At the Met Gala, in interviews and across her platforms, Lorde has been hinting at a shift in her gender identity; a broadening she didn’t expect. In a conversation with Chappell Roan, she shared, “I’m a woman except for the days when I’m a man.” Her new single, “Man of the Year,” reflects these reflections so beautifully, serving as a powerful first glimpse into her upcoming album, Virgin. Known for her poetic lyricism and fearless authenticity, Lorde has always pushed boundaries in her music, but this moment feels different — softer, more vulnerable, and brimming with raw self-discovery. It’s an invitation to witness her rebirth, her grappling with identity, and her refusal to be boxed in by traditional labels.

Let’s dive deeper into this single, its beautiful, impactful lyrics, and the evocative music video that brings them to life.

Verse 1

Gliding through on my bike, gliding through
Like new from my recent ego death
Sirens sing overnight, violent, sweet music
You met me at a really strange time in my life

Take my knife and?I?cut?the cord
My babe?can’t believe I’ve?become someone else
Someone more like myself

The first verse sets the tone with a vivid image: Lorde riding through the city, free and changed, a subtle reference to her previous single “What Was That,” where she’s also seen biking through New York. The mood is reflective, almost dreamlike, as she moves through the aftermath of what she calls an “ego death.” The last three lines are the emotional core: Lorde cuts the cord, symbolically severing the divide between her masculine and feminine selves. It’s a powerful moment of becoming — of shedding what no longer fits and stepping into something truer. She’s described Virgin as “the sound of my rebirth,” and this verse captures the first breath of that new self.

In a May 15, 2025 interview with Brittany Spanos for Rolling Stone, she explained:

I had cut some sort of cord between myself and this regulated femininity. It sounds crazy, but I felt that all of a sudden, I was off the map of femininity. And I totally believed that that allowed things to open up.

The video opens with a close-up of Lorde, the camera slowly pulling back to reveal her alone in a spacious white room, sitting simply on a chair dressed in a white t-shirt and blue jeans. The minimalism of the setting draws full focus to her presence. Then right after the “more like myself” line in the video, she begins to remove her shirt. That moment marks a clear shift, and the gender theme of the song begins to unfold fully.

Chorus

Who’s gon’ love me like this?
Oh, who could give me lightness?
Let it flow down to me
Love me like this
Now I’m broken open
Uh-uh

One of the scariest parts of coming to terms with your gender — especially when it doesn’t align with what you were assigned at birth or exists outside the binary — is wondering whether the people around you, especially the ones you love, will still see you, understand you, and stay. To me, this chorus speaks directly to that fear. The vulnerability in her voice, paired with the lyrics, expresses that longing for acceptance so clearly. And as she begins to bind her chest right after singing it, the symbolism deepens. It’s a quiet, powerful moment of self-recognition and courage.

Verse 2

Now I go ’bout my day riding it like a wave
Playing it any way I want
Swish mouthwash, jerk off
Uh-uh-uh-uh-uh
Days go by in the haze, stay up and sleep late

In the second verse, Lorde explores what life feels like without the weight of being seen strictly as a woman. There’s a sense of freedom in the mundane — riding each day like a wave, letting go of structure, control, and expectation. It’s messy, soft, unapologetic. These lines express a new ease with her body and identity, detached from societal pressures. The verse feels like a quiet rebellion: she’s living for herself, not performing for anyone else.

As the second chorus hits, Lorde gets up and walks — proudly, with her newly flat chest — taking up space instead of shrinking herself, rejecting the way women are often taught to dim or disappear.

Outro

How I hope that I’m remembered, my
Gold chain, my shoulders, my face in the light, oh
I didn’t think he’d appear
Let’s hear it for the man of the year
Hear it for the man of the year
Let’s hear it for the man of the year

The outro is the most impactful part of the song. With sweeping cellos, booming drums, and layered synths, it feels like something out of the show Euphoria — cinematic, raw, and emotionally charged. The lyrics are equally striking. Lorde isn’t asking to be remembered by her assigned gender or by the roles others placed on her. She wants to be remembered simply as herself.

In the music video, this moment is visually echoed when she literally dives into brown sand — a powerful metaphor for surrendering fully, letting go of fear, and embracing her true self without hesitation. 

The line “I didn’t think he’d appear” could reflect a moment of realization — that she never imagined, in the past, that her gender could be this fluid or expansive. That the “man” in her, long buried or unacknowledged, would finally surface and stand in the light with her.

This resonates deeply with something she shared recently about her recovery from an eating disorder: “My gender got way more expansive when I gave my body more room.” 

The music video closes with Lorde lying on the sand, facing us with a glimpse of her chest tape visible as she breathes slowly. Then she slowly turns away, her back to the camera, curling almost into a fetal position. There’s something profoundly intimate and vulnerable in this final image — the way her body moves and settles feels like a visual expression of both dysphoria and euphoria. It’s hard to put into words, but this quiet moment speaks to me deeply, capturing the tension between discomfort and relief, struggle and peace.

The line that gives the song its name — “Let’s hear it for the man of the year” — takes on even more meaning when you know its origin. In an interview with Triple J, Lorde revealed that the song began to take shape in 2023, the day after she attended GQ’s “Man of the Year” award ceremony. “I wore a ‘hot girl dress’ and felt so not like myself” she shared. “The next day we were in the studio and I was like, ‘I wanna write a song about how I’m the man of the year to me.’” It’s a powerful reclamation, turning a moment of dysphoria and disconnection into a declaration of self-worth, on her own terms.

Alongside the video, Lorde posted a block of fragmented, poetic text that reads more like a journal entry than a press release. It’s raw and intimate, a window into her inner transformation: “Biking. Smoking. Swimming. New strength in my shoulders.” These snapshots of daily life aren’t just aesthetic, they reflect a shift in embodiment, in identity. The line “first taping my chest” is especially striking, a moment charged with fear and liberation. “So scared to be him” suggests not only the discomfort of confronting masculinity in herself, but also the societal weight that comes with it. And yet, by the end, she’s reclaiming it — “laying back on the white couch w the mic in my hand and letting it happen.” What follows is a collage of sensation and symbolism: sun, fruit, voice, art. It’s messy, textured, and alive — just like a rebirth should be. This isn’t just a teaser for a video. It’s Lorde mapping the shape of her becoming.

Let’s not forget — Lorde hasn’t changed her pronouns, at least for now, and still identifies as a cis woman. But as someone who describes herself as “in the middle, gender-wise,” she’s clearly at the beginning of something : exploring, unfolding, discovering. And to see a mainstream artist do that so publicly, and with such softness, feels incredibly meaningful. As a trans person myself, it’s just beautiful to witness.

(Also, a quick but important note: please don’t tape your chest with regular tape. Use trans tape or kinesiology tape that’s designed to be gentle on skin. Be safe, pals.)

Watch the whole music video HERE

Pre-save Virgin HERE out on June 27.

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