When Ariana Grande released her previous studio album—eternal sunshine in 2024—the multitalented superstar was deep into the “Glinda-era” that consumed her glossy pop icon persona so wholly, the fact she was working on music at all during that time period came as something of a surprise. With Grande sporting a golden blonde ponytail and her voice lingering mainly in the upper reaches of her already flexible range to protect her vocal health, the two projects—eternal sunshine and Wicked—seemingly synthesized, capturing Grande as she absorbed new elements into her artistry, like a chameleon blooming into color. petal, however, arrives outside of the bubble that contained the Wicked franchise and its ubiquitous presence in pop culture, making Grande (signature brunette now restored) feel immediately more present and familiar as she continues to wrestle with her experiences in the public eye. There are shades from every one of her sonic palettes here. “never get over me” borrows its strutting confidence from Dangerous Woman, while “big feelings” (effortless wordplay with a coy wink on the side) demonstrates her ability to be both fun and funny, in the vein of tracks like “Side to Side.” Album closer “nowhere, nobody,” with its self-soothing lyrics and stacked vocal design, wouldn’t sound too out of place on Sweetener. It’s self-referential in that her inspirations—childhood favorites including Mariah Carey and Imogen Heap—are as much a part of her musical fingerprint as her own innate expressions that they show up repeatedly across her body of work. “I love a lot of different things,” Grande tells Apple Music. “I’ve always just been a strange little sponge for different sounds and I’ve always really stuck to what I like. I don’t really like listening to new things.” eternal sunshine found Grande still attempting to reason gently about her relationship with, perhaps, a lover. (Or was it her relationship to fame? Her fans? The media? Her own sense of self?) However, petal—also co-produced by Max Martin-protégé ILYA—strips out the warm tones of its predecessor, striking a camp, horror note that ties the prevailing themes together. From the title track’s slow, oppressive waltz with the pain she feels obliged to perform for public consumption and the plinky, discordant synth stabs of “like i do,” the songs sound less like fairy tales here and more like cautionary ones—maybe even the kind of “warning signs” she references in the telling interlude of that name. “I wrote from a place that I don’t usually, which was like an unfiltered rage that I think we all feel sometimes,” she says. “I usually am too shy to tap into that, and I think this time I kind of just didn’t filter as much as I usually do.” Still, the levity that often appears to be the source of Grande’s resilience in the face of public scrutiny remains. “I’m making friends with my consequence,” she sings on “like i do,” converting parasocial engagement into dollar amounts and later teasing “you hate to love me…” Sure. But for the record: she hates to love you too.