Ariana Grande, Eternal Sunshine

Ariana Grande has accomplished more in her three decades than most could in three lifetimes, including Broadway and TV roles, a prolific run of platinum-selling albums, Brits and Grammys among her many awards, and nearly a hundred billion streams. She’s also had a string of high-profile relationships, one of which saw the term “BDE” enter the global lexicon and catapult comedian Pete Davidson to superstardom, and another that ended in tragedy (rapper Mac Miller died by overdose four months after their breakup in 2018).

Grande had already been through the wringer at this point — in 2017, at one of her concerts in Manchester, 22 people were killed and 1017 were injured in a suicide bomber attack, leaving the singer with PTSD. It’s been a lot but to the delight of Grande’s millions of fans, she brazenly chronicles these extreme highs and lows, especially those of the romantic variety, in her songs.

The release of her seventh album Eternal Sunshine coincides with a particularly controversial chapter in her love life. Last year she split with her husband Dalton Gomez and was swiftly ensconced in a new relationship with Ethan Slater, her co-star in the upcoming movie Wicked. It’s still unclear as to whether Slater and Grande hooked up before or after he had separated from his wife, but it certainly makes for spicy fodder for the new record.

Lead single Yes, And? tackles the rumours directly. Over buoyant arrangements and strutting beats borrowed from ’90s catwalks, Grande shrugs off the haters, Shake It Off style. “Yes, and?/ Say that shit with your chest, and/ Be your own f—in’ best friend,” she purrs in the chorus, which can be interpreted as a homewrecker’s anthem or adapted to fit any poorly received choice.

The R&B slow jam True Story is loaded with even more venom, directed at her critics and/or Slater’s ex. “I’ll play the bad girl if you need me to/ If it makes you feel better/ I’ll be the one you love to hate, can’t relate/ Too much on my plate,” she coos with an imagined flick of her signature high ponytail.

Across the album, which chronologically traces the end of her marriage through to her blossoming new romance, Grande owns her decisions with lyrical and musical conviction, from Bye, a Broadway-worthy triumphant farewell to Gomez to the power pop of We Can’t Be Friends (Wait For Your Love), the most Max Martin-esque track (chugging beats, sparkling synths) on an album almost entirely produced by the Swedish pop genius, alongside fellow countryman and super-producer ILYA.