Ariana Grande’s Eternal Sunshine puts the singer on a new plane and delivers her to a place she has never been before.
It is strikingly more mellow than any of her previous albums, and there is a noticeable lack of strain that had been present in the past. This “strain” does not speak for her vocals, which have always been effortlessly unmatched. Still, there is a discernible lack of the lavish, and at times needless, embellishment that was pervasive in her previous work. This speaks to her maturation, not just as a songwriter but as a human. It is clear that she keeps this mature version of herself guarded: there is a distinct conflict between the person the media expects her to be and the person she actually is – and this duality is offered to us on a platter in the album.
“intro (end of the world)” poses a question the rest of the album tries to answer – “How can I tell if I’m in the right relationship?” The question, embellished with the melodic vocals of Grande, is nearly responded to in the subsequent “bye,” a reactionary tale told at the end of the break up. This would provide a satisfactory answer to the aforementioned question if it weren’t for the following: “don’t wanna break up again,” which simultaneously processes and contradicts the emotions of “bye.” The ordering of the songs is decidedly intentional throughout the album and speaks to the importance of an album’s track order, particularly on an album like Eternal Sunshine, which relies on storytelling.
“Saturn Returns Interlude” encapsulates the artist’s maturation and details how astrological alignments can work in tandem with our lives to provide a pathway for change and development. It is the compelling forefather of “eternal sunshine” that fulfills the call for change that “Saturn Returns Interlude” calls for. The subtle trap influences work in conjunction with lines like “I’d rather forget than know, know for sure” to create a transformative, if not slightly despairing, response to moving on from a relationship. “supernatural” is the first sign of this moving on we get in the album; though not her strongest song, it provides the light-hearted lift we need and interesting beguiling elements such as the extra-terrestrial crescendo awarded to us near the end of the song.
Where things may be considered sonically similar for the first half of the album, “true story” is what breaks this mold. It is reminiscent of something Justin Timberlake would sing in the early 2000s, with specific influences from the 90s and the 00s carried throughout. The lyricism shifts, too, with Grande seemingly fulfilling the person the media expects her to be, claiming she can “play the villain if you need [her] to.” The same goes for “the boy is mine,” which plays off the Brandy & Monica track of the same name, though it does sound more akin to the NSYNC influences that were ubiquitous on thank u, next’s “break up with your girlfriend, i’m bored.” This song is prototypical of the R&B influences Grande has worked to channel throughout her career, and it serves her well. These songs provide a welcome up-tempo departure from the mildly melancholy aspects of the rest of the album. However, they introduce the unreliable narrator that Grande also works to channel throughout her songs. By merging fact with fiction, the whole narrative becomes unsubstantiated and forces the listener to separate her music from any idea of her we may have in our heads.
This upbeat streak is equally conveyed in “yes, and?” the following track and the album’s lead single. It is not the strongest on the album but triumphs as an undeniable pop if not house, anthem. The reasoning behind the choice to make it the lead single, though, is clear; it provides the forecast for the tone of the album as a collective whole: a self-assured, unfazed crusade for inner peace. “we can’t be friends (wait for your love)” follows this and begins to take the album back into a more solemn direction. A track that may outwardly address a former lover but can also be read as an ode to the media and finding the balance between speaking out and “biting your tongue.” “i wish i hated you” more directly targets a former lover and deals with the final stages of moving on after a break up. It lacks a certain zest that the rest of the songs possess, but with such a heartfelt and vulnerable song, I don’t think this is required.
The album finishes on a high, with two of our favorite tracks being the final two. “imperfect for you” has a beautiful sentiment, but above all, it prevails sonically. The chorus, particularly the titular line, “imperfect for you,” has an enchanting quality, almost psychedelic in its delivery. Grande herself has said Rubber Soul inspired the song, and though very different in many areas, you can see where the influence has infiltrated. The song works as a brilliant precursor for “ordinary things,” the final song on the album. The horns in the song’s intro are reminiscent of her early discography (Yours Truly or My Everything), presenting an implicitly cyclical closure to the album. She seems to have rediscovered that love, whether permanent or impermanent, romantic or platonic, is not essential. She (or rather her Nonna in a touching voice note) answers the question asked at the beginning of the album: trying to define love is futile, and to just let love be is to let love win. Significantly, Grande’s laughter closes the album with a promise of optimism, hope, and eternal sunshine.