On the internet, rock purists and Nineties nostalgists debate the merits – the work, the authenticity, the knowledge – of Olivia Rodrigo. Why is she wearing babydoll dresses? Does she really like the Breeders? How’d she get Robert Smith to sing on her album?
In the real world, 64,000 people entered the lottery to attend the 23-year-old’s July 29 Austin City Limits taping. Only 2,000 won tickets to the performance, which premieres on PBS Oct. 9. Despite healthy skepticism of a Disney-launched pop star toying with the counterculture, Rodrigo proved at the taping that the reason for her demand is, really, quite simple: The children yearn for pop-rock – the Breakaway-era Kelly Clarkson belters, the edgy early singles by fellow former child stars Miley Cyrus and Demi Lovato – and multi-faceted women role models, too.
Rodrigo’s 12-piece band, composed entirely of women and nonbinary musicians, drummed up a brief racket, ominous yet controlled, before kicking into “my way,” a sneering kiss-off from new LP you seem pretty sad for a girl so in love. Though the June release largely expands the songwriter’s Aughts emo and Nineties grunge palette into Eighties New Wave terrain, the set’s opening track bridged the eras, Elise Solberg’s ambulance siren synths evoking the same brattiness as, say, 2021’s “Misery Business”-interpolating hit “good 4 u.”
The album’s chamber pop lead single “drop dead” then gave way to “u + me = <3,” a jangly, head-over-heels snapshot of early-relationship giddiness that sounds more like the Cure (albeit at their Kiss Me Kiss Me Kiss Me sweetest) than you seem pretty sad for a girl so in love song “the cure,” or even “what’s wrong with me,” which features Smith himself.
Of course, Rodrigo balanced these jovial numbers with plenty of slowed-down confessionals; before there was “good 4 u,” in case you forgot, there was “drivers license.” The taping brought forth the live debut of “stupid song,” a track the artist said was about “losing touch with reality” when lovestruck, and “honeybee,” a dramatic showcase of plucked violins, acoustic guitar, and Rodrigo’s piano skills. Alongside these new numbers, the singer dug back into her catalog to hit her most emotional peaks: that Grammy-winning song about learning how to drive as well as “vampire,” the massive-but-maudlin lead from 2023’s GUTS.
I’ve always preferred a banger to a ballad, however, which made “bad idea right?” a particular thrill. She may have enlisted three dedicated backup singers – guitarists Daisy Spencer and Arianna Powell also had mics of their own – to round out her vocals, but as Moa Munoz’s bass thrummed, Rodrigo’s smirking excuses for her narrator’s breakup slip-up (“just tripped and fell into his bed”) shot a sense of suggestiveness into her otherwise polished persona.
Toward the end of her 16-song set, the artist introduced “the cure” as her favorite song from you seem pretty sad for a girl so in love, and maybe her favorite song from her entire discography. It expresses something, she said, that she’s been trying to convey in her music for a long time: No matter how badly we all want it, romantic love won’t fix us, or save us from our worst impulses. Like all Rodrigo compositions, the song swelled into a sweeping chorus. But in its first minute, as guitarist Powell repeated the same two tortured minor chords, “the cure” felt like the kind of melancholy indie rock demo you’d hear at 2am on college radio – and a compelling preview of what the young songwriter’s discography could develop into, should she follow its sonic threads.
Following a climactic run through you seem pretty sad… closer “cigarette smoke,” Rodrigo wrapped with two songs she assured us were “much less of a bummer.” “expectations,” the best of the artist’s Eighties experimentation, buzzed and bounded with a buoyant synth line, snappy percussion, and the singer’s hopeful single-girl affirmations that she’d soon grow to become secure and evolved. Nodding to Gwen Stefani’s storied onstage “Just a Girl” crowdwork, she invited the girlies in the audience repeat her mantra – “I’ve got big expectations” – before tapping the fellas to tweak the same refrain, recreating the track’s “Material Girl”-esque backing baritone with a “She’s got big expectations.” Spirits high, Rodrigo led her adoring audience through a call-and-response run of early hit “deja vu,” wrapping the taping with electropop shimmer.
I’m befuddled by doubts that Rodrigo is inspired by artists like Bikini Kill or the Breeders. Her upcoming Daisy Chain Fields festival, an all-women, all nonprofit-benefitting one-day affair, proves her interest in such culture-shifting, activist-minded music, even if her own output is glossier. Though more about relationships than revolution, she delivers her songs live with a grimace and an eye roll; love, she understands, is embarrassing yet all-encompassing, and oftentimes our first lesson in broader disaffection.
Take it from me if you won’t take it from her: Sometimes you gotta listen to “Since U Been Gone” before you can understand “Asking For It.”
Olivia Rodrigo’s Austin City Limits appearance premieres Oct. 9 on PBS.
