Dua Lipa review, Radical Optimism: Destined to get bodies on the dancefloor

You have to admire Dua Lipa’s unwavering sense of purpose. In 2017, while working on her self-titled debut album, she told her A&R Joe Kentish that she planned to work with Tame Impala’s Kevin Parker on her third album. Kentish laughed and told the emerging star to hold his horses. But seven years later, here she is with her third album, Radical optimism, and here is Parker, playing and producing on seven of the 11 tracks.

This artistic conviction has been one of the driving traits of the Albanian-British artist since day one. We heard him in the uncompromising regime of his 2017 single “New Rules”, in the lively edits of “Don’t Start Now” (2019) and again on “Houdini”, the pre-single of this record, on in which she throws down the gauntlet to a potential lover with the phrase: “Prove that you have the right to please me.” » Urgent, upbeat, demanding and funky, Lipa is snap personified throughout Radical optimism.

She takes control from the start. A burst of 70s synthesized flutes opens “End of an Era”; this trademark rubber band bass sends him onto a dance floor to take the lead. “Hey/What’s your name?/Come with me,” she asks. Parker added live percussion – the shimmer of a hi-hat, bells and a chime – into the mix, contributing a more organic vibe to Lipa’s muscular brand of disco pop.

But she doesn’t need a live band to create danger; she’s always appreciated the dual punch of bass and vocals (fueled by twinkling synths) to quicken the pulses. On “Houdini,” the melody builds as she urges a potential lover to “catch me before I leave,” raising levels of interplanetary pressure by emphasizing that “time passes like a solar eclipse.” Tick ​​tock, hang in there!

The deciding stakes remain high during “training season,” where a rattling trap pushes those not ready for action. “Whatcha Doin’” finds another irresistibly springy bassline catapulting Lipa into a romantic “collision,” while the club beat of “Illusion” finds her laughing at a player who “Tryna’ make me yours for life, taken’ me for a ride.” Her energy and confidence are contagious.

Fittingly for such an international artist, Lipa accessorizes some tracks with a bit of Eurodisco, twirling skirts and fun sambuca-shot. There’s Latin strumming and flamenco clapping on “Maria” and “French Exit” (the latter term meaning leaving without saying goodbye).

There’s a dreamy little American slide guitar gilding the lower key of “These Walls,” whose melody is so sweet and catchy that non-English speakers probably won’t realize it’s a breakup song ) and gloriously abandoned hoots on “Falling Forever”, which makes you want to throw my hat in the ring for Eurovision 2025. The beat rumbles at a gallop as Lipa – often more of a pouting, panting singer – really gives a bit power to the voice.

Unlike many of her pop peers, Lipa gives no insight into her private life, joking in a recent interview that she’s too British to “spit guts.” She certainly looks like a woman who has little time for that kind of crap. Like an 80s aerobics instructor, she wants bodies on the dance floor: to feel the burn, to sweat. Dress in something that lets you lean in and hang with her, you’ll end up shining with Lipa. Radical optimism.