If the refrain of MARINA’s song “CUNTISSIMO” didn’t drop your jaw upon first listen, that’s only because its synthline smacked you in the kisser first. The April single from singer-songwriter Marina Diamandis begins with a defibrillator shock of electro-pop: a quivering beat so robust that it softens Diamandis sprinkling the c-word with faux Italian flair. It’s a level of aggression we haven’t seen from the Welsh artist since her lauded Electra Heart era and the height of Tumblr. Her platinum blonde curls and the black star inked on her cheek in the song’s music video—reminiscent of, but not identical to her appearance on the cover of Electra Heart—seemed to hint that MARINA would reprise her beloved “Bubblegum Bitch” attitude for her latest record, PRINCESS OF POWER.
But that would have been too good to be true. It also would have been woefully uninventive. Instead, MARINA’s sixth LP relishes every stage of life from Diamandis’ vantage point as a 39-year-old woman: the girlish whims, an infatuated adolescence, both eventually trumped by her unbothered and pleasure-seeking adulthood. It’s a non-linear work that flits between cutesy simplicity and heel-on-your-neck assertion, two mindsets that tumble into each other as Diamandis twists her kaleidoscope of vibrant synth-pop. But the ride is no less fun for its perpetual motion; if anything, the giddy dizziness that blurs Diamandis’ age is PRINCESS OF POWER’s best case for the throne. The album’s firm anchor to the present is “CUNTISSIMO,” an instant career highlight for Diamandis. Pulsing with confidence via indifference, the single delights in amorous trips to Lake Como, puffing on luxury cigarettes, and blowing off exes. Perhaps there’s no better (or more bluntly-spoken) reminder that decadent thrills can continue throughout adulthood and do not, in fact, shrivel up and disintegrate past your mid-30s.
It’s far easier, though, to notice where Diamandis retreats into girlish frames of mind. Directly preceding the champagne-swilling “CUNTISSIMO” is the first single “BUTTERFLY,” which drew some criticism for its cloying, childlike chorus. “Yeah, I’m a butterfly / You just never see my energy,” she sings on a pitched-to-heaven chorus, effectively merging the interests of 8-year-olds and people who post their crystal collections on Instagram. A similar sickly-sweet tone saturates the bridge of “FINAL BOSS” and punctuates the title track, which peppers its post-chorus with squeals of “Big love! Big aura!” These twee twists are like snaps of bubblegum in your face; a brash, acquired taste, but ultimately a sugar high worth chasing. Elsewhere, playful flourishes of lace and lust rekindle the naivete and untamed sensuality of Diamandis’ Electra Heart era. “JE NE SAIS QUOI” traipses around cabaret-esque pop, worshiping a crush at the level of a lovestruck teen (who else would say “You’re hotter than God” unironically?). Infatuation surfaces again on the ballad “HELLO KITTY,” which claws at camp, but whose wordplay never quite scratches the itch for kitsch.
Unsurprisingly, the boldest moments from PRINCESS OF POWER are those that echo Diamandis’ unflinching womanhood at 39, à la “CUNTISSIMO.” “I <3 YOU” is a frothy, disco-lite anthem for peacocking on the dance floor, while “DIGITAL FANTASY” offers a tropicalia-tinged take on ditching a lover who can’t separate the “real you” from the public marquee of social media. And with a single line—“Spread me like a picnic on the floor in the forest”—“ROLLERCOASTER” serves up the savory desire that Katy Perry’s ill-fated single “Bon Appétit” failed to achieve eight years ago.
It’s curious to consider why PRINCESS OF POWER didn’t stick strictly to this more mature plane. But in lieu of that dissertation, you could just copy and paste the lyrics of the penultimate track “ADULT GIRL,” a ballad corralling bows, hearts, sullen boys, and “messy numb razors and knives, missed arteries and blacked-out nights.” It is MARINA at every age and era, crammed into one emotionally fraught limbo. “Think I’m stuck somewhere between childhood and va-va-voom / Always cycling in between existential dread and doom,” she sings over a soft piano melody, pleading for an exit from the sweet ‘n’ suicidal vortex. A child or teenager might wait for an outside party to swoop in with a solution; a woman will likely write her own. She might even give it a nondescript title that harnesses both ends of the chaos—fantasy and autonomy—and hope the outside world can appreciate the complexity. Or at the very least, dance along.
Victoria Wasylak is an award-winning music journalist, a music columnist for The Boston Globe, and the Boston music editor of Vanyaland. Her work has appeared in Paste, NYLON, GRAMMY.com, WBUR, and Under The Radar, and she’s written over a dozen episodes of the world-renowned music and true crime podcast, Disgraceland. She appeared in Forbes’ inaugural 30 Under 30 list for Boston in 2023.
