AM I the only one that thinks LORDE is a brilliant mktg play? I'm not saying that I don't like what I've heard, because you certainly can't avoid her. The publicity machine is in overkill and IMHO she should put some reign on that. I loved 'Royals' UNTIL it was shoved in my ears everywhere I went and now with the TV campaign - uhhhh.

"Let's call her LORDe (real name Ella bla bla), let's sell pure heroine and let's say she's only 16". Sounds like brilliant wrecka marketing.

Sure doesn't look 16 to me.

latenightwithjimmyfallon.com/video/lorde-royals/n41420 …

Glad to hear this nd33. Can't deny the talent, but I still say she doesn't look 16.

Red said:

No marketing ploy, my friend... I got the album (in stores). It's real.

Timmy84 said:

No marketing ploy, my friend... I got the album (in stores). It's real.

I think it's going to end up as my most-played album of the year. I can't remember the last time that happened with a big Billboard smash like that for me.

One of the things I love most about it: there's a sense of mystery, in the music, the lyrics and even in her. So much nice to hear pop music where you have to do some work to fill in the blanks, even if you generally get what she's talking about.

mynameisnotsusan said:

I thought the album was a bunch of computer generated shit and kind of disgusting, in an exploitative way. This young innocent sounding girl fantasizing about fame and money throughout the experience with cheap sounding "beats" and repetitive, corny lyrics. Typical 2010s famewhore garbage for aging gay men and clueless young women, both demographics hopelessly shallow full of disposable income.

I got an invitation to some big gay circuit party thing that she was performing at here in NYC... I thought "wow this girl is 16, a few years ago she was likely coloring in books and combing doll hair and now she is performing songs about her little girl fantasies at a circuit party".

I know "Royals" is meant to be a 'fantasy' to all these deep thinkers that listen to Clear Channel but the hit song literally advertises how many products?

This chick is gonna fade like a sand castle.

mynameisnotsusan said:

I also get the feeling she's so smart, she'll get bored and move on to something else.

Hopefully that something else will be something productive like a real career.

nd33 said:

She certainly has the freedom to do what she likes, now that she's set, financially.

This. Yeah all one hit wonders get paid enough to live forever on caviar, Fiji water, and unicorn farts.

[Edited 10/17/13 10:27am]

nd33 said:

mynameisnotsusan said:

I do find it slightly amazing that a record company sees a 12 year old school talent show video and decides to sign a development deal based on it. Universal has definitely struck gold with her though. Pure Heroine captures that spirit and super confidence of being a know-it-all teen in such a smart way. I've been playing it nonstop - and skipping Royals because it's so played out but it works together as an album really well. I really hope she withdraws from interviews and media and focuses on writing and building up her catalogue and repertoire over the next couple of years but I also get the feeling she's so smart, she'll get bored and move on to something else.

I got the same impression from talking with her teacher, it's likely she might shift to another artistic endeavor. She certainly has the freedom to do what she likes, now that she's set, financially. Re: the development deal. Sounds like Universals involvement was fairly passive up until Royals. They basically linked her up with different producers and stayed out the way, it seems, until she clicked with the producer of the album, Joel Little (who I'd heard of from being in a local pop/punk band - quite a change in style!). Kudos to Universal New Zealand for biding their time, letting her develop her songwriting at her own pace and letting the golden collaboration come about organically. [Edited 10/17/13 7:24am]

I have to be honest, if they had put her out at 12, I wouldn't have given it a listen at all.

Timmy84 said:

jeidee said:

I thought the album was a bunch of computer generated shit and kind of disgusting, in an exploitative way. This young innocent sounding girl fantasizing about fame and money throughout the experience with cheap sounding "beats" and repetitive, corny lyrics. Typical 2010s famewhore garbage for aging gay men and clueless young women, both demographics hopelessly shallow full of disposable income.

I got an invitation to some big gay circuit party thing that she was performing at here in NYC... I thought "wow this girl is 16, a few years ago she was likely coloring in books and combing doll hair and now she is performing songs about her little girl fantasies at a circuit party".

I know "Royals" is meant to be a 'fantasy' to all these deep thinkers that listen to Clear Channel but the hit song literally advertises how many products?

This chick is gonna fade like a sand castle.

mynameisnotsusan said:

I also get the feeling she's so smart, she'll get bored and move on to something else.

Hopefully that something else will be something productive like a real career.

nd33 said:

She certainly has the freedom to do what she likes, now that she's set, financially.

This. Yeah all one hit wonders get paid enough to live forever on caviar, Fiji water, and unicorn farts.

[Edited 10/17/13 10:27am]

If you pay attention to the lyrics, she'scritiquing shallow, fame-obsessed culture, and pointing out how removed it is from everyday living.

Also - way to stereotype aging gay men and then admit you went to a circuit party

MendesCity said:

jeidee said:

I thought the album was a bunch of computer generated shit and kind of disgusting, in an exploitative way. This young innocent sounding girl fantasizing about fame and money throughout the experience with cheap sounding "beats" and repetitive, corny lyrics. Typical 2010s famewhore garbage for aging gay men and clueless young women, both demographics hopelessly shallow full of disposable income.

I got an invitation to some big gay circuit party thing that she was performing at here in NYC... I thought "wow this girl is 16, a few years ago she was likely coloring in books and combing doll hair and now she is performing songs about her little girl fantasies at a circuit party".

I know "Royals" is meant to be a 'fantasy' to all these deep thinkers that listen to Clear Channel but the hit song literally advertises how many products?

This chick is gonna fade like a sand castle.

mynameisnotsusan said:

I also get the feeling she's so smart, she'll get bored and move on to something else.

Hopefully that something else will be something productive like a real career.

nd33 said:

She certainly has the freedom to do what she likes, now that she's set, financially.

This. Yeah all one hit wonders get paid enough to live forever on caviar, Fiji water, and unicorn farts.

[Edited 10/17/13 10:27am]

If you pay attention to the lyrics, she'scritiquing shallow, fame-obsessed culture, and pointing out how removed it is from everyday living.

Also - way to stereotype aging gay men and then admit you went to a circuit party

I find it odd that she is criticizing fame while trying to obtain it. She seems to say that pop culture is fantasy and that we need a real aternative. But doesn't she realize she is a fantasy no different than a Rhianna or a Katy Perry. If you want to interject reality into culture don't become a pop star. She should be looking at a band like Pussy Riot for inspiration.

Anyway, people seem more impressed with her lyrics than the music or her singing. Maybe she has a better future as a writer or poet.

Her songs are ok i guess, i don't find them intensely annoying or anything, but just kinda too minimal and nothing special at all, with very little melody, i'm a little confused how she got to number 1....

Maybe she is, maybe she isn't. All I know is that I can't fuck with a singer born in 1996. That was damn near yesterday.

MendesCity said:

lrn36 said:

nd33 said:

lrn36 said:

I find it odd that she is criticizing fame while trying to obtain it. She seems to say that pop culture is fantasy and that we need a real aternative. But doesn't she realize she is a fantasy no different than a Rhianna or a Katy Perry. If you want to interject reality into culture don't become a pop star. She should be looking at a band like Pussy Riot for inspiration.

Anyway, people seem more impressed with her lyrics than the music or her singing. Maybe she has a better future as a writer or poet.

I wouldn't be so fast to assume that fame is her goal. From what she says in her interviews, she loves writing and creating music. Her whole album was created entirely by her and a little known producer and the two of them simply "made music that WE liked". Don't become a pop star? Her music started out on the alternative student radio stations as the beginning of this year. Is it her fault that it became popular? She certainly wasn't expecting to be number one in the USA. I suggest reading and watching some interviews before making such assumptions. I think you'd change your opinion.

She signed to Universal not exactly an independent label. If fame isn't her goal, then dont promote the album, dont go on talk shows, and dont criticize other acts. Her whole image is I hate the game, but here she is playing the game. She's becoming everything she is against. Young girls will look up to and fantasize about being her in the same way they do for Rhianna, Taylor Swift, Lady Gaga, and Katy Perry.

I just cant stand the "I'm above all this" attitude even though she is gaining all the benefits. Either she is incredibly young and naive or a brilliiant marketing strategist. If Lorde really wants girls not to fall for this fantasy image then tell them to go read Malala Yousafzai's book I Am Malala. Now there is a real, thoughful, and brave 16 year old you can admire.

[Edited 10/20/13 11:16am]

lrn36 said:

nd33 said:

lrn36 said: I wouldn't be so fast to assume that fame is her goal. From what she says in her interviews, she loves writing and creating music. Her whole album was created entirely by her and a little known producer and the two of them simply "made music that WE liked". Don't become a pop star? Her music started out on the alternative student radio stations as the beginning of this year. Is it her fault that it became popular? She certainly wasn't expecting to be number one in the USA. I suggest reading and watching some interviews before making such assumptions. I think you'd change your opinion.

She signed to Universal not exactly an independent label. If fame isn't her goal, then dont promote the album, dont go on talk shows, and dont criticize other acts. Her whole image is I hate the game, but here she is playing the game. She's becoming everything she is against. Young girls will look up to and fantasize about being her in the same way they do for Rhianna, Taylor Swift, Lady Gaga, and Katy Perry.

I just cant stand the "I'm above all this" attitude even though she is gaining all the benefits. Either she is incredibly young and naive or a brilliiant marketing strategist. If Lorde really wants girls not to fall for this fantasy image then tell them to go read Malala Yousafzai's book I Am Malala. Now there is a real, thoughful, and brave 16 year old you can admire.

[Edited 10/20/13 11:16am]

Universal not an indy label indeed, but it was a development deal, which basically meant "we want dibs on you in case you turn out good". There was no money piled into recording (hence they produced/recorded/mixed it at Joels modest home studio). There was no marketing strategy when her song hit number one on the student radio station here. Just a whole bunch of people who liked it. She even was allowed to get her way and release her EP with Royals on it for free at the start of the year (against the will of the label). She just wanted people to hear her music.

RE: the fame thing. She tried for as long as possible to not release any photos of herself and to let her music do the talking. She managed to do this and still get to number one in New Zealand and Australia. There were 0 press shots released officially and on her website was simply a drawing that a friend did of her likeness. By the time her music was climbing up the US charts, it became impossible to avoid and I'd say the label pushed her into it.

New Zealand is so far away from the USA in culture, I think it's hard for us to comprehend that a pop star can come up to this kind of quick success without being calculated from top to bottom by old men in suits.

Why shouldn't she criticise other pop acts lyrics? I think it's well over due. The only people criticising are Sinead O'Connor and Madonna. They're not exactly reaching the youth with their message. Ya can't blame someone for being honest!

BTW, have you noticed the way she dresses?

nd33 said:

lrn36 said:

She signed to Universal not exactly an independent label. If fame isn't her goal, then dont promote the album, dont go on talk shows, and dont criticize other acts. Her whole image is I hate the game, but here she is playing the game. She's becoming everything she is against. Young girls will look up to and fantasize about being her in the same way they do for Rhianna, Taylor Swift, Lady Gaga, and Katy Perry.

I just cant stand the "I'm above all this" attitude even though she is gaining all the benefits. Either she is incredibly young and naive or a brilliiant marketing strategist. If Lorde really wants girls not to fall for this fantasy image then tell them to go read Malala Yousafzai's book I Am Malala. Now there is a real, thoughful, and brave 16 year old you can admire.

[Edited 10/20/13 11:16am]

Universal not an indy label indeed, but it was a development deal, which basically meant "we want dibs on you in case you turn out good". There was no money piled into recording (hence they produced/recorded/mixed it at Joels modest home studio). There was no marketing strategy when her song hit number one on the student radio station here. Just a whole bunch of people who liked it. She even was allowed to get her way and release her EP with Royals on it for free at the start of the year (against the will of the label). She just wanted people to hear her music.

RE: the fame thing. She tried for as long as possible to not release any photos of herself and to let her music do the talking. She managed to do this and still get to number one in New Zealand and Australia. There were 0 press shots released officially and on her website was simply a drawing that a friend did of her likeness. By the time her music was climbing up the US charts, it became impossible to avoid and I'd say the label pushed her into it.

New Zealand is so far away from the USA in culture, I think it's hard for us to comprehend that a pop star can come up to this kind of quick success without being calculated from top to bottom by old men in suits.

Why shouldn't she criticise other pop acts lyrics? I think it's well over due. The only people criticising are Sinead O'Connor and Madonna. They're not exactly reaching the youth with their message. Ya can't blame someone for being honest!

BTW, have you noticed the way she dresses?

Well, I read that she met with Dr Luke, the guy who produced hits for Nickii Minaj, Katy Perry, and Rhianna. She also wants to work with Rhianna. If the girl wants to be a big pop star then own up to it.

She comes across as the new Avril Lavigne, the anti-pop pop star. All of it is faked and calculated as Miley Cyrus, but at least Miley admits its all fake.

If Lorde truly believes what she is saying about wealth and fame, then she is about to be lured, used, and spit out by the music industry. If this whole image is a marketing ploy on her part, then more power to her. Make that money and get that fame.

lrn36 said:

nd33 said:

Universal not an indy label indeed, but it was a development deal, which basically meant "we want dibs on you in case you turn out good". There was no money piled into recording (hence they produced/recorded/mixed it at Joels modest home studio). There was no marketing strategy when her song hit number one on the student radio station here. Just a whole bunch of people who liked it. She even was allowed to get her way and release her EP with Royals on it for free at the start of the year (against the will of the label). She just wanted people to hear her music.

RE: the fame thing. She tried for as long as possible to not release any photos of herself and to let her music do the talking. She managed to do this and still get to number one in New Zealand and Australia. There were 0 press shots released officially and on her website was simply a drawing that a friend did of her likeness. By the time her music was climbing up the US charts, it became impossible to avoid and I'd say the label pushed her into it.

New Zealand is so far away from the USA in culture, I think it's hard for us to comprehend that a pop star can come up to this kind of quick success without being calculated from top to bottom by old men in suits.

Why shouldn't she criticise other pop acts lyrics? I think it's well over due. The only people criticising are Sinead O'Connor and Madonna. They're not exactly reaching the youth with their message. Ya can't blame someone for being honest!

BTW, have you noticed the way she dresses?

Well, I read that she met with Dr Luke, the guy who produced hits for Nickii Minaj, Katy Perry, and Rhianna. She also wants to work with Rhianna. If the girl wants to be a big pop star then own up to it.

She comes across as the new Avril Lavigne, the anti-pop pop star. All of it is faked and calculated as Miley Cyrus, but at least Miley admits its all fake.

If Lorde truly believes what she is saying about wealth and fame, then she is about to be lured, used, and spit out by the music industry. If this whole image is a marketing ploy on her part, then more power to her. Make that money and get that fame.

As far as I know, she met with Dr Luke because she's interested in writing for other pop stars. She wants to WRITE for Rihanna. That could be a big improvement on the lyric front for those artists, you know the ones that actually are pawns and have 183 writers/producers on each album.

Really, I think you should check out some interviews. She's just a down to earth kiwi teen that fame has been thrust upon. She wants to be an artist and primarily a songwriter.

TOWARD the end of 2011, still seeking the right writing partner, Maclachlan spoke with Ashley Page, also a music manager, about some commercial work for another of his artists. That didn’t work out, but Ella’s name and dilemma came up. Page suggested she meet with Joel Little, one of his artists.
Little was nearly 30, so twice Ella’s age, but still of a very different generation from the others – he’s boyish in skinny jeans and hoodies, and disarmingly affable. The son of a prominent writer, Paul Little, he’d also had over a decade in the industry. Most of it in a pop-punk band, a fact Ella loves. “Joel has no front,” she says. “Because he was in Goodnight Nurse, he can’t try to be cool.”
Little’s band played high schools the length of the country, but it couldn’t last forever. “We were getting older, but the crowd was staying the same age.” He was getting interested in electronic music, so in his mid-20s bought himself some equipment and started to learn the rudiments of production.
He was a quick study, and found work with everyone from mainstream pop singers like Dane Rumble to The Peasants (now Broods), winners of the Rockquest, a nationwide competition for young bands. At the same time, Ella’s own taste was evolving fast; she moved from Grizzly Bear to Animal Collective to James Blake. All the while, though, she remained fascinated by mainstream pop like Justin Timberlake. “It’s magical,” she says. She’d pick apart songs, latching on to production elements and vocal melodies. “Why is it shameful to like this music,” she thought, “or write this music?”
Little was introduced to Ella in December 2011, not long after she’d turned 15. “It was a very strange situation,” he says, “because I hadn’t heard her sing.”
Ella warmed to him immediately. “He’s just so kind and gentle and funny,” she says. “It was the first time I’ve felt comfortable with something which had been just so personal and difficult for me before.”
They weren’t an immediate success. “Our first few songs were so shit,” says Little. A second session, during Ella’s April school holidays, went better. One song in particular stood out. ‘Million Dollar Bills’ was constructed principally from manipulated samples of Ella’s voice – a technique both felt worth exploring.
Ella spent the following term counting down the weeks until the July holidays. They had four days booked; she wanted to make them count. She walked into the studio with the lyrics to ‘Bravado’; ‘Biting Down’ and ‘Royals’. All three are magnificent, rich in imagery and piquant observation. Little constructed beats and the pair came up with melodies together. By the end of the week, all three were largely finished.
“Scott came on a Thursday, and listened to ‘Bravado’ and ‘Royals’. I remember him swearing a lot,” says Ella. “He was pretty happy.”

With a few clicks, she became Lorde

ON November 21 of last year, two weeks after she had turned 16, Sonja watched her daughter tapping away at her laptop in the lounge. It was exam leave, but Ella’s mind was elsewhere. The Love Club EP had been finished for months, and she and Maclachlan had decided to release it for free online, emulating The Weeknd, an artist they both admired.
“I made a Facebook, a Twitter, a Tumblr and a Soundcloud,” she says. “I made everything live at the same time. And I put it on my personal Facebook, invited friends along. And that was it.”
With a few clicks, she became Lorde. Her body coursed with emotion. Anxiety, excitement and ambition with nowhere to go. “I just sat in this horrible La-Z-Boy chair in my house and clicked refresh every 10 seconds,” she says. She didn’t have to wait long for validation. Within hours she had 300 fans. “People aren’t just listening to this out of courtesy,” she thought.
Things didn’t change right away. She kept her job doing filing at her dad’s engineering firm for minimum wage. But the songs, once unleashed, kept running.

Jason Flom is head of Universal Music subsidiary Lava Records. In the ’90s he had a hot streak like no other: Tori Amos, Counting Crows and Matchbox 20. He was sent a link to the recording early on. “Immediately obsessed”, he became determined to sign Lorde to Lava. “I can’t wait to make you a star,” he wrote in an email not long after the songs went live.
“I was like, ‘Bleurgh’,” says Ella. But she still signed with him. “I did sign with him. Americans are like that.” Concert bookers the Windish Agency felt as strongly. They contracted her before she’d even played a live show as Lorde.
In six months, and after just a few days with Little, Ella had gone from feeling totally lost to writing a single which would echo around the world. They didn’t know it yet, but it would soon make them rich. The irony of an anti-materialistic single doing that is not lost on them, although money is not Ella’s motivation. “If I didn’t tell her the state of her bank account, she’d never know,” says Vic, the trustee of her company.

It’s clear Ella and Little have a great working relationship. Just before the album went for mastering, I went to Little’s Golden Age studio to watch the pair fine tune a few songs before delivering the album for mastering. It’s located in a pretty art deco building in an otherwise characterless industrial section of Auckland, with the letters M U S I C emblazoned across the corner. To gain entry you walk through an office which houses much of New Zealand’s music management talent – all of whom have had to watch Ella come and go, knowing they somehow missed out on the biggest management prize in New Zealand music history.
The interior of Golden Age is decked out with some ’70s furniture and dimly lit by both computer screens and glowing rabbit, duck and squirrel lamps. There’s some technical talk — “I swapped that synth for a slightly dirty one”; “It needs some vocal hits for sure” — but as much time is spent talking shit. The record company has sourced a signed copy of the new LP from Ella’s idol, James Blake. She gazes at it lovingly, then attempts to play it cool. “It’s so stupid to worry about autographs. ‘This person touched the same piece of paper as me!’” says Ella sarcastically.
“Now that you’re giving them,” needles Little. She smiles, and they swap their own autograph stories. They’re delightfully down-home: Joel has sports broadcaster and game show host Phillip Leishman’s; Ella got Matt Gibb’s – then host of a popular kid’s show called Studio 2 – when she was eight.
Later, Ella mentions that Flume – who she loves – has asked her to open for him. In a few weeks she’ll be far too big for such support slots, but she doesn’t know that yet. “I can’t tell if it’s cool or not, ’cause it’ll just be heaps of kids on pills.”
She’s making that kind of call all the time. While her father has an eye on the major business structures (“I’m an engineer,” he told me. “I like things to be organised. I specialise in foundations”), Ella is deeply interested – some might say obsessed – with all the line-by-line stuff.

One August afternoon I sat in on a meeting between Maclachlan, his assistant Amy Goldsmith and Ella, while they ran through the latest in the incessant stream of offers, opportunities and decisions which make up the day-to-day of a pop star in waiting. Individually, each one might be of little consequence, which is why most artists leave them to management. But cumulatively they dictate where, when and with whom they appear and ultimately end up shaping the way an artist is perceived. Maclachlan will advocate for a certain position, but Ella, self-confessed perfectionist, can’t stand to let someone else make decisions for her. So most days, wherever she might be, a quickfire meeting will happen, wherever she happens to be.
I watched this happen at photo shoots, in downtime during interviews and before shows. Today’s is in Maclachlan’s cramped office. On the wall sit four clocks, with the time in New York, London, Sydney and Auckland. When I first saw them I thought they were faintly silly, a parody of the industry exec of days gone by. Recent events render that viewpoint overly cynical.
This afternoon’s lengthy agenda starts with her schedule for the remainder of the year – November off (“Yes! I can go back into the studio,” says Ella, an avowed workaholic) and Christmas off (“nothing’s going to get in the way of that,” says Sonja). The rest of the time will be wall-to-wall promotion and touring.
The pace is brutal. In 15 minutes they cover an impending UK release, Ella’s ideas for the next music video, accounting treatments for a remix and a standing invitation to a writing camp for the next Major Lazer album, with Pharrell Williams and Diplo.
Just last year she emailed Maclachlan: “You asked me a while ago who my dream producer would be, and I think these days I’m leaning toward Diplo.” Now things have changed to the point when she can say breezily of the camp, “I thought it’d be cool to swing by for a day.”
It’s not without tetchy moments. Maclachlan mentions a “cover reboot” for the deluxe edition of the album. “That’s very ‘record company’,” says Ella acidly. “I don’t know if we have grounds to completely rehash everything.”
On they plough. Merchandise. “Yes! I’m excited about that. Sweatshirts and short-sleeved T-shirts. Black and grey marl. That’s it.” For advertising, Maclachlan calls in Alistair Cain, Universal New Zealand’s head of marketing, and plays an early cut of the television commercial on his computer. Ella wants to keep the date rendered in Roman numerals. It looks crazy (XXVII.IX.MMXIII). She won’t be moved. After an hour, they’re done.
Afterwards, Cain says that in 20 years in the industry he’s never come across an artist so engaged with the minutiae of their presentation. He points up at a giant poster of Lana Del Rey. “With her, we could do whatever we liked,” he says.

ELLA is frequently compared to Del Rey, though it infuriates her. Both are white women making pop music soaked in the rhythm and attitude of hip-hop. But Del Rey has a much more conventional narrative — she had an image makeover prior to her breakout Born To Die album, and co-writes her songs with some of the biggest producers and writers in the industry.
Ella’s songs, meanwhile, are very much her vision, and hers alone. That meant there was no one to deflect attention to when a blogger writing on the website feministing.com decried ‘Royals’ as racist. Months earlier, over burgers and cokes on a sunny winter’s day, Ella and I had discussed the potential for the song to be misinterpreted. Even though “gold teeth, Grey Goose, trippin’ in the bathroom” – a set of black music clichés – is immediately followed by the rock’n’roll excess of “trashin’ the hotel room”, it’s the nature of contemporary commentary to intentionally misconstrue in the endless quest for clicks.
“I mean, I was 15 when I wrote that song,” says Ella, a little sadly. “I wasn’t thinking about anyone’s cultural aspirations. I was being a bit silly. I don’t know. I can understand [the response] now, and it’s probably not my place to even comment on it. It’s just one of those kind of uncomfortable grey areas.”
One thing Ella doesn’t often sing about directly is love or lust – the subject matter of the vast majority of hit singles. She quotes Del Rey’s ‘Blue Jeans’ with disgust: “I will love you till the end of time/I will wait a million years”, and recently decried the sentiment of Selena Gomez’s ‘Come and Get It’. Suffice to say, she’s a feminist.
“Absolutely. Wholeheartedly,” she says. “I think women who say, ‘No, I’m not a feminist — I love men,’ I think that is just… You don’t know what it means. You think it means that, ‘I don’t shave under my arms, I burn my bras. Fuck men!’ How could you be so uneducated, and so unwilling to learn about something which is so important to you?”
She’s also conscious of the influence she has on other young women. “Taylor Swift is so flawless, and so unattainable, and I don’t think it’s breeding anything good in young girls. ‘I’m never going to be like Taylor Swift, why can’t I be as pretty as Lorde?’ That’s fucking bullshit,” she says, straining forward for emphasis, her huge eyes burning. Later she reflects on her tendency to be so outspoken. "You're never going to appeal to everyone. You might as well have some sort of belief system."

She’s a strange person to spend time with

AT times she can just disappear. During a studio session to playback her debut album Pure Heroine one last time before mastering, she closed her eyes, lay down and let the sound wash over her for long periods of time. More often, she’s looking you dead in the eye, waiting intently for a reaction to what she’s saying or scrutinising your every word. If you step out of line or display muddled thinking, she’ll pounce. When I forgot myself and issued an opinion on a production effect at the studio, she turned and said “So you’re Rick Rubin now?” quick as a cat. It’s pretty disconcerting being reprimanded by a teenager when you’re in your 30s.
You soon forget her age. “I never really treated her like a kid,” says Little. Speechwriter and satirist David Slack is a family friend, and believes her prolific reading – over 1000 books by 12 – helped prepare her for this moment. “What lies at the heart of this is a love of language, and a fascination with it,” he says. That, and seemingly unshakeable self-confidence. “There’s a steadiness in the way she looks at the world.”
Her youth, far from a handicap overcome, seems a source of strength. With adulthood comes doubt, second-guessing. But when your debut single is a worldwide smash, why worry?

In mid-July, with ‘Royals’ just beginning its run in the US, there was already an aura around Lorde far stronger than that of any New Zealand artist in recent memory. She’d had two number one singles in a matter of months, and her debut album was nearly complete.
I pick her up from a weatherboard villa the family’s renting in Bayswater, Auckland – their own is being renovated – ahead of her album cover shoot. Out of the front door bounds Ella. Tall, slightly gawky, limbs flailing. That might be her age, or the platform shoes I barely see her without. We drive toward the venue in Mt Eden, and talk about TV.
Thanks to all that reading she came to the current golden age of television late, but fell hard. She adores The Sopranos, and one of the best lines in the statement of intent ‘Bravado’ — “I was raised up/To be admired, to be noticed” — is paraphrased from Mad Men’s Joan Holloway. Most of her cultural references she tosses out are similarly adult — author Michael Chabon, essayist Laura Mulvey.
Early on she implores I read a profile of the porn star James Deen written by Wells Tower, a favourite short story writer of hers. It’s magnificent, but also deeply, savagely sexual. I don’t know how to talk to a kid about something like that, so I leave it. With Ella, you’ll always blink first.
We pull in to White Studios, a cavernous series of rooms on the city fringe, and she commences that interminable hair and makeup session. I chat to Karen Inderbitzen-Waller who’s styling the shoot, and has “half the Zambesi archive” there, along with a bunch of younger designers’ work. “Everyone wants to put their clothes on her back.” The discussions about wardrobe are two-way. “I’ve worked with a lot of other young musicians,” says Inderbitzen-Waller, “and they don’t know what they want.” That’s never a problem with Ella.
It would be easy to see her controlling tendencies as the excessive demands of a pampered child had they not proven so valuable. Her instincts told her not to release anything until it was perfect, to feed her imagery out slowly, to value artistic integrity over commercial considerations in her music videos.
Joel Kefali, who shot her first two clips, is art directing today, and points out how good Lorde is at balancing “pop values versus indie values”. There’s always a lot of pressure to have the pop side win out; thus far she’s trusted her instincts and resisted.
The shoot moves to a chilly garage next door. In the midst of the warmest winter on record, we’ve struck the coldest day of the year. It’s four degrees celsius at 10 in the morning. The onlookers rug up and grumble; Ella ignores it. The crew are in for a long day and stay well after the scheduled finish. By all accounts it was her driving the late night.

ON a Sunday night in late August, I join the Yelich-O’Connors for dinner, at the invitation of Sonja, who wants me to meet the family. The volume and activity level in the house is near-overwhelming. I perch next to Ella at a small island benchtop, while Vic preps potatoes and eggplant and Sonja fine-tunes a pair of salads. Ella’s wearing fluorescent orange trackpants and a grey marl sweatshirt and is uncharacteristically subdued.
She’s just back from her first trip to the US and has the slightly dazed look of someone caught between timezones. “Dad told me it was Sunday on Friday, and I believed him,” she says.
Her younger sister India brings out the latest issue of celebrity magazine Woman’s Day. It features long-lens images of Ella with her boyfriend, photographer James Lowe, at Auckland Airport, captured a few days earlier. It’s a window into the future — her first paparazzi shots. The feature gushes about “a secret love club with just two members”. Sonja and Ella’s sisters are dismayed, but Ella seems more resigned. She knew this was coming.
A plate of thinly sliced pears with feta and crackers is placed in front of me. After I’ve taken one, its game on for the kids – the plate shrinks to nothing with a pace and intensity that recalls kill scenes in nature documentaries. But behind the chaos and the volume, there’s a logic to proceedings. The table is laid, candles lit, food assembled. And water brought: “Ella! What? You’re doing water! You never do water!” At various points the evening will resemble an elaborate game, wherein Yelich-O'Connor’s siblings try to frame her as behaving more civilly than usual due to my presence.
We move to the dining table. Along with the immediate family a favourite aunt, Jules, is up for the weekend from Turangi, on New Zealand’s North Island, where Vic attended high school and most of his family still live. In the early part of the night Vic is mostly silent, letting the women – mostly his children – dominate the conversation. It roams ceaselessly, and can feel like competitive sport, with attention seized by one player before being wrestled away and advanced by another.
At one point Ella and India hold hands and sing a recent single by Drake. “Ella actually does this thing where she sings a line 700 times,” says Sonja. “We’d yell at her to shut up, throwing shoes against the wall,” continues elder sister Jerry, 19. “I’ll have read the same line about commercial law five times.”
Jerry is as academically driven as Ella, who topped Takapuna Grammar in English last year. “A-plusses look so pretty,” says Jerry. She’s in the midst of a quadruple major, including commerce papers, so she stays abreast of the business of Lorde and accompanied her sister on her first trip to America.
India, 14, is deeply involved in theatre, and has this way of commanding your attention even among a group more than adept on that front. It would be easy to mistake her for the family celebrity. She implores me to see Katy Perry’sPart Of Me documentary, and teases her father about exposing too much chest hair. Angelo, the youngest, just tries to keep up – he knows that to get attention from his parents or sisters in this situation he needs to compete on volume and pace. He holds his own.
The meal is cleared away, and replaced with a pavlova. The children heckle Sonja for making dessert, claiming it’s purely for show. Sonja – blonde, loud, quick-witted – defends herself briefly, before demurring. Her children vanish to tag-team the washing up the same way they did the pears. Vic, Sonja, Jules and I drink herbal tea and talk about Radio New Zealand. Ella returns and rolls her eyes at the conversation. “AM radio,” she says, sounding every inch the intended insult.
The whole family clearly loves these dinners, but know this period, with them all living under one roof, is coming to an end. ‘Royals’ has started its march up the US charts and Ella and Sonja depart shortly to spend two months overseas promoting the album. Jerry is off soon as well, on a scholarship to Germany.
“Sometimes I wish it wasn’t like this,” Sonja had said wistfully to me a few weeks earlier.
Two parental imperatives are at war in Ella’s success: the desire to let your child’s talent out versus the desire to protect them. “It’s a parent/16-year-old relationship,” says Vic defiantly. “That doesn’t change.”
“Sometimes I have to go and take her iPhone off her. I can still do that,” says Sonja. “But for how much longer?”
I notice it’s well after 10, and rise to leave. The time has evaporated in this slightly manic, very entertaining family’s company. Sonja instructs Ella to walk me to the door; her daughter complies without a word.
Driving home I reflect on the night: how contented Vic; how proud Sonja; how boisterous the kids. And how quiet Ella. She complained to me once about my interest in her family, just as she has frequently about other media’s obsession with her age. But when you’re 16, family is almost all you’ve ever known – the years to come are when you start sloughing it off and building your own world. The one Ella has grown up in, with sisterly codes and odd hierarchies, seems to have its own language and is so buoyant, so interested, so intellectually engaged that it’s impossible not to ascribe it a tremendous role in preparing Ella for her unveiling as Lorde.

A FEW weeks later she sits backstage in a vast black Miss Crabb dress, perched on her boyfriend’s knee and playing Candy Crush on her iPhone. A media launch gig starts in a few minutes. Her eyes are glazed, a half-smile plays on her face, and she seems barely aware of her surroundings — it’s the “trance-like state” her mother has observed in her before performances. Soon she stands, picks out some jewellery, and disappears into a darkened anteroom, walking in circles and singing to herself.
Rake-thin keyboardist Jimmy MacDonald sips on a beer — one of two backstage; Lowe has the other. The backstage rider consists of Pam’s Choc-Honey Muesli Bars and water. Maclachlan, Vic and Sonja are determined to keep her clean as a whistle, particularly around shows. So far it’s working.
Drummer Ben Barter taps out an anxious rhythm on the tyre of a road bike. “We worked out, this tour’s going to be two months,” he says later. “And we’ll be nervous for two hours a day. What does that do to you?”
“Ulcers,” replies Maclachlan. “I’ve had two. You piss blood. It’s awful.”

The nerves are always there, buzzing at a low level for all involved. Because, for all her successes, Lorde is a work in progress – and the patchy media showcase proves it. That’s part of her charm, why she feels different to other more micro-managed singers. It’s also partly her and her whole team’s inexperience. While Maclachlan and Universal New Zealand have many years in the industry, none has worked at anything on this scale, attracting this level of scrutiny, with stakes this high.
They’re relishing it. “Everyone involved in this feels that they’re touching something really special,” says Maclachlan. “That’s what we’re all in it for.”
Or is it? There’s a lot of money about to be made. And Scott MacLachan isn’t just her A&R – he’s her manager. How can he be trusted to look out for her when the record label is paying his wages? Vic O’Connor, well versed in contracts as his firm’s MD, isn’t worried.
“What you’ve got to remember is that while there is potentially a conflict of interest in a decision he might make for Universal, as against a decision he might make for Ella as her manager, he also has a vested interest in her management. If things go well for Ella, as they’re looking like they might, he’s got a pretty vested interest in making the right decision for her.”
If Maclachlan does have a conflict, maybe it’s stacked in Ella’s favour. He earns a percentage of her revenues (the figure isn’t disclosed, but 20 per cent is common) and has every incentive to maximise her income, even, if it comes to it, at the expense of his employer.

Maclachlan’s boss, Adam Holt, isn’t worried about that, principally because his branch of the company retains ownership of the project overall. They funded it alone. Unusually, ‘Royals’ was produced without help from New Zealand on Air. They’re a cultural funding agency who have had their name on almost every music video to come out of this country, and many of the albums. When the song started blowing up, NZ on Air staff beseeched Universal to allow them to put it on one of their “Kiwi Hit Disc” radio samplers, only to be met with polite but firm refusals. NZ on Air trumpeted its success in reports to the Broadcasting Minister anyway.
Maclachlan says the decision to pass up funding was principally because it just wasn’t a hugely expensive exercise. Two people in a small studio, making music. Ella takes a different line: “You know how much negative power that logo has for my generation?” Once again, you’re struck by the bluntness and confidence, not just for one so young, but for anyone.
Her youth might be a newsy hook, but it’s intentionally not front and centre of the campaign. “One of the things that became a mantra for me, to everyone involved in the project, was that her age is nothing to do with it,” says Maclachlan. “There was never any requirement for that. She’s not great for 16 — she’s just really great.”
Perhaps more than Justin Bieber and Taylor Swift, English singer Kate Bush, who had her first hit in the late-’70s at 19, provides a better comparison. Both have enormous voices, stark visions and incredibly compelling lyrics, and balance impulses toward art and pop music. In time, the art side won out for Bush; many around Ella think she might end up tipping that way too.
In the meantime she’s scaling the charts, which puts a target on you, particularly in New Zealand. A group of mostly male, mostly older music industry veterans have been asking whether this is Lorde’s work, or the machine’s.
Do they have a point? Joel Little has deep roots in the industry. But prior to working with Ella, his biggest hit was Kids of 88’s ‘My House’, which peaked at #3 in the NZ charts and did nothing special overseas.
Maclachlan has no time for the “major label” critique, either. “If your premise is that it was the record company, we’d have a fuckload more hits.”
The sniping seems driven more by incredulity that someone so young — and so female — could be this talented. A prominent critic and blogger named Simon Sweetman gave full voice to the sentiment in his rambling, embittered review of The Love Club EP.
“This is a scam. We’re all being played… extraordinary to think that Lorde has gone on to appear on Billboard covers and play Jools Holland and whatever else. Hey, good on her, if that’s what she wants – and I’m sure she doesn’t even know what she wants... this 16 year old is still being sexualised in the selling of her music – it’s just to dudes that wank over Farmers [a department store] lingerie catalogues rather than being honest and hiring porn.”
The idea that men should judge the sexuality implicit in female singers’ clothing choices is already pretty vile, but Lorde, with her predilection for floor-length black dresses and vast, enveloping cloaks is a particularly bizarre target for the argument. Suggesting she doesn’t even know what she wants is still less defensible – you’ll be disabused of that notion all of two lines into most interviews.
When Sweetman posted the review Ella was asleep in Paris, having just played ‘Royals’ on French television. She messaged me the following morning. “I read it, and then looked at the Arc de Triomphe from the window of my hotel room, and felt nothing at all.”

Unsurprisingly, her mind was elsewhere. On the tour, the next single, the forthcoming album. And on songs yet unwritten. That’s what excites her and her team most of all. And with good reason. For all she’s achieved, she’s has barely scratched the surface of her voice’s emotional range, and worked with only one producer. Her lyrics, already among the best in contemporary pop, will surely improve.
So despite all the formidable noise she’s already made, a tantalising question now hangs over this gathering storm: What if she’s just getting started?

I remember hearing Royals quite a while ago on one of those in-between stations on my radio -- probbaly a college station or something. I thought "hey, now this is cool". Well, cut to several months later and the song is ruined for me. I think I heard it about 10 times a day.

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She has a few more songs on the radio, but they're not really all that different from Royals. I don't see her having much staying power in music.