The 10 Best Lorde Songs of All Time

Lorde and Charli xcx’s “Girl, So Confusing (Remix)” has become a breakout hit of “Brat” summer, thanks to its lyrical honesty and exciting production. The track unpacks the messy emotions behind female friendship and rivalry in the spotlight — a mix of admiration, jealousy and awkwardness. Originally written by Charli about her complicated feelings toward Lorde, it captures the pressure women face when constantly compared in the public eye. Lorde’s added verse on the remix turns the song into a rare moment of mutual reflection. It’s not a diss track — it’s a self-aware, painfully relatable look at how fame can distort connection, and how honesty might help untangle it. — Mays

The first glimpse of Lorde’s eagerly-awaited sophomore album was this rousing single, which begins with the singer getting angsty with her piano player before the song explodes into gang vocals and a triple shot of pop espresso. Lorde’s lyrics are acid-tongued, scorning an ex who has moved on (“She thinks you love the beach, you’re such a damn liar”) to simultaneously dreaming of the “Green Light” to move on, even if she can’t quite do it yet (“Honey, I’ll come get my things, but I can’t let go.”). It’s messy and imperfect — so why not throw a dance party during the back half? — Earl

“Hard Feelings/Loveless” might be Lorde’s most brutal breakup track — raw, relatable, and heartbreakingly precise. The lyrics “But I still remember everything / How we drift buying groceries / How you dance for me / I’ll start letting go of little things till I’m so far away from you” capture the gut-punch relatability of slow heartbreak, revealing the quiet devastation of love fading through everyday moments. The track takes a sharp turn over halfway in with “Loveless,” capturing the emotional whiplash of a breakup: one moment you’re devastated, wondering how to live without them, the next you’re bitter and pissed off. It’s Lorde’s razor-sharp precision in capturing the emotional chaos of a breakup that makes the song so powerful. — Mays

Lorde is deeply infatuated by a love sparking her senses, which leaves her heart ringing (“Broadcast the boom, boom, boom, boom”) as she muses on a romance worthy of a place in the world’s most storied museum. Still armed with her signature self-deprecation (“They’ll hang us in the Louvre. [Down the back, but who cares? Still The Louvre.]”), the track feels like the peak of her professional relationship with Jack Antonoff, who handled much of the co-writing and production duties on “Melodrama.” The specificity and construction of “The Louvre” stands among his best sonic work. — Earl

This Disclosure track was an unexpected showcase for Lorde’s vocals, as the duo’s pulsing beat brought her introspection to the club. With lyrics both romantic and hazy, the song seems a world away from her native New Zealand, as she muses on a guy illuminated by “smoke and sunset, off Mulholland.” Yet the yearning is pure Lorde, who still feels out of place (“Pretty girls don’t know the things that I know”), even as her song shakes the dancefloor. It’s just another night out for pop’s biggest introvert. — Earl

The song that not only launched a career but also brought a 16-year-old Ella Marija Lani Yelich-O’Connor. A dozen years later, the song — and subsequent “Pure Heroine” album — show a remarkably precocious talent, not just a great singer and songwriter but one with a strongly defined persona and a very clear sense of who she was. Watching her rise at the time was nearly unprecedented: In August, she played an introductory label showcase at New York’s tiny Le Poisson Rouge, and literally six months later she was performing before the world at the Grammy Awards, where she was nominated for four awards and won two, including song of the year. — Aswad

“Supercut” may be one of Lorde’s most upbeat tracks, but beneath its glittering pop exterior lies a deep undercurrent of heartbreak. The song captures the ache of remembering a relationship not as it was, but as you wished it had been — all glowing highlights and perfect moments spliced together like a montage. It’s a song about being haunted by a love that never truly existed, about clinging to an imagined version of what you hoped it would be. Bittersweet and hypnotic, “Supercut” is a dance track for the delusional — for those who ache for something perfect but can never quite grasp it. — Mays

“Royals” is the kind of song that can crush every other track on its home album (not to mention every other song by the artist), but as she so often is, Lorde is an exception. “Team” is almost as memorable as its predecessor; it’s just as much of a banger and contains the priceless lyric, “I’m kind of over gettin’ told to throw my hands up in the air,” which is something we want to say during nearly every single Coachella set. The song reached No. 6 on the Billboard Hot 100 and might have topped it if the title weren’t buried at the end of the chorus — we still think of it less by its actual name than “the one that goes ‘Oo-OO-oo.’” — Aswad

After the muted reception for her third album, “Solar Power,” “What Was That” felt like classic Lorde with a modern soundscape. Trading in one superproducer for a few others, Dan Nigro and Jim-E Stack deliver a clash of synths and tinny production that is worlds away from the work the former has done with Olivia Rodrigo. Yet Lorde’s sturdy vocal melody is an anchor for fans worried their muse might not return the same. In the wake of “Brat,” Lorde’s drug-fueled lyrics read as a photo negative to Charli xcx (“MDMA in the back garden, blow our pupils up / We kissed for hours straight, well, baby, what was that? / I remember saying then, ‘This is the best cigarette of my life’”), wistful and searching while everyone else at the rave is waiting for the beat to drop. — Earl

“Ribs” often steals the spotlight for its portrayal of teenage angst and suburban yearning, but the understated brilliance of “400 Lux” deserves just as much praise. Lorde’s other ode to suburbia trades chaos for quiet, capturing the comfort of aimless drives through house-lined streets where doing nothing with someone you love feels like everything. The track’s minimalist production and evocative lyrics carry a bittersweet nostalgia, creating a longing for a moment you’ve never actually lived. It evokes the slow, golden hours of youth — suspended in time, glowing with possibility. The track is haunting, intimate, and effortlessly timeless, a soft-spoken anthem for the in-between. — Mays