Tumblr’s Princess of Pop: MARINA Returns

We rate this album:
(★ ★ ★ ★ ☆)

Okay, so full transparency: this was meant to be a piece about Addison Rae’s debut album (named after herself). But somewhere between my fourth listen of New York and the algorithm sneaking Primadonna back onto my For You Page, the universe reminded me of a far more important pop event — MARINA (née and forever in our hearts as Marina and the Diamonds) has a new album out. Princess of Power. And as someone who had The Family Jewels blasting on Spotify from their teenage bedroom since 2012, it feels criminal not to talk about it.

First off — yes, it’s exactly as MARINA as you’d expect. Glittering synths, that unmistakable helium-and-honey vocal tone, and lyrics that sound like the inside of a 2013 moodboard account. If you’ve been with her since the Electra Heart days (and if you haven’t, what did you even cry about in your GCSE year?), you’ll recognise the same love of surface-level symbolism: love is red, sadness is blue, and power is always neon pink. It’s comforting in a way — like rediscovering an old jacket that still smells faintly of Impulse body spray.

___STEADY_PAYWALL___

But here’s where it gets sticky. While Princess of Pop is gorgeously produced — It’s gorgeously produced — think MARINA circa FROOT if she got locked in a Lisa Frank trapper keeper. The same fizzy hyper-pop flirtations, but rooted in MARINA’s old-school, Tumblr-era love of melodrama and metaphors you can see coming from a mile off. By that I mean, the lyrics sometimes veer into the kind of on-the-nose territory that would make even an early 2010s edit account hesitate. MARINA has always adored a Big Theme™: consumerism, toxic love, beauty standards. This time it’s pop stardom itself, and while she lands a few sharp one-liners, it occasionally feels like she’s reading out a Pinterest board caption. There are, no joke, three separate songs that list colours in the chorus. It’s cute. It’s cringe. It’s classic MARINA.

That said — it’s impossible not to root for her. There’s something beautifully unserious about how MARINA refuses to pivot to whatever tasteful alt-pop the industry keeps trying to manufacture. She’s still playing with hyperfemininity in a way that feels defiantly offline, even when the references are straight out of a chronically online playbook.

The album’s standout, Je ne sais quoi, feels like classic MARINA in the best way. It’s playful, theatrical, and just the right amount of ridiculous — a glittery synth-pop love letter to the kind of untouchable allure we all tried to bottle on Tumblr in 2013. There’s a giddy, teenage-in-love energy to it, but it’s polished with the kind of grown-up pop production that calls back to FROOT’s emotional sparkle — with those gorgeous, rich vocals. It’s MARINA at her most confident: leaning into the camp, the shimmer, and the knowing melodrama, and reminding us why we fell for her in the first place.

What makes Princess of Pop work is precisely that refusal to evolve in the way pop critics demand. MARINA’s not trying to be cool. She’s not making bedroom pop or sad-girl electronica. She’s making music for the girls who still own their Born to Die vinyl, the gays who can quote How to Be a Heartbreaker word-for-word, and the Tumblr-era survivors who remember when fandom discourse was carried out via glitter GIF sets.

So, no — Princess of Power is not perfect. It’s a little clunky, a little too fond of its own metaphors. But it’s MARINA. And if you’ve ever ugly cried to I Am Not A Robot at 3AM on a school night, you owe it to yourself to put on your best baby pink eyeshadow and give it a spin.

And Addison — your moment’s here too, and there’s something quietly perfect about MARINA passing the pop baton to a new wave of unapologetically careless, internet-raised stars.