As an “idea record”, eternal sunshine it's not as cohesive a divorce record as, say, Adele's 30, but Grande sneaks in some interesting threads regardless. The meta-narrative of the public and the media as her fickle and unappreciative lovers is a subtext that runs through eternal sunshine, with “yes, and?” as the most clapped out against the anti-social mouths who speculate on her private life. Grande is clearly enjoying her ability to twist the knife as a songwriter. Some of her most poignant and funny lines come as she plays out the spectacle of her divorce in all its horror: seemingly referring to her marriage as a “situation” (“I don't want to break up again”), alluding to cheating (“eternal sunshine” ), spreading blatant misinformation (“true story”), and finally giving us the wonderful couplet “Your business is yours and mine is mine/Why do you care so much whose **** I drive?” To her credit, she not only lived up to Mariah's initial comparisons vocally, but has a strain of surreal humor and unabashed weirdness that informs so much of her music.
During a production lull Bad prompted by the SAG strike, Grande flew to New York and assembled her usual cast of collaborators, including Max Martin, Shintaro Yasuda and Ilya Salmanzadeh, albeit with the notable absence of longtime songwriting partner Tayla Parx and Victoria Monet. The record splits between the pillowy, mid-tempo R&B we've come to expect from Ari and some interesting but choppy left turns. The leak and subsequent TikTok virality of her song “Fantasize” inspired Grande to release her own take on elaborate Y2K production with “the boy is mine,” an exquisite precision track with stuttering, fancy synths that leave plenty of atmosphere for her voice to soar. Other bloom types are less successful. The disco instrumental of 'bye' has a one-dimensional feel to it that mirrors her vocal brilliance, and the alt-rock strum of 'imperfect for you' suggests we're getting an anthem, but barely above a lullaby.
In contrast with Seatswhere Grande flaunted the full extent of her range with whistling notes and filigree melisma on almost every track, eternal sunshine it is an exercise in self-restraint. Aside from the hot R&B fireworks of “true story,” there's very little intense belting on display, but her talent as an arranger shines through with some absolutely gorgeous harmonies across the board. On songs like the title track and “We Can't Be Friends,” Grande adopts a pained tone reminiscent of her hero Imogen Heap, simultaneously conveying a bruising power and underscoring her underrated ability to convey subtler colors with her her voice. The knockoff of the latest Robyn beat wouldn't be nearly as impressive without Grande's wonderfully wounded performance, and what she does with “Know that you made me/I don't like the way you paint me, but I'm still here hanging,” as if she was pierced by her ex's misunderstanding in real time.
Grande's lyrics don't always match the complexity of her vocals, occasionally settling for stock phrases (“I'll play the villain if you need me to”) or scrambling for syllables (on “I Don't Wanna Break Up Again,” she rhymes “codependency ” with “treatment”). Between the absence of Monét and Parx, her new delivery, and Max Martin's more obviously canned instrumentals, a less generous interpretation would be to wonder if the limits of her songwriting didn't limit her more vocal pyrotechnics. But from another perspective, it's interesting to think of her choices as a step toward becoming a fundamentally different kind of singer. In an interview with Zach Sang, Grande emphasized the importance of distinguishing between herself as a person and as a pop star, and this more restrained, less ostentatious register could very well be the ticket, a carefully considered adjustment to protect of her hard feeling. self.
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