Lorde Releases 49 Unreleased Demo Tracks from “Virgin” on Its Anniversary

On Sunday evening I realized that Virgin had been released for nearly a year. I felt compelled to address its absence. While I had become accustomed to the marketing and commodification of my emotions, sharing Virgin felt unexpectedly raw and vulnerable. I struggled with interviews and writing, and felt I needed a period of silence. The physical nature of the work resisted being constrained by language, yet time has passed and I now wish to articulate my experience.

Creating an album is inherently absurd. The intense self‑absorption and conviction required make one difficult to be around, as one withdraws into a solitary world, constantly hovering on the brink of a breakthrough. The process is often grueling and fraught with discomfort, yet each day of working on Virgin felt like a gift. I felt I was liberating myself and constructing a sacred space, carefully layering each element.

I was confronting a longstanding eating disorder and had recently deleted MyFitnessPal. In the week that gave rise to “Shapeshifter” and “What Was That,” I committed to treating breakfast as non‑negotiable, drinking a smoothie each morning and pushing forward despite moments of wanting to withdraw, one step at a time.

During a breakup, I avoided hotels and stayed in the spare rooms and couches of several friends, whose kindness proved pivotal to the creation of Virgin. A friend once observed that I tended to fall into deep depression about the album each time my period began; months later I was diagnosed with premenstrual dysphoric disorder (PMDD).

I wore men’s jeans and a black zip‑up hoodie daily, regardless of the weather. My acne resembled a thick beard down my neck, making me feel both monstrous and sacred. Riding a borrowed bicycle, I felt expansive, attuned to the subtle signals exchanged throughout the city and the collective energy that seemed to gather above us.

I focused on singing to myself as I needed to be heard, gradually attaching music and language to long‑hidden stories. By vocalizing them, I released their grip, feeling lighter and undergoing personal transformation.

The release of “Brat” marked a weather system of fearlessness intertwined with fragility, unexpectedly exposing my early stage. I was forced to confront my insecurities openly. Charli provided the supportive distance that required careful attention, restoring my belief in music as a social technology. At parties and festivals I smoked, sang, and felt part of humanity.

On March 2, 2025, we captured the X‑rays that would serve as the album artwork. When I underwent the scan, I felt disoriented, as if I were in a surreal ceremony within my grandmothers’ jewelry store. Old fears resurfaced, and I feared the machine would expose an ugliness extending to my core. Eric sensed my anxiety, gently held my hand, and assured me that the image would be perfect—simply a portrait of who I am now, flawless and right.

Throughout the creation of Virgin, I sought to love it beyond its commercial potential, encountering recurring moments of profound beauty as we stumbled or veered off course. Last year we experimented with assembling a collection of skeletal versions, but on a recent Sunday night I understood that authentic X‑rays of Virgin would be more genuine, humorous, and revealing of imperfection, celebrating the journey, repetitions, and even my acne rather than merely the final outcome. As Eric said, you are truly beautiful, and that is the way I choose to live.

Thank you, as always, for making space in your lives for every facet of my artistic project. It is a true honor to be welcomed by you. I hope you enjoy exploring this, and I look forward to seeing you this summer.

With all my love, — Exxxxxxxxx

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