention than a rock-tinged rewrite of “7 rings,” borrowing its sassy beat, defiant attitude (“I’m making friends with my consequence”), and theatrical taunts (“extra extra”). The title track reaches for a similarly sinister swagger, but its opening thwack too closely echoes the ominous keyboard motif that introduced the thank u, next hit. Rather than reframing those earlier ideas, both songs simply recall them, demanding an intensity that Grande never quite summons, as her voice frequently gets lost in the album’s muted minimalism.

The only tracks that both contain a semblance of life and sustain it by actually trying something new arrive at the very end of petal. The penultimate track, “bad things (bunny hop),” is an eruptive, electric guitar-driven bop in the vein of SOS-era SZA that finally delivers on the album’s nineties-tinged alt-rock ambitions. Closer “nowhere, nobody” is a sentimental ballad elevated by Grande’s Imogen Heap-esque self-harmonies and the return of those breakbeats. They’re the most impassioned performances on the album, which only underscores how listless everything before them feels. As much as I want to buy into the fuck-it rage and ferocity Grande aims to channel here, petal pulls too many punches for that impulse to resonate. [Republic]

Sam Rosenberg is a filmmaker and freelance entertainment writer from Los Angeles with bylines in The Daily Beast, Consequence, AltPress, and Metacritic. You can find them on X @samiamrosenberg.

Like every pop star, each of Ariana Grande’s eras has its own distinct identity. Her first three records charted a seamless progression, from the PG-13 doo-wop of 2013’s Yours Truly to the edgy sensuality and soaring bangers of 2014’s My Everything and 2016’s Dangerous Woman. 2018’s Sweetener and 2019’s thank u, next were marked by joy and exploration in the face of tragedy and loss, with the lush, warm, irreverent R&B-pop of both records revealing newer and deeper layers within Grande’s template. And 2020’s Positions and 2024’s eternal sunshine saw her searching for peace and stability with mixed results, doling out a few solid tracks but mostly treading static waters. On her eighth album, petal, Grande remains stuck in this restrained phase of her career, resulting in her weakest and least inspired effort to date. Despite that hilarious AI song that’s been floating around Twitter, petal does not sound like background music for a Barbie Princess video game. Rather, it’s a middling pop record that briefly flirts with unexpected aesthetic flourishes but mostly underwhelms as it cycles through well-trodden thematic and sonic terrain. Even with longtime collaborators Max Martin and Ilya Salmanzadeh, Grande’s subdued arrangements and downcast lyrics struggle to stick. Her voice lacks its usual verve, rarely moving toward the stirring, soulful high-pitched range she’s known for and instead frequently melting into a softer, inoffensive falsetto. Grande has sometimes gotten flak for coming off as unintelligible in some of her songs, and typically she gets away with it through the charisma of her honeyed coo and the hypnotic pull of the instrumentation surrounding it. On petal, however, that indecipherability has the opposite effect, with the sound mix often burying her vocals, making them slipperier and more indistinct than ever. Additionally, petal is missing a compelling emotional center, as its vague platitudes about severing negative attachments (romantic, professional, or otherwise) drift aimlessly within Martin and Salmanzadeh’s aquatic production. Positions and eternal sunshine had their flaws, but both albums felt conceptually sturdy—with the former whittling the steamier parts of Sweetener and thank u, next down to their purest essence, and the latter grappling with the emotional messiness of Grande’s post-divorce blues. Conversely, petal’s ideas are uncharacteristically tame and meek compared to the emotional clarity and stylistic precision in Grande’s previous work. The album’s looser, stripped-down design also echoes an ongoing trend of pop stars releasing deconstructed work in an attempt to present a rawer version of themselves, and while it is certainly not as self-indulgent as something like The Tortured Poets Department, petal is equally as nondescript and anemic. Take the album’s lead single “hate that i made you love me,” a semi-catchy track that could technically be about Grande’s highly publicized romance with Wicked co-star Ethan Slater or a general discomfort with the constant rumors around her relationships, but her detached, autopilot delivery keeps the subject matter emotionally at arm’s length. Grande has said she wants listeners to draw their own conclusions about the single’s meaning, but a crucial part of her appeal has always been the specificity of her writing and the emotional command of her performances. Without either, the song ultimately sinks. In that same interview, Grande also alluded to petal being “a little feral” and while there she occasionally nudges her formula in new directions, those experimental impulses either don’t build into anything particularly memorable or end up overshadowing Grande’s presence altogether. “oh well,” for instance, initially delights with its crystalline drum ‘n’ bass breakbeats—a first for Grande—but their novelty isn’t enough to elevate the song’s bland kiss-off to bad guys. Similarly, “freak”’s atmospheric instrumental intrigues with its reverb-heavy dissonance, but Grande makes another too-ambiguous gesture toward either her fans or past lovers (“I won’t give you your fantasy this time”) that once again keeps things at an emotional distance. This overly light touch feels especially wrong on “big feelings” when juxtaposed against the song’s bouncy piano riff and saucy come-ons. Even in its brief instances of stylistic flair, petal is ultimately undermined by a reliance on familiar tropes from Grande’s own arsenal. Despite its distorted, grungy guitars, “like i do” feels less like a genuine reinvention than a rock-tinged rewrite of “7 rings,” borrowing its sassy beat, defiant attitude (“I’m making friends with my consequence”), and theatrical taunts (“extra extra”). The title track reaches for a similarly sinister swagger, but its opening thwack too closely echoes the ominous keyboard motif that introduced the thank u, next hit. Rather than reframing those earlier ideas, both songs simply recall them, demanding an intensity that Grande never quite summons, as her voice frequently gets lost in the album’s muted minimalism. The only tracks that both contain a semblance of life and sustain it by actually trying something new arrive at the very end of petal. The penultimate track, “bad things (bunny hop),” is an eruptive, electric guitar-driven bop in the vein of SOS-era SZA that finally delivers on the album’s nineties-tinged alt-rock ambitions. Closer “nowhere, nobody” is a sentimental ballad elevated by Grande’s Imogen Heap-esque self-harmonies and the return of those breakbeats. They’re the most impassioned performances on the album, which only underscores how listless everything before them feels. As much as I want to buy into the fuck-it rage and ferocity Grande aims to channel here, petal pulls too many punches for that impulse to resonate. [Republic] Sam Rosenberg is a filmmaker and freelance entertainment writer from Los Angeles with bylines in The Daily Beast, Consequence, AltPress, and Metacritic. You can find them on X @samiamrosenberg.