Last week’s anticipated Rapture may have yielded anti-climactic results, but the Lord did appear in Boston—Lorde with an ‘e’ that is. Previously self-described as a “prettier Jesus,” one could liken a Lorde concert to a house of worship, but for her Ultrasound Tour, she instead transformed TD Garden on Sept. 26 into a stripped-back warehouse rave, sharing the smoky spotlight with every person in the room. 

The New Zealand singer, known off-stage as Ella Yelich-O’Connor, released her fourth album, “Virgin,” earlier this year. On the record, she returned to her signature dark-pop sound with a modern electronic synth flare. This was her first release in nearly four years, and the “Ultrasound Tour” marks her return to the stage after a three-year hiatus. 

Following openers The Japanese House and Blood Orange, who both infused the venue with a sonically atmospheric vibe, any remaining equipment was cleared off the stage. Left behind was a slate gray stage resembling a blank canvas onto which Lorde would soon illustrate the story of rebirth and personal evolution through her decade-spanning discography. 

Isolated, reverberating synths pounded through the speakers as a strobing clear blue laser scanned the thrust of the stage. Accompanied by a mass of screaming fans, the singer elevated through an opening in the stage floor and above the crowded pit: Lorde had risen.

Donning a blue cropped tee and baggy ripped jeans, Lorde was joined by two contemporary dancers and a band located in sunken pits flanking both sides of the stage. Her performance felt raw; it was free of polished visuals and couture costumes, granting her permission to run, dance, flail, and make the stage her own. 

Following her 2013 hit “Royals,” Lorde performed a track off of her recent release. The alt-pop song, “Broken Glass,” discusses her struggle with body dysmorphia and an eating disorder, first mentioned when she worked it out on the remix of Charli XCX’s “Girl so confusing.” 

While singing, “I spent my summer getting lost in math / Making weight took all I had / Won’t outrun her if you don’t hit back / It’s just broken glass,” the two contemporary dancers remained cemented in their positions throughout the song while fighting with their own clothing and vigorously eating an apple, visualizing the vulnerability and tension in the lyrics.

Throughout the night, various obscure objects were brought onto the stage to accompany a song. During “Buzzcut Season,” a massive industrial fan, illuminated from within, cast a geometric shadow onto the singer as she performed to a camera fixated behind its blades. Its gentle whirring gave Lorde a windswept appearance as she sang.

With the fan gone, the searing blue laser returned to form a floating intersection through Lorde’s core as she performed “Perfect Places.” The cool-toned hues, strobing lasers, and flashes reinforced the Ultrasound theme, leaving every audience member subject to the X-ray-esque scanning of the lights that seeped through the billowing smoke. 

Moving onto “Shapeshifter,” it was as if Lorde underwent an MRI sized up to an arena scale. A circular light fixture, previously floating above the stage, was lowered nearly to the singer’s feet. With its lights strobing in sequence around Lorde, the stage became an artistic tableau of a medical scan. 

Even without intricate lighting, each moment felt as exposed and raw as a public CT scan. Nearing the end of “Current Affairs,” Lorde began to remove her black low-top sneakers and jeans, revealing Calvin Klein boxer briefs underneath. She continued to perform across a stage littered with fallen microphone stands and the remnants of stripped-off clothing, even bringing the camera inches from her abdomen as she bared her skin on the massive LED screen for the thousands in the audience. 

If the music didn’t make it clear enough, Lorde used her performance to reinforce the message of “Virgin”: embracing her body and self and, thereby experiencing a rebirth. On stage, she showed this raw authenticity as Lorde, but in doing so allowed the audience to see Ella. 

By freeing herself to be vulnerable, Lorde allowed the audience to do the same and created an intimate community in a room large enough to fit nearly 20,000. 

“I take none of this for granted, Boston,” she said. “We’re here because we like the same stories. We like telling them over and over. I like telling this one.”

As Lorde began singing “The Louvre” from her 2017 sophomore album “Melodrama,” it felt like something had shifted in TD Garden. The arena was no longer housing a concert, but rather a communal gathering, each person open to the connection being initiated. A combination of Lorde’s personal lyricism and her expressive performance felt familiar and mesmerizing all at once.

Climbing atop a square stack of subwoofer speakers, Lorde raised a flare to the sky as the track faded out. 

“We always have the best time here. I feel really understood. I’m just really tuned in to how many people are in this room. It’s actually incredible this many people have something in common…It’s very, very cool,” the singer said in an expression of awe and appreciation. “I feel like it’s harder and harder to have a lot in common with people, so this is special.”

Lorde asked to see the audience, and the house lights rose. Speaking to the crowd as if one-on-one, Lorde shared her appreciation for every person in the room. 

“It’s not just me and this band up here making sound in this room; every single person in this room is making the sound you hear. We are in concert, Boston,” she said. “I just want you to really soak up this feeling of being connected to all these people around you, because it’s rare, it’s special.”

As the audience parted just enough, Lorde narrowly walked through the crowded pit in an LED panel vest, singing “David,” as reverberating, echoing synths ricocheted off the arena walls. 

Standing on a platform at the opposite end of the pit, she performed “A World Alone” for the first time this tour and nearly three years after the song’s last performance. It was a gift to Boston, she said, for the special experience they created that night.

A final blue beam of light stretched across TD Garden as crowds freely danced both on the floor and out of their seats, clinging onto the final moments of a transformative night backed by the ultra-sonic melodies that united a crowd of thousands into a community forever connected. 

She concluded with the fan favorite “Ribs,” described as her “oldest and most precious song.” In a final moment of vulnerability, she held this song out as a last communion: an offering to the audience.

“Will you accept it?” she asked.