Sophia Stel – “Power”

Sophia Stel is approximately 100% cooler than me. I've accepted this. I imagine attending one of her concerts in the capacity of a very supportive uncle, accompanying a newly 21-year-old niece or nephew who's convinced they're doing me a favor by allowing me to tag along. The looks from the surrounding crowd would suggest I've wandered into the wrong establishment. Excuse me? Have some respect. I have disposable income, an excellent credit limit, and a working knowledge of premium seating arrangements. That's why we're enjoying an unobstructed view of the stage while you're negotiating sightlines behind someone's exceptionally tall boyfriend. Sophia is the only person in this room permitted to out-power me.

And she appears to be taking that privilege seriously. “Power,” from her newly released debut album the greatest album of all time, is a passport full of adventures and a wonderfully inflated sense of possibility. Switzerland, London, Barcelona, Berlin, Paris. She's collecting stamps, admirers, and enough stories to make a customs officer reconsider their career. The electronic production has the momentum of a night that's already gone well past its scheduled ending, with Sophia delivering her travel diary like someone who has discovered that the entire world might actually be her guest list. I'm delighted for her. Slightly concerned about the itinerary, but delighted.

There's an appealing audacity to the whole thing, particularly coming from an artist whose career has accelerated so dramatically. Sophia has spoken about writing “Power” during her first trip to Europe, when the experiences were still happening around her. You can practically hear the disbelief turning into confidence. She's having fun, she's getting attention, she's finding her footing in unfamiliar places, and she's beginning to enjoy the authority that comes with it. The title feels earned, even when she's gleefully exaggerating the evidence.

We recently covered “I Do,” another standout from the album, where Sophia entertained the possibility of romantic commitment with considerably more tenderness than her club-ready production initially suggested. Here, she's taking herself out for a victory lap. I love that both versions of her exist on the same record, alongside an album title ambitious enough to make a publicist reach for the emergency contacts. The greatest album of all time? That's quite a claim. I respect the confidence. I'll need a little more time before submitting my ballot.

In the meantime, I've decided my hypothetical niece or nephew can keep their opinions about my presence at Sophia's concert to themselves. I'll be at the bar ordering something expensive, enjoying the music, and reminding anyone within earshot that enthusiasm has no age restriction. Besides, when Sophia starts singing about her newfound power, I intend to exercise a little of my own.