Karen Marie Ørsted is perhaps best known as the featured vocalist on Major Lazer’s 2015 hit “Lean On,” and the Danish artist’s solo work exists in a similarly synth-heavy, dance-pop realm. On MØ’s third album, Motordrome, there are intermittent moments that stand out for their darkness or sonic resourcefulness, but Ørsted’s music isn’t quite intricate enough rise above midgrade electro-pop and, for the most part, her hooks don’t have the anthemic rapture of songs by, say, Robyn or Empress Of.
The songs on Motordrome cover typical pop territory like lost love and the power of intimacy. The lyrics are vague to the point of emptiness, though they’re occasionally enlivened when Ørsted’s narrator figuratively puts her foot down. On “Live to Survive,” she sings, “You thought you were out of my league/I’m out of your league,” flipping the script as co-producer SG Lewis’s stomping 808s and torpedoing drum machine collide. And on the album’s best track, the lively “New Moon,” she insists that she’s “over you” while toying with prepositions (“under,” “over,” “down”), all punctuated by thunder-clapping synths.
Ørsted’s Scandinavian inflections and distinctive vocal modulations add color to her songs and can effectively transform otherwise pat lyrics. The way she pronounces “threshold” and “body” on “Punches” and “Goosebumps,” respectively, imbues the songs with a delightful sense of drama. For all its stripped back piano balladry, “Goosebumps,” includes a fun flourish that makes it sound as if she’s emitting a toad-like “ribbit” at the end of a verse.
With its grooving bassline and disco-funk trappings, “New Moon” evokes Dua Lipa’s Future Nostalgia, though Ørsted does attempt to adapt current pop trends to her own sonic world. The pared-down indie-pop acoustics of “Wheelspin” and “Youth Is Lost” have an off-kilter charm, complete with bridge where the drums and bass drop out, isolating Ørsted’s naked vocal and some lonely strums a la Clairo. The crunchy “Cool to Cry” initially sounds like a spin on the current pop-punk resurgence, but the guitar solos on “Brad Pitt” and “Hip Bones” tend more toward the arena rock of Miley Cyrus’s Plastic Hearts than the fleet emo-pop jams found on Olivia Rodrigo’s Sour.
When Ørsted ramps up the bombast, Motordrome reaches a serviceable level of pop pageantry. But most of the singer’s cooed melodies feel comparatively half-hearted. Ultimately, the album has a way of getting your attention and failing to keep it.
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