“drop dead”: Gorgeous

2 hours ago 2

It’s a hit. That’s my first takeaway from "drop dead." There’s a lot to say about the lead single from Olivia Rodrigo’s third LP, but first and foremost it does what a lead single is supposed to do, drilling itself into your brain immediately. After one listen this morning, the chorus was playing in my head on loop.

But there’s much more to "drop dead" than a catchy hook. This song has a lot going on — musically, lyrically, contextually. It’s a complex, bespoke world-domination machine, a grand gesture full of carefully distributed flourishes and Easter eggs. Some of those details will be interpreted as nods to Rodrigo’s own life; others are the kinds of songwriting and production elements that elevate your listening experience even if you’re not conscious of them. Together, they add up to a song that will reward close scrutiny and impassioned karaoke performances alike.

This is Rodrigo like we’ve never heard her before: namely, happy. The new album title is you seem pretty sad for a girl so in love, and Rodrigo has described "drop dead," the opening track, as the first chapter in a story. So presumably later offerings will bring back some version of the biting, distressed pop-rocker from Sour and Guts. But here, the only anxiety is the giddy, anticipatory butterflies-in-your-stomach sensation that makes you feel like you might throw up.

Yes, the title is a fakeout. Given everything Rodrigo has released so far, I assumed a song called "drop dead" would involve her telling off some guy who’s done her dirty. Instead, it’s a declaration of electric attraction: "The most alive I've ever been/ But kiss me and I might drop dead." Those who’d like to connect the dots to Rodrigo’s recently ended real-life romance with British actor Louis Partridge get plenty of evidence here, not least of all a bridge that spells out their respective astrological signs: "Pisces and a Gemini/ But I think we might go really nice together." But Genius annotations plucked from the tabloids are the least interesting aspect of this song.

Across her first two albums, Rodrigo’s reclamation of '90s and 2000s rock aesthetics (Hole, Alanis, Paramore, Radiohead) gave her music an edge and made her a favorite among those of us too old to have known her during her Disney Channel days. On "drop dead," she presents a different blend of genres and allusions without ceasing to sound exactly like herself. There’s a heavy dose of the early-2010s moment when Katy Perry and Taylor Swift were competing for pop supremacy, with a flickering synth intro that reminds me of "Firework" and a huge, dramatic, scene-setting chorus that evokes "Wildest Dreams." The song has an '80s flavor, too: the texture of those keyboard sounds, the way those soaring strings seem ready to sweep us away to new-wave-era MTV.

Those are stretches of pop history typified by maximalist bombast, and appropriately, "drop dead" goes for broke. The song steadily intensifies like Rodrigo classics "vampire" and "deja vu," but this time it’s leading to euphoria, not scorn or self-loathing. The music undergoes an amazing transformation, gradually morphing from muted synth-pop balladry to a rocker powered by fuzz bass and pounding drums. But, perhaps mirroring the way a crush can ramp up to a passionate obsession before you know it, the arrangement evolves so subtly that you might not even realize how much has changed between Point A and Point B.

Along the way, Rodrigo and core collaborator Dan Nigro sprinkle in so many pleasing, disparate elements. I love the way she shifts into quasi rapping a la "get him back" on the second verse. I love the way the bridge (this lady knows how to write a bridge) reframes the pressurized buildup from "bad idea, right?" in positive terms. I love the way the guitar veers left into twisted discordance just before the grand finale. I love the way the tape rolling sound at the end (not audible in the video, check it out on your favorite DSP) resembles the one from 60 Songs That Explain The ’90s. This thing is a compact pop-rock symphony, seamlessly combining components without making a big show of its own eclecticism.

For the most part, the lyrics are just as smartly crafted, especially a second verse that takes us from nervous flirtation to shouting love from mountaintops. A line like "Yeah, I'd love it if you walked me home/ If you promised, we can go real slow/ 'Cause I got chewing gum and a bunch of stuff I'd like to know" immerses us fully in the story. You can picture the movie version of this moment, and you can vivdly imagine what’s going on with our narrator internally. Alongside those flashes of universal relatability, Rodrigo leverages her fame in a manner that deepens the experience for tapped-in fans without cheapening it for less engaged listeners. Under any circumstances, the first verse’s reference to "Just Like Heaven" would be a nod to fellow Cure fans and a portal to discovery for younger listeners. But it takes on new dimensions when you know Rodrigo has literally performed that song onstage with Robert Smith.

Maybe that reference strikes you as pandering. Perhaps Rodrigo’s syllabic emphasis on the phrase "feminine intuition" drives you crazy, her words wrangled to fit the melody as if held at gunpoint by Max Martin. It’s possible that, in a jubilant state on an especially poppy track, Rodrigo no longer stands out to you the way she did when she was angry. I have little gripes of my own: "One night I was bored in bed/ And stalked you on the internet" is better suited as the start of a verse than the opening line to a powerhouse chorus. But when I run back "drop dead," as I have dozens of times already today, the overwhelming whole so thoroughly overpowers the minor flaws that they start to feel more like charming quirks. That’s how it goes when you’re madly in love.