Olivia Rodrigo takes her time. In an age of pop music that often feels more like fast food than fine art, Rodrigo has never read to me like she’s in any sort of rush; but I suppose that’s what happens when your debut single crowns you as the Gen-Z pop girl to beat at the age of 17.
On ‘drop dead,’ Rodrigo is in that rare flux state, born from an inconsolable crush that mounts into anxious obsession. She lets us know as much — on verse two, which the internet rightfully coins the spiritual sister of Wolf Alice’s ‘Don’t Delete The Kisses,’ Rodrigo playfully word-vomits about the endless list of mundane topics she’d like her date’s opinion on, like if he’s “ever been to Japan, or taken [the] Eurostar to France”.
As her thoughts grow tangential, the instrumentation — a product of the consistently sharp Dan Nigro — spirals with her. Whilst on first listen the flurried jumps from the lyrical first verse to the anticipatory chorus to the almost conversational second stanza may sound piecemeal, Rodrigo knows exactly who she is on ‘drop dead’ — a storyteller. A disjointed guitar scale at the three-minute mark word paints the nauseous stomach-twisting that exists only in the purgatory of a first date; will he kiss me? Won’t he kiss me? Rodrigo can’t say for sure — but, if he tries, she’ll most definitely “drop dead”.
“Olivia Rodrigo – Unity Arena, Oslo” by NRK P3 is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 2.0.