Dua Lipa’s Future Nostalgia is a initial good cocktail manuscript of a decade


The initial time we listened to Dua Lipa’s second album, Future Nostalgia, we did dual things: first, we stopped dancing, held my breath, and relished a perfect brilliance. Second: we put on each good 00s cocktail manuscript I’d lost how many we loved: Natasha Bedingfield’s Unwritten; Kelis’ Flesh Tone, Gwen Stefani’s The Sweet Escape. Future Nostalgia deserves to be remembered in equal esteem, and as a 20’s initial good cocktail album. High octane and totally delightful.

Lipa has oral frequently about how this manuscript is like a dancercize class, a relentless 12 marks of cocktail desirous by a good cocktail girls from a spin of a millennium: she’s referenced Moloko and Stefani, and when we spoke to her for a GQ Heroes issue, entrance soon, she talked about how she wanted this manuscript to be as undying and critical for immature women as Fergie’s The Duchess or Pink’s M!ssundaztood were to her. She’s positively succeeded.

The manuscript opens with a party of songs we’ve primarily heard: rising in with promo singular ‘Future Nostalgia’ – suppose if Prince wrote for The Pointer Sisters – followed by a Studio 54 crack ‘Don’t Start Now’. Then there’s new strain ‘Cool’, again disposition into that 80s vibe with some genuine synthy riffs. It’s maybe a many in gripping with Dua Lipa’s self-titled album: a hazed croon of her voice, a slower tempo, yet with a many stronger vibe of EMOTION-era Carly Rae Jepsen than before. Then comes ‘Physical’, a strain Giorgio Moroder wishes he produced. How does it get better, we ask? Don’t worry, Dua says. Just wait. 

The rest of a manuscript is all new to your ears bar ‘Break My Heart’, a INXS-sampling jam expelled on Wednesday, that will soundtrack each romcom trailer and yoghurt advert for a rest of a decade. It’s hard, given her goal statement, not to listen to each strain as a intensity single. It’s a large ask for any album, yet Lipa and her group deliver. 

She toys with some engaging samples that conjure adult a electro-swing cocktail hits that feel so evocative of UK cocktail in a 00s, yet with a sensuous prolongation of something distant some-more American. ‘Love Again’ – Dua’s many strenuously pro-love strain to date – facilities a representation of Al Bowlly’s 1932 ‘My Woman’, by approach of a use in White Town’s 90s crack ‘Your Woman’ (her references, not mine.) It swells and slaps and punches in ways that her anxiety points – we can’t assistance yet consider of Bedingfield’s ‘Silent Movie’, or The 411’s ‘On My Knees’ – only couldn’t do.

It competence sound like I’m ban with gloomy regard to anxiety so many artists in articulate about Dua, yet it’s a approach she’s always oral about a album: as a latest in a prolonged origin of meaty, tasty cocktail albums by women who only wish we to have fun. What’s critical yet is that Dua Lipa is not cribbing from other people’s records here: a references are clear, yet a sound is clearly her. It is her voice intentionally throughout, maybe explaining because it doesn’t embody any collabs, including her one with Normani. She manages to change radio playability with cheekiness and invention in a approach many mainstream artists, perplexing to transition into some-more particular sounds, destroy to do.

Praise also needs to go for how unabashedly voluptuous Dua sounds on this album, carrying on her good tradition of singing about womanlike sexuality from a viewpoint of women rather than how it advantages men. When she praises all “that good siren in a moonlight” she’s been removing in penultimate lane ‘Good In Bed’ we literally screamed with delight. You can only feel how many fun she’s having: something all her co-writers on this manuscript told me was spreading in a studio, and it shows. 

If we consider Dua’s already given we a best of her new era, you’re sorely mistaken: ‘Don’t Start Now’ is a crowdpleaser, ‘Physical’ a doyenne of each drag black and spin instructor in a land, yet a impulse we are all liberated of self siege a manuscript marks from Future Nostalgia need to be played during your initial post-pandemic houseparty. Start your initial night of leisure with ‘Hallucinate’, a strain that will live longer than any of a inspirations. From a enjambement of a lyrics on a carol to a Kaytranada-esque production, this strain should open each festival and tighten each bar night. You can feel a pendants bouncing on a chests of sweaty partygoers with each beat of this track. It creates we wish to be single, make mistakes, splash too many and lick a nearest chairman to you. Yet Future Nostalgia balances track anthems with also being a gospel of delicate value for all a teenagers looking to her for inspiration. we overtly ask you: what some-more can we ask for from a cocktail record?

Future Nostalgia is out on Friday

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