When an artist starts making big pronouncements about their upcoming album, I start to get nervous.
In the lead up to her third album, Dua Lipa hyped up Radical Optimism as being 'a psychedelic-pop-infused tribute to UK rave culture.' How can you not feel excited at that premise? Bringing on Tame Impala’s Kevin Parker and producer/remixer Danny L. Harle as producers seemed to further cement her intentions.
And yet, you’d be hard pressed to find much trace of this psychedelic or rave pop influence. Even Rolling Stone's summary of the album seemed to contradict Lipa's claim:
'The final product is uniquely and utterly Dua Lipa: confident dance pop full of witty Instagram-caption-ready one-liners. A lot of the songs are playful scenes from clubs or nights out with friends; the lyrics toggle from warnings that she’ll make a fast escape to optimism about what a first kiss could become.'
If anything, it sounds like a continuation of Future Nostalgia. But that's not to say Radical Optimism didn't sound at all promising; I rated the first three singles rather highly upon release.
Parker's psychedelic pop influence comes through most clearly on 'Houdini,' its sleek and simmering groove helping to give Lipa's trademark disco a seductive, even intriguing edge. 'Training Season' is just as slick and commanding, Lipa confident yet aloof as she tells potential suitors to shape up if they want her affection. And the sun-kissed 'Illusion,' although not as infectious, still sees Lipa serve up a stylish yet vibrant cut of 90s pop euphoria.
The rest of the album seems far more indebted to the dull and disposable pop trends of the late 90s/early 2000s that are rather beneath Lipa at this point.
'Maria' apes from the Latin pop wave of 1999 with its Spanish guitar flourishes and chintzy synths. 'Falling Forever' sounds like a forgettable Eurovision entry (Funnily enough, Danny L. Harle had a hand in producing Olly Alexander’s ‘Dizzy,’ the UK's entry for this year's contest). Both ‘These Walls’ and ‘French Exit’ are breezy but bland takes on the guitar-laced pop perfected by the likes of Natasha Bedingfield and Nelly Furtado, plagued with such thrilling insights on relationships as ‘If these walls could talk/They'd tell us to break up.’ The closing track ‘Happy for You’ is also annoyingly vague as Lipa wishes an ex and his new girlfriend well (‘She's really pretty, I think she's a model/Baby, together, you look hot as hell’).
Like a lot of self-help philosophy, Radical Optimism is filled with empty platitudes and well-worn clichés, in stark contrast to Future Nostalgia's more fun and empowering hooks. The singer’s journey to self-discovery feels devoid of any real struggle, epiphanies like this appearing out of thin air and already fully formed. None of it feels truly earned.
If only Lipa & co. had leaned in more to the funkier side of things, where the album truly shines.
Opener ‘End of an Era’ picks up where Future Nostalgia left off with its glistening fusion of house and salsa, an effervescent fit for summer romance (Though the spoken word section, in Lipa’s stiff RP accent, is painfully awkward and rather unnecessary). ‘Whatcha Doin’’ also expands on that album’s slick and spacey pop vibes, led by an irresistible strut of a bassline.
'Anything for Love' is also pretty funky. What starts off as an aching, stripped-back ballad (complete with 'candid’ studio banter) quickly turns into a bombastic, Off the Wall- style strut, Lipa revelling in the bittersweet romance of it all.
And then, it just... ends? It’s super disappointing that just as Lipa seems to be living up to her promise of exploring new sonic horizons, she quickly pulls back.
Future Nostalgia was always going to be a tough act to follow. It arrived at just the right time, turning kitchen floors into dance floors during lockdown with its unashamedly glossy and colourful mix of disco and 80s pop. Radical Optimism, however, feels disjointed and rather generic, a summer pop album that’s not really all that summery, much like Lorde's Solar Power and Miley's Endless Summer Vacation.
It’s hard to tell if this is how Lipa envisioned the album all along or if she abandoned the psychedelic/rave pop concept halfway through and reworked it into something more palatable and ‘safe.’ The sharp pivot from the dark, edgy vibes of ‘Houdini’ and ‘Training Season’ to the ocean blue aesthetic of ‘Illusion’ could make a strong case for the former, especially after those first two singles underperformed.
Radical Optimism almost sees Lipa at risk of falling back into the trap of the nondescript artist, a fate that’s befallen several of her fellow Albanians – Bebe Rexha, Rita Ora, Ava Max – artists with no real distinct personality or a committed enough fanbase to be truly memorable.
As cool and confident as she comes off, there’s also something about Lipa that can come off a little... well, dull. Who is Dua Lipa, exactly? Disco club queen? Untouchable girl boss? Young modern woman who occasionally gets her heart broken? After almost a decade, I’m still not sure.
She doesn’t need to do a complete overhaul of her disco pop image or give us overwrought Swift-style screeds with a ton of not-so cryptic clues about her myriads of friends, lovers or enemies to be interesting. But it would’ve been nice to see a little more personality and more of the experimentation that was promised on this album, something that feels halfway fun and human.
None of us were expecting too radical a change on Radical Optimism. But I was a little more optimistic than this...