The August 2023 Vogue is probably Olivia Rodrigo’s first of many, given the wild scope of her popularity. The cover photo is sparkly and cute and coy; I like the visual trick of the shadow, which sort of represents the darker feelings she exorcises in her songs as compared with the lighter person she is in her daily life. She comes across in this profile as a truly good egg — nice, thoughtful, and somehow, impossibly, pretty unaffected by the scope of her life now. At one point in the story, she mentions something she read in her profiler Jia Tolentino’s prior work, specifically about abortion, as she wades into activism; this kind of curious Googling is very relatable and rarely comes up in an interview like this, and good for her for being willing to speak up about things like abortion rights and make herself vulnerable to an avalanche of Internet nonsense.
If “Vampire” is any indication, Olivia Rodrigo’s new album will pick up where she left off with Sour. I have spent a dumb amount of time this morning wondering what the clean version will be of “Bloodsucker, famefucker…” because it relies on the internal rhyme. I came up with “famesucker,” because radio edits aren’t that deep and don’t care about repetition. ANYWAY. Olivia can still wail, and she knows her way around some lyrical brutality — the comparisons to Taylor Swift are apt — and I’m excited for the rest of the record, which my nephew has decreed that I purchase and display in my house.
He also decreed, in VERY strong terms, that I show you a photo from last weekend’s single release party. “Just sneak it into another article,” he said. Mission accomplished:
Et voila. It ALSO picks up where she has left off, in terms of her style — the aesthetic works. This FEELS a little like a hot twenty-something vampire whose arm bows are weeping dark tears of vengeance. Pity the lad who bled her dry like a goddamn vampire, eh?
