It's the dawn of a new Lorde - dare we say, in her Margaritaville era? - trying to channel her inner chill to mixed results. To abate the bubbling undercurrent of grief and stress, she escapes to the beachside resort in her mind. With Solar Power, she's right in the thick of it: wearied by teenage fame and capitalism, worried about the state of the earth and grieving the loss of her beloved dog Pearl. Nothing moves up a quarter-life crisis quite like a global climate catastrophe and a pandemic, so Lorde's is right on time. She just wants to drink deeply from hers, and for you to do the same from yours. But Lorde does not need her slogan on your mug. Basic recently evolved into the new insult cheugy, which can refer to people who flaunt banality as if it were genius, and it is easy to imagine a version of Solar Power that merits the term by creating cringes rather than connection. Lorde's prioritization of private pleasure over the duties of pop stardom helps explain the parts of Solar Power that don't wow: a clutch of ballads written with such memoirist precision, and such disinterest in big catharsis, that they may exist more for her sake than the listener's. As Solar Powermeditates on the tension between achievement and comfort, it grazes masterpiece status-the only thing holding it back may be Lorde's disinterest in chasing accolades. Lorde the musician, social critic, and diarist has never been sharper, thankfully. Instead we find groovy Grateful Dead guitars, lyrics about loving your dog, and paparazzi shots of a woman proudly striding in a floral midi-dress. Gone are the creepy keyboards and the image of a teen girl with hunched posture in black cloaks. But it does shrug off the baggage that has been placed upon Lorde, upon stardom, and upon happiness itself in the influencer age. Lorde's wonderful third album, Solar Power, is too complex to be basic. But where Mitchell spoke deep desperation into her tales of wealthy women hiding spiritual "darkness with a joyful mask", Lorde just wafts over her pretty, pastichey soundscape without really connecting. Solar Power feels like her 21st-century take on The Hissing of Summer Lawns,the 1975 classic on which Mitchell explored the dark underbelly of privileged suburban Californian lives. Lorde has often spoken of wanting to make music like Joni Mitchell. The palm slap of bongos patter through "Oceanic Feeling", stirring mild memories of All Saints' "Pure Shores" (2000) but lacking the old tune's tidal momentum. There's a little breeze of Natalie Imbruglia in the drive time bop of "Secrets from a Girl (Who's Seen it All)". There's a nod to George Michael's "Faith" (1987) in the stubble-strum and booty-shaker beat of the title track, and a sleepy wink at Katy Perry's "California Gurls" (2010) on "California", with its farewell to "all the bottles, all the models" and slightly Tori Amos-ish falsetto leap in the chorus. Instead of finding fresh new sounds, producer Jack Antonoff has helped her filter trippy 1960s beach vibes through her love of early Noughties hits by S Club 7 and Robbie Williams. But Solar Power finds Lorde swapping her trademark directness for tuneless detachment.