Music

This is ranked last because Grande is absent on the track. “Saturn Returns” is an interlude that finds astrologer Diana Garland explaining the concept of a Saturn Return: a phenomenon where the planet Saturn completes its cycle around the sun and reaches the same point it was at during a given person’s birth. This normally happens around age 29 or 30, with the effects of increased mental clarity appearing as early as 27.

“It’s time for you to get real about life and sort out who you really are,” explains Garland. Even if it’s an overt allusion to Eternal Sunshine being a concept album, it’s probably necessary in era where interpretation and reading between the lines is essentially a lost art.

Nonna, the lone feature on Eternal Sunshine and Grande’s beloved grandmother, is the glue that ties the whole concept of the album together. Grande opens her latest LP with a question: “How can I tell if I’m in the right relationship?” By the end of the record, Nonna grants granddaughter an answer: “Never go to bed without kissing goodnight. It’s the worst thing to do. Don’t ever, ever do that. And if you can’t, and if you don’t feel comfortable doing it, you’re in the wrong place. Get out.”

Outside of Nonna’s sage advice, “Ordinary Things” is a fine closer. While it’s not as immediately impactful as the album’s punchiest numbers, it does provide a sense of closure and extend the light, atmospheric quality of the record’s overall sound. Lyrically, Grande lists off literal ordinary things — à la “Winter Things” — that feel anything but ordinary when she’s with the person she loves. It’s a smart closer because those lyrics hold more weight after wading through the rubble littered throughout the rest of the album. But, dynamically, “Ordinary Things” is a little too understated for its own good.

For all the talk of the house influences on Eternal Sunshine, there wasn’t enough chatter about the overarching influence of ’90s R&B and pop melodies across the record. On “Don’t Wanna Break Up Again,” Grande paints across those melodies with a vocal tone somewhere between apathy, fatigue and yearning. “I made it so easy/ Spent so much on therapy/ Blamed my own codependency/ But you didn’t even try/ When you did it was at the wrong time,” she sings in an especially cutting second verse.

Grande’s manipulation of her tone has improved so much between Positions and Eternal Sunshine (thank you, Wicked!), and she uses it to her advantage of “Don’t Wanna Break Up Again.” Yes, the track is another gloomy dance bop, but the intentionality of her vocal choices — that run on “won’t abandon me for you and I” is gloriously cathartic — is what makes her take on the style feel so singular.

One thing you can always depend on Ariana Grande to do is to body an intro. Tapping into the same string-laden melodrama that courses through past album openers like “Shut Up,” “Imagine,” “Moonlight” and “Honeymoon Avenue,” Grande minces no words on “End of the World.”

“How can I tell if I’m in the right relationship/ Aren’t you really supposed to know that s–t?/ Feel it in your bones and own that s–t/ I don’t know,” she ponders. Grande immediately places us in the throes of a relationship that’s been crumbling for much longer than she’s realized. It’s that sense of imminent doom that warrants a title as flashy as “End of the World” and a vocal performance that’s equal parts cavalier and utterly distraught. From the opening sound of vinyl static to the morose background guitar, “End of the World” continues Ariana’s streak of highly effective album intros.

In the time since “Yes, And?” first entered the world, the house bop has spent a week atop the Hot 100 and earned a remix from Mariah Carey. Already a fine single — but far from Grande’s best — “Yes, And?” is ultimately a song that is best experienced in the context of its full parent album. Placed directly after the villainous “The Boy Is Mine,” “Yes, And?” pulls Eternal Sunshine out of that alternate reality and transforms the verve of its predecessor into the unbothered energy that courses through the Hot 100 chart-topper. Given its lyrical content (“Why do you care so much whose d–k I ride?”) and in-your-face house sound, it’s clear why this was the lead single — but it’s by no means the best of what Eternal Sunshine has to offer.

In many ways, “Supernatural” is the “Breathin’” of Eternal Sunshine, an undeniable home run and surefire pure-pop smash. Grande’s lyrical preoccupation with the magic of love is an interesting juxtaposition to the thinly-veiled astrology themes that ground the record, but with a melody this sticky, it works. If there’s a place where “Supernatural” falters, it’s the repetition of the “it’s like supernatural” refrain, which can get a bit grating. Nonetheless, by the time she unleashes the full extent of her vocal power on the final chorus, she’s too deeply submerged in a vat of absolute pop bliss for that to really matter.

Already confirmed as the album’s second radio single, “We Can’t Be Friends” immediately feels like an elevated version of 2014’s top 10 hit (and Grande’s first Weeknd collab) “Love Me Harder.” Pulsating synths are the name off the game here, with Grande operating right from the “Dancing On My Own” playbook.

“We can’t be friends/ But I’d like to just pretend/ You cling to your papers and pens/ Wait until you like me again/ I’ll wait for your love,” she croons over a dancefloor-quaking amalgam of dizzying strings, aggressive synths and wistful background vocals. Just as she blurs the lines between fiction and reality across the album, she croons about the fuzzying of the boundaries between friendship, romance and the aching gray in between on “We Can’t Be Friends.” As concise as the track is, it is missing a climax to really achieve the catharsis that its urgent instrumental gestures toward.

It’s something of a surprise that the title track for an album that displays such marked personal and artistic growth for Grande is so firmly planted in the trap-infused pop&b of Sweetener and Thank U, Next — but it’s still great. Across Eternal Sunshine, Grande’s tone is quite melancholic, and that holds true on the title track, with the hints of sadness and regret pairing well with the bubbly background synths. She opts to infuse the chorus with sneaky trips into her head voice, which brings a sense of fragility that underscores the vulnerability of her songwriting.

By the time she gets to the “deep breaths, tight chest” bit in the post-chorus, that staccato delivery provides a smart showcase of the anxiety that comes with ending a relationship and choosing to finally walk away from the rubble and into the light. “Now it’s like I’m looking in the mirror/ Hope you feel all right when you’re in her/ I found a good boy, and he’s on my side/ You’re just my eternal sunshine,” she sings.

While it may be hard to see now through the sheen of monster smashes like “7 Rings” and “34+35,” Imogen Heap is a formative influence for Ariana Grande. On “I Wish I Hated You” — a deeply confessional track that directly plays into the album’s connection to Spotless Mind — Grande taps into those influences and turns them into an utterly devastating electro-pop ballad.

With a vocal performance that oscillates between an evocative tone reminiscent of her “Still Hurting” cover to staccato delivery that emulates the whimsical background synths, Grande unpacks the pesky desire to wish an ex-lover was worse to you, so that it’s easier for you to move forward and find closure. It’s really heavy, heady stuff, and probably the most personal she’s gotten on wax since 2019’s “Ghostin’,’” but it’s refreshingly honest. She’s done the sweeping love ballads and uptempos in the past, but here Grande challenges herself and her listeners to delve into the intricacies of a love that has evolved past serving either party.

Like any great pop star, Ariana Grande knows what people want — even if those people aren’t sure for themselves. There’s a reason (beyond it being a catchy song) that “Break Up With Your Girlfriend, I’m Bored” debut at No. 2 on the Hot 100 back in 2019. People love a villain! Especially when it’s tongue-in-cheek.

Enter: “The Boy Is Mine,” a sleek flip of the Grammy-winning Brandy and Monica duet of the same name. Here, Grande enters full bad girl mode. “The boy is mine/ I can’t wait to try him/ Let’s get intertwined/ The stars, they align,” she croons, winking at the celestial imagery that grounds most of the LP. With a trap-inflected spin on the ’90s R&B sound that “Fantasize” pulled from, Grande gets the perfect backdrop for her to employ a combination of a slick rap-sung cadence and a breathy coos. Let’s not forget those tempo changes that help emphasize the push and pull of the song’s love triangle and Ariana’s relationship to the public’s perception of her.

The front half of Eternal Sunshine is packed with Robyn-esque sad-girl dancefloor bangers, and “Bye” stands heads and shoulders above the rest. Despite its unassuming title, the dance-pop track combines stirring strings and slight disco influences to soundtrack Ariana’s exit from a serious relationship. Full of funk and the spirit of liberation, Ariana dives in deeper into the vocal diva bag she first rummaged through on lead single “Yes, And?”

The whole song is fantastic, but the pre-chorus might just be the single best moment on all of Eternal Sunshine: “So, I grab my stuff/ Courtney, just pull up in the driveway / It’s time,” she croons in an ever-ascending falsetto that somehow holds space for both the anxiety and excitement of new beginnings, and the innate comedy of Grande’s songwriting. An elder sister of sorts to 2016’s “Greedy,” “Bye” is an absolute gem.

It might have been a bit cruel to wait twelve tracks to bring back the dry, morose guitars she teased in the album’s intro, but “Imperfect for You” is worth it. After a barrage of high-octane dance tunes and a carousel of different characters, “Imperfect” is a breath of fresh air. The sound is certainly not Grande’s usual, but fans of her “Don’t Dream It’s Over” cover will really enjoy how uncluttered and bare “Imperfect” sounds.

A devastating ballad that finds Grande crooning about a love story eventually becoming a “happy disaster,” “Imperfect for You” is a valiant attempt at parsing through the complicated emotions that follow a relationship’s demise. Holding the good and the bad alongside an eternal connection that may no longer be a romantic one is a tall order, but Grande’s tender timbre and revelatory lyrics (“How could we know/ That this was a happy disaster/ I’m glad we crashed and burned”) get the job done.

The beauty of a concept album is the freedom it grants Ariana to assume different characters that are, in a way, conduits for her to respond to rumors, defend her honor and flip the script on her detractors by playing the role they’ve cast her in — and then absolutely smashing it.

With its obvious nods to the ’90s pop&B bounce of “Fantasize” — a leaked track of hers that went mega-viral on TikTok in 2023 — “True Story” is probably the smartest song that Grande has ever made. We’re all aware of the controversy that ensued when tabloids pounced on a messy love triangle comprised of Grande, Wicked co-star Ethan Slater and his wife last year. The public backlash against Grande was swift, with supporters and detractors reaching nearly the same decibel level. To some, Grande was the consummate contemporary homewrecker and the prime example of someone who is not a girl’s girl. With “True Story,” Grande says, “Okay. I’ll be that, then.”

“I’ll play whatever part you need me to/ And I’ll be good about it too,” she croons over a soundscape that’s strikingly reminiscent of Timbaland and Missy Elliott‘s futuristic productions for Aaliyah. Grande has described “True Story” as “an untrue story based on untrue events,” and that narrative fuzziness allows her to do something that’s vital for pop music — and something that we’ve moved away from in this ongoing era of relatability reigning supreme — be a provocateur.

From the Positions-esque layers of background harmonies to a Thank U, Next-indebted take on drum-heavy pop&B and a belty final chorus straight out of the My Everything era, “True Story” ushers the pop star templates of Grande’s past into her present configuration: an artist unafraid to blur fiction and reality in her quest to reclaim her truth for herself in front of the entire world.