Ariana Grande‘s 2020s output has felt restrained compared to every other phase of her musical career. Both 2020’s Positions and 2024’s eternal sunshine, though, bore traces of the joyful, breezy excellence of 2019’s thank u, next, the moment Grande settled into her R&B comfort zone as she cultivated her longstanding collaborative relationship with Max Martin and Ilya Salmanzadeh. The same is hardly true of petal, which is achingly muted and monochromatic by comparison – at most reaching for a strained sense of contentment – not helped by a new wave of public scrutiny that led to the singer “taking a step back from visibility,” as a representative announced the day of this review’s publication. Halfway through the new album, Grande prides herself on being “aquatic,” offering an invitation: “Come swim in these waters, I’ve been told they have healing properties.” She remains cheeky and sultry at several points across the album, but taken as a whole petal makes her sound like a fish lost at sea, drifting through shrunken territory. Yet when her voice rises to the surface, when she takes healing into her own hands, it seems to usher in a more grounded vision of the modern pop star.
1. kiss me
Cloaking petal in a mood of societal desperation, Grande quickly zooms into the personal, begging for something overwhelming to take her on a journey. The chorus of ‘kiss me’ itself is a slight negation: barely distorted shoegaze guitars, barely soaring vocals, barely clanging drums; each element drowned of any sense of urgency, romantic or otherwise. ILYA’s production is intriguing to start, but stops short of being experimental enough to justify how subdued it is.
2. hate that i made you love me
The mood of petal‘s opener makes more sense with Grande’s proclamation that she “barely tried” to be the subject of love, if only because her words shine clearer in the lead single’s stark bridge. As an early preview, ‘hate that i made you love me’ showcased how Grande’s detached attitude could be elevated by subtly pleasant, driving production, especially when aided by Max Martin’s melodic sensibility. But little else on the record strikes this delicate balance.
3. petal
The distortion finally has some bite while the sub-bass paints a sinister scene that vaguely recalls the swagger of ‘7 rings’. For a title track, it’s a strange yet bold act of recontextualization as Grande forebodes disaster in her high vocal register. “Tryna feel something real/ To cry again.” Even if it retreads old territory, it’s a portrait of dissociation that sounds almost as ugly as it feels.
4. stay
Punchy and memorable, ‘stay’ might be the album’s one true banger, if one whose own staying power is diminished for the sake of cruel irony. “I just wanna stay this time,” Grande sings, but the fact that it’s the album’s shortest non-interlude track drives home her fear of abandonment. Still, her directness is thrilling.
5. oh well
A lush bed of synths swirls to the tune of Grande’s insecurities, accentuated by the addition of some strings. But really, it’s the skittering garage beat that pulses ‘oh well’, and seemingly the whole record, back to life. It’s a spiritual cousin to ‘thank u, next’, if not bound for the same ubiquity, and a rare point where her metaphors hit hard: “My dead-ends are gathered around as friends, just so I don’t get hurt again.” Then she lifts the veil completely: “I play all the parts that I’m supposed to, right?” If only she was just singing about her love life.
6. big feelings
A less straightforward (and gracious) take on the lead single’s emotional conflict, this would have been a breezy R&B tune on any recent Grande album, but it’s given an ominous edge here. It might have worked were the lyrics not so cloying, all the way to the chorus.
7. freak
Gauzy, inquisitive guitars match Grande’s daydreaming, but ‘freak’ suffers, like the opener, from an inability to square its haziness with a pop facade. It grows dissonant enough to make an impression, but it alienates on principle rather than through feeling.
8. warning signs (interlude)
Grande lingers in this wispy, confrontational mode a little longer, though the interlude mostly serves to highlight the album’s seamless flow. Which, for such a monochromatic effort, might not be the biggest feat.
9. like i do
petal seems to resuscitate itself in the second half, allowing Grande’s rage and sultriness to shine through in equal measure. “Keep my heels tall, my ego small, but I’m still Grande,” she sings, making her case with operatic flourishes few of her peers would even attempt; even if the recurring echo of ‘7 rings’ paints still Grande in a slightly negative light.
10. never get over me
The song’s plodding R&B is the back half’s weak spot, too tame to be funky, let alone sell its titular conviction; at this point you’d be forgiven for wanting petal to be over sooner rather than later.
11. bad thing (bunny hop)
petal has been dipping its feet in shoegaze this whole time, when it could’ve leaned on an entirely different strain of alt-rock. The distorted guitars finally give the album a sense of momentum instead of dragging it down, gelling nicely with Grande’s falsetto. Even if it’s too little, too late, ‘bad thing (bunny hop)’ has enough verve to make up for Grande’s noncommittal approach.
12. nowhere, nobody
The closer is another example of how petal‘s understated, subtly emotive approach could have made for a stellar album if it was more consistently applied. The breakbeats from ‘oh well’ make a defiant comeback as Grande’s nimble self-harmonies turn robotic, showing obvious yet deep reverence for Imogen Heap. “There’s no more running,” she sighs, unsure why she keeps on climbing just to reach the ground. ‘nowhere, nobody’, contented and light on its feet, is the exception. There’s nothing quite like it on petal, but you hope it plants the seed for Grande’s next project.
