As K-pop supergroups go, Blackpink was — remains? — a supernova. In the late 2010s, it released a series of EPs and singles that emphasized maximalism and pandemonium. Its songs were huge, and pugnacious, and rowdy — a bit of a rejoinder to some of the delicate girl groups that preceded it, and a bit of a taunt about just how much mayhem a pop hit could contain.
Blackpink was also utterly modern — though functionally split between its true singers, Rosé and Jisoo, and its rappers, Lisa and Jennie, there was a surprising amount of vocal versatility across all the group members. Their flexibility kept the group’s music nimble and unpredictable — ideas arrived at warp speed, and departed almost as quickly.
After a few years, though, Blackpink’s chaos began to rattle and rankle a bit — its hugeness in sound, and also in global success, threatened to topple the empire.
And so there was a hiatus, albeit a brief one, that’s now ending with the release of solo projects by all four members, in advance of a reunion tour that begins in July. (Reunions aren’t what they used to be — the group last toured in 2023.)
In theory, the albums should be an opportunity to underscore what each of the four does best, and an opportunity to expand on the roles they played in the group — and sometimes the new releases do. But more often, holding the albums side by side tells a story about record label ambitions and the more legible parts of K-pop’s genre cross-pollination more so than the artistic ambitions of each member.
Lisa and Jennie, most responsible for Blackpink’s signature attitude, are reckoning with similar pressures on their new albums, both of which nod to the sound that made the group erupt while attempting to chisel out a path forward.
The raison d’être of Lisa’s “Alter Ego” is bombast — in this, it has the most in common with Blackpink’s biggest early hits. Near the top of the album, “Rockstar” into “Elastigirl” into “Thunder” land with sledgehammer subtlety. Chaotic and sassy, they inspire nostalgia for a not-that-far-gone era.
But then the needs of the present arrive. “New Woman,” a duet with the Spanish star Rosalía, has unexpected fortitude — Rosalía’s huskiness and Lisa’s coyness are a good match. That’s followed by “Fxck Up the World,” a messy collaboration with the Atlanta rapper Future, on which Lisa’s gum-snapping tone feels airless and not fluid.
From this point forward, Lisa is in a battle with her guests — not congealing with Megan Thee Stallion on “Rapunzel”; sounding tentative alongside the South African pop-R&B star Tyla on “When I’m With You.”
There are other flickers of the Blackpink style, like on “Badgrrrl,” which has cheeky lyrics that feel au courant but hollow: “I just spilled my drink all on his Mowalola / Everybody blowin’ up my Motorola.”
Paradoxically, on this album, Lisa sounds most comfortable when not being yanked by a hard-knocking beat — the final two songs, the guitar-pop thumper “Chill” and the straightforward ballad “Dream,” are the least anxious moments here.
Perhaps that’s because less is at stake. Both “Alter Ego” and Jennie’s album “Ruby” present them not as the innovators they were in the early Blackpink days, but as flexible cogs in the global pop machine. (Accordingly, both have branched out into television — Lisa on the current season of “The White Lotus,” and Jennie as a backstabbing pop aspirant on “The Idol.”)
The evidence is there in the credits of both albums: Much of the vocal production is by Kuk Harrell, who’s worked with Rihanna and Justin Bieber, and much of the mixing is by Serban Ghenea, the pop superstar go-to. Jennie’s album features songwriting from Amy Allen, last year’s biggest breakout thanks to her work with Sabrina Carpenter.
Like “Alter Ego,” “Ruby” has a glut of imported talent — the guests include Dua Lipa, who appears on a listless duet, “Handlebars,” and Doechii, who flatly and flamboyantly outraps Jennie on “ExtraL.” (Moments like these underscore that rapping in the K-pop world is sometimes graded on a curve.)
Jennie also finds a way to call back to her foundation in the group — “Like Jennie” is a wild dance-floor romp, produced partly by Diplo, that futurizes the Blackpink sound, and features some of Jennie’s toughest rapping. “Mantra” is a slightly smoothed-out, commercial-ready version of that approach, with a burst of vintage electro thrown in for good measure.
The moments of novelty on this album are more impressive, though, particularly “Start a War,” which Jennie tackles with the haughtiness of vintage Rihanna. “With the IE (Way Up)” sparkles with the same sample made famous by, depending on your scene history, Jennifer Lopez’s “Jenny From the Block” or “Watch Out Now” by the Beatnuts, both credibility markers in their own way. Most striking is the R&B groove Jennie settles into on the album’s back half — Bibi Bourelly, who’s written hits for Rihanna, has songwriting credit on several of these tracks.
All these big gestures and affiliations — they’re a boom indicator, a sign of a healthy budget. A sign of music industry belief in the possibility of something grand, or great, or maybe even both. (Each member is signed to a different label — Rosé to Atlantic, Jennie to Columbia, Jisoo to Warner, Lisa to RCA.)
There’s some of that on Rosé’s album “Rosie,” as well, notably in the breakout pop smash “APT.,” a freewheeling and sometimes silly duet with Bruno Mars that riffs on Toni Basil’s “Mickey” and went to No. 3 on the Billboard Hot 100.
Broadly speaking, though, as compared to Lisa and Jennie, Rosé and Jisoo appear to be in something like a retreat from the shadow of Blackpink. “Rosie” is curiously a musically tame album. Rosé instead emphasizes her big vocals, pointing to a talent that translates in and out of her group. “Number One Girl” is a quaintly melodramatic piano ballad about wanting to be accepted. “Two Years” and “Toxic Till the End” are back-to-back Taylor Swift homages, to her “Folklore” and “Lover” eras.
“Rosie” features big-name producers like Omer Fedi, Rogét Chahayed, Greg Kurstin and Cirkut; Allen has writing credits here, too. But they all add up to something quite different than on Jennie and Lisa’s albums. The firmness of Rosé’s voice shines through on this LP, which is the best and most consistent of these releases. With its commitment to starkness, it almost recalls a polished take on Lilith Fair-era pop, with galvanic feeling triumphing over filigree.
Jisoo’s “Amortage” is the slightest of the four releases — an EP rather than a full album. In the group, she was often the center of decorum, the classicist among the rapscallions. (She is also the only Blackpink member born and wholly raised in South Korea.)
“Amortage” is four songs — two in English, two primarily in Korean. The most effective is “Your Love,” which has the ecstasy of peak-era Katy Perry, merging sweetness with ambition and gloss. The rest of the songs are more in line with Blackpink’s history, but this one feels fresh — a nod to a simpler, and perhaps more sustainable, kind of hugeness. As a group, Blackpink wielded size as a weapon, but when that shield is down, the members are deciding whether to find new structures to attach to, or truly stand alone.
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