In the lead-up to Dua Lipa’s third album, Radical Optimism, there have been hints the British Albanian pop powerhouse could be heading in a number of different directions. First, there was debut single “Houdini,” a gurgling dance-pop banger with an earworm of a chorus and a minimalist video that showcased Lipa’s finely honed dance skills, followed by “Training Season,” which operated in a similar vein. Then there was “Illusion,” a euphoric, Daft Punk–inflected Europop number with an epic visual of Lipa cavorting around the same Barcelona swimming pool where her forebear Kylie Minogue shot the “Slow” video. Finally, of course, there was her biggest hit of last year: the inescapable “Dance the Night” from the Barbie soundtrack, which saw her continue the disco-infused spirit of her previous album, the critically acclaimed smash hit Future Nostalgia.
Radical Optimism begins with a ripple of aqueous synths—the sonic equivalent of shimmering gold dust—before she calls out, “One, two, three, hey!” and a chugging disco-lite beat kicks off “End of an Era.” Despite what the title might suggest, the song is a glittering, wide-eyed ode to the butterflies-in-stomach feeling of meeting a new lover, delivered with the kind of breezy nonchalance (“Another girl falls in love / Another girl leaves the club,” she sings on the impossibly catchy bridge) that only Lipa can pull off. While the early singles seemed to suggest a change of tack—the “end of an era,” you could say—it quickly becomes apparent that the whispers of a radical pivot on the new album were unfounded. Instead of overhauling her sound, Lipa has refined it—and the results are irresistible.
Once you’ve got through the darker, more industrial sound of “Houdini” and “Training Season,” the record opens up into a kaleidoscopic, summer-ready selection of pop delights. There’s the bittersweet “These Walls,” with its call-and-response chorus charting the dissolution of a toxic relationship, and the lolloping funk bass line and ABBA-esque melodies of “Whatcha Doing,” which sees her question the head-spinning effects of a new lover’s seductions. (“If control is my religion / And I’m headin’ for collision / Lost my 20/20 vision,” she croons.)
While most of the songs seem to chart an old love ending and a new one beginning, it says a lot about Lipa’s ability to balance the intense public interest in her personal life—it only takes a quick Google search to discover who she’s dated over the past few years—with a kind of carefully engineered unknowability. The prevailing (and evidently highly successful) approach to scoring a chart-topping single for the past few years has been to balance the confessional and the cryptic: To sprinkle enough clues and Easter eggs to keep the gossip blogs whirring and their rabid fan bases combing through every lyric, and thus to ensure their place in the public conversation. Instead, on Radical Optimism, Lipa seems to take her cues from a different generation of divas—Minogue being one of them—who have, for the most part, drawn a line in the sand between their songwriting and their personal lives. (Great pop, you could argue, is universal not “relatable.”)
That’s not to say the album doesn’t have personality. More than ever before, Lipa leans into her sense of humor, notably on the deliciously tongue-in-cheek Euro-pudding bangers “French Exit” and “Maria.” The former’s shuffle beat and bouncy guitar line serve as a delightful backdrop to one of the record’s more bonkers moments, as she intones the title in a knowingly silly French accent, while the latter features Spanish guitar and the subtle clack of castanets as she sings her gratitude to the fiery former ex of her current partner for teaching him to be the lover he is today. (You could also argue that the album cover and title in combination carry a touch of wry humor: It would certainly require a very radical sense of optimism to be leaning back and staring down a shark in open water in the casual way Lipa appears to be.)
Elsewhere, that personality comes through in the subtler details—not least the quirks of the production. Much has been made of Lipa’s decision to work almost entirely with the producers Kevin Parker (he of psych-rock Tame Impala fame) and Danny L. Harle (the British avant-pop producer best known for his work with Caroline Polachek and the PC Music collective), as well as songwriters Caroline Ailin (who cowrote “New Rules” and “Don’t Start Now”) and the Adele collaborator Tobias Jesso Jr. It’s an all-star cast of pop mavericks, and you can hear it first and foremost in the production value: Every synth sounds gorgeously glossy, every beat has been programmed with the utmost precision, and the lightly psychedelic touches of flutes and harps on the opening track and “French Exit” sound expensive rather than kitschy. But you can also hear where these artists have nudged Lipa out of her comfort zone, encouraging her to embrace the weirder moments: that wonky but strangely catchy pronunciation of “Hoo-dee-nee”; the way those descending chords on “Illusion” just keep heading downward into the abyss; or most memorably, the caterwauling yodel that opens “Falling Forever.” (“How looooong!”)
As far as pop superstardom trajectories go, Dua Lipa has had one of the most unlikely rises in recent memory. Despite being hotly tipped as the next major British pop act when she first emerged almost a decade ago, it took two years of album promo (and seven singles) before she finally landed a blockbuster hit with her mischievous ode to female friendship, “New Rules,” and its equally playful music video. Then she was poised to dominate 2020 with her sophomore effort, Future Nostalgia, and its slew of irresistible, disco-inflected singles, when the pandemic arrived weeks before its release. Where other artists delayed their albums, Lipa went full speed ahead—and it was the best decision she could have made. Not only did Future Nostalgia become one of the most critically acclaimed albums of the year, it also marked her out as a spectacular performer. Whenever an obstacle has been placed in Lipa’s way, she’s gracefully sidestepped with a wink—and a knowing twist of the hips.
Some might be surprised by Lipa’s decision to double down on the sound of Future Nostalgia. Where she could have simply gone bigger, bolder, brasher, she’s instead gone slicker and more refined, fine-tuning her formula into something impressively self-assured—and perfectly timed as the warmer days of summer begin to roll in. And most important of all? It’s catchy as hell.
