For an album whose press notes claim that its songs attempt to capture the “countless sides” of femininity, Tove Lo’s Dirt Femme mostly revolves around one major theme: love. “No one dies from love/Guess I’ll be the first,” she sings on the catchy opening track, “No One Dies from Love.” It’s as if the Swedish singer is trying to capture the all-consuming passion of romance, but it comes at the expense of a broader context, perhaps forgetting that the most famous love story of all time, Romeo and Juliet, culminates in both lovers dying.
The songs that immediately follow match the opener’s infectiousness. “2 Die 4” features a twinkling keyboard hook that subtly builds as Lo hypnotically invites her lover to “look alive and come with me,” while “Suburbia,” the gorgeous melody of which lingers in the mind, examines her reluctance to settle down, wary of becoming a “Stepford wife.”
Aside from those tracks, though, the rest of Dirt Femme feels comparably subdued both in its instrumentation and lyrical focus. “Cute and Cruel” and “I’m to Blame” are dominated by fingerpicked acoustic guitar and lack the sing-along hooks that have made Lo’s past efforts, especially 2016’s Lady Wood, so memorable. Lyrically, they don’t reveal much about her outlook on love or femininity other than that her conceptualization of such topics is undefined.
With the exception of the sensual “Pineapple Slice,” with its atmospheric synths and pretty chorus, the album veers back and forth between formulaic dance-pop and stripped-down ballads. With its lightly syncopated rhythm section, “Kick in the Head” sounds like an attempt to fuse an Anderson .Paak song with Lo’s typical synth-pop aesthetic, while album closer “How Long” features synth tones that wouldn’t sound out of place on the Tron: Legacy soundtrack.
Occasionally, Dirt Femme’s production works against both Lo’s pop instincts and her messages. “Attention Whore” finds her exploring the contradictions of stardom, recognizing that celebrities often seek attention without the self-awareness to understand why, but the track’s skittering drum machines and synthesizers completely drown out both Lo and guest Channel Tres’s vocals to the point where it’s hard to make out what either of them are singing.
As a collection of slightly melancholic, occasionally catchy dance-floor filler, it would be hard to quibble with Dirt Femme’s simple pleasures. But it’s burdened with a concept that’s under-explored, weighing down an album that promises to be so much more than what it is.
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