The career of Dua Lipa has been fascinating to follow. The British-Albanian artist’s journey kicked off in earnest in 2015 with ‘Be The One’, her first Top 10 hit in the UK, but it was ‘New Rules’ – and its sparkling video – that truly made her name, a leading example of streaming’s long-wave impact on singles. Her 2020 follow-up album ‘Future Nostalgia’, meanwhile, leaked during the first COVID lockdown, but became a critical and commercial smash regardless. That album made her a genuine household name, and she’s since landed cameos in Barbie, Argylle and become one of the most-followed accounts on Instagram.
‘Radical Optimism’, then, comes with considerable expectations. Just last year, her Barbie soundtrack contribution ‘Dance The Night Away’ fought hard for attention against Billie Eilish’s Academy Award-winning ‘What Was I Made For?’. There are tough standards to meet; recent singles ‘Illusion’ and ‘Training Season’ have performed modestly, and Lipa is keen to stress that churning out hits isn’t her focus, she wants the whole album to stand the test of time. It feels unlikely, however, that ‘Radical Optimism’ is that record.
Announcing the album, she made her inspirations for it known: ‘Radical Optimism’ was “psychedelic-pop-infused tribute to UK rave culture”, she said, earmarking trip-hop, Britpop and the works of Massive Attack and Primal Scream. The credits include Kevin Parker – aka Tame Impala – and Tobias Jesso Jr, Danny L Harle, alongside longtime collaborators Caroline Ailin and Ian Kirkpatrick. Even the somewhat Goop-y title comes loaded with meaning, a message. Lipa says ‘Radical Optimism’ relates to the “the idea of going through chaos gracefully and feeling like you can weather any storm.”
If that all sounds like SEO keywords baiting you before listening, there’s little on ‘Radical Optimism’ that will change your opinion. This is a solid pop album – on occasions, a very good one – but also frustratingly passive. Seldom does an artist hype up their upcoming release by downplaying it (aside from Ellie Goulding, who called her latest work her “least personal yet”) but many will finish ‘Radical Optimism’ with a sense of: ‘Is that it?’
First, the good. These songs sound pretty spectacular. The sonics on offer here are some of the most interesting that Lipa has worked on. Parker’s touch is felt keenly: ‘Whatcha Doing’ has the same confidence and retro vibes of ‘Future Nostalgia’, while ‘Houdini’ packs a riff that would hold its own on Tame Impala’s ‘Currents’. The fact that the extended versions of ‘Houdini’ and ‘Training Season’ – both tracks clock in at just-over three minutes – have been left to wallow as streaming bonuses is a great shame.
She’s since referred to that key group of collaborators as ‘the band’, highlighting a shared cohesiveness and understanding of the mood. Swooning opener ‘End Of An Era’ demonstrates that well, and ‘Anything For Love’, featuring studio chatter from the crew, suggests this album has been made with care and, you can tell, a lot of fun.
But look beyond that, you might feel short-changed. It’s at the mercy of the “all killer, no filler” demands that has permeated the pop sphere (Taylor Swift’s recent 31-epic aside), too many of these songs come and go and leave little impact. Seldom are we told anything meaningful about either the subject or its creator. ‘Illusion’ is the biggest culprit, its chorus devoid of a melodic or narrative pay-off: “Ooh, what you doin’? Don’t know who you think that you’re confusin’/ I be like, “Ooh, it’s amusin’ / You think I’m gonna fall for an illusion”.
It only exposes how limited all of these songs are: Lipa has been wronged, her lover must make amends or it’s time to dance the pain away and simply walk out the door. ‘These Walls’ calls time on another relationship, saying that if “these four walls could talk, they’d say you know you’re fucked”, a trope deployed more effectively by Halsey on their 2017 track ‘Walls Could Talk’.
And if you were to take Lipa’s aforementioned affinity for trip-hop and Britpop to heart, you would be hard-pressed to find any discernible links. Massive Attack’s ‘Blue Lines’ and ‘Mezzanine’ sought to merge genres – dub, electronic, hip-hop – to represent Bristol’s diverse creative community. Oasis’ ‘Definitely Maybe’ soared with working-class ambition, Blur and Pulp fused wry commentary and tender, personal songwriting.
The UK’s mythologised rave culture in the late ‘80s was as a response to a decade of Tory rule and the burgeoning impact of music from the US’ key house scenes. ‘Radical Optimism’ is, by comparison, insular and keen to capture the highs and lows of a personal relationship and little beyond that. Perhaps it’s unfair to hold Lipa too strongly against what might have been a throwaway comment in a profile too literally, but ‘Radical Optimism’ offers little else to latch on.
Later this summer, she’ll headline Glastonbury for the first time and also top the bill at a string of European festivals. It’s the kind of place where ‘Radical Optimism’ might thrive: the album’s beachy vibes feel suited to a festival field’s carefree disposition. You just wish there was a little more to these songs.
