“It’s uncomfortable, but I believe that’s where the magic is,” says Lorde, in the only speech she gives on the second of two nights at The O2. And she’s right. The Ultrasound Tour, in support of her fourth album ‘Virgin’, gets you so uncomfortably close, it’s almost voyeuristic, but Lorde wants you to see it all.
Cameras zoom in on every bit of her and blow these details up on the big screen: her eyes with furrowed brows on ‘Buzzcut Season’, her wet torso on ‘GRWM’, her pained expression as she lays on the floor during ‘Supercut’. It’s a perfect reflection of what ‘Virgin’ does.
On each album cycle, Lorde is reborn. She isn’t even 30 yet, but has long been pegged as wise beyond her years, peaking early as a teenage protege on debut ‘Pure Heroine’ and doubling down on the universal acclaim with follow-up heartbroken party girl record ‘Melodrama’. On the pandemic-fuelled ‘Solar Power’, she digitally detoxed and retreated from crowds too, opting for smaller theatre venues on its respective tour. When it came to ‘Virgin’, Lorde fell apart and put herself back together. In that one speech, she reels off the neighbourhoods across London where that occurred.
So Lorde winds up back in the city in the biggest room she’s ever played here, and yet the album she’s touring may be her most intimate. As she emerges from a trap door in the middle of the stage with ‘Hammer’, a blue light recreates the album artwork across her lower abdomen; when she frees herself, she’s thrown back into her usual thrashing, though this time it feels somehow considered and intentional.
The whole show is strikingly choreographed, the set around her deliberately sparse and industrial by contrast. At times, she’s singing into an enormous fan (‘Buzzcut Season’), she paces on a treadmill for ‘Supercut’, there’s little more than a giant speaker setup behind her and a lighting rig above her for most of the show, and the few dancers she brings along perform emotive, contemporary routines around her. When she curls into a fetal position at the end of the stage for ‘Supercut’, or is literally stripped to her underwear during ‘Current Affairs’, it feels more like a performance inspired by Marina Abramovic than any of Lorde’s pop peers.
And despite the personal and intimate nature of it all, it never feels like a gig where the attendees end up shedding tears. In fact, everyone here remains deeply committed to having a good time. Only briefly does the setlist divert from the glitchy electronica and thudding bass found on tracks like ‘Favourite Daughter’, ‘Shapeshifter’ and ‘Broken Glass’, and when it does its for a Lorde to catch her breath for a moment sitting at the end of the stage for the sort-of-ballad section containing ‘Big Star’, ‘Liability’ and ‘Clearblue’.
That pause only intensifies the release, and both ‘What Was That’ and ‘Green Light’ play out with more catharsis than ever as a final blast of euphoria. When the spectacle that is ‘Ultrasound’ is done, Lorde uses the final moments to reconnect with the audience; in what feels like a fourth wall break, she steps down and walks through the crowd for ‘David’, and during ‘Ribs’, she invites two fans to share the B-stage with her to dance.
Where Lorde’s performances have often felt magical and otherworldly, ‘Ultrasound’ shoots for raw, gritty, and overwhelmingly vulnerable. The same artist who hid behind her hair when thrust into the spotlight at 16 is now the one stripped bare in front of 18,000 people. She might be reborn, but it’s clear this isn’t Lorde’s first time.
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