Never one to approach their art lazily, FKA Twigs has created an album that straddles dancefloor pop with fringe soundcrafting to make something that sounds truly unique. The album harkens to late 90s/early 2000s Madonna in parts, La Roux at other times, and all that classic FKA Twigs harsh but soft-spoken art pop throughout for something that bears familiarity in the most exciting discomforting way. “Girl Feels Good,” starts to crack the album open with a mix of soothing synths and mystifying cacophony in its sounds, creating a sonic lattice that is constant luring you in and then pushing your boundaries out. Building from an almost innocuous start, “Perfect Stranger” gains so many percussive and futuristic textures by its close that it becomes a usual but comforting blanket by its final dance beat. The most tantalizing track out of the album’s first half is the growling and dangerous “Drums of Death,” that while more of a frantic interlude than a single, brings such a vicious attack in its bones that it’s too fun to ignore. There’s an inherent sense of fun on “Childlike Things,” with the kinetic play between the beats and vocals making every hook and harmony a rich dose of pop sugar.
After opening on a xylophone-like ringing that plays like an incredibly funky retooling of the “Rugrats” theme, JayWood fills out the deep end of his sonic palette with his smooth vocals on the bouncy “Big Tings.” The track is all killer no-filler, as he quickly drops into a time-warp tunnel in deranged choruses that would make Superorganism jealous, while never easing up on that punchy bass. Jeremy Haywood-Smith collides with Tune-Yards for unhinged harmonies throughout the track, constantly swerving between bright and just fractured enough to make you wonder how they made it all work without collapsing. There’s such a grin to the bridge as Merrill Garbus’s lines are warped enough to become hard to parse from Haywood-Smith’s, adding to the cyclonic feeling the production brings at every turn in this track.
Letting nature itself seem to breathe throughout her music, Anna B Savage has a priceless knack for timbres and what’s going on in the background that’s often overlooked in quieter music like hers. Tender and warm, while providing truly full words through her lyrics, Savage’s album merges the depth of a relationship with her love of Ireland, and lets these feelings wash right over the sound. With instrumentation that trickles and sways in like breezes and rays of sun, “Talk to Me” has Savage sounding more like a master of the elements of nature than simply a composer. “Lighthouse” merges all these tones into a central chorus of tones that Savage swings around, with string dives making for magical whale/bird-like calls that boggle the mind in their texture. Even when shedding some of this naturalistic magic, “Donegal” sees the most melodically and vocally diverse performances out of Savage, as she describes a love of someone and Ireland itself, intertwined like the many strings and synths working together in this song. “Mo cheol Thú” paints a lush picture of two people exploring time together, and even dissecting Irish language itself in its quirky complexity that can unintentionally make even more romantic statements possible.
With their usual fire under the hood, “Roddy Piper” sees Casper Skulls back and appropriately in fighting form. Partly burnt out, and partly calling with desperation, the track has an inspiring glow about its choruses that makes you want to chant with the band. Their conflicting and grinding guitar tones are sharp as ever here, constantly making a back and forth between these hazy, sunburnt verses, and their washed-out choruses where everything glazes away. All the while you can slowly feel the noise and feedback take over the track until you can no longer escape it, with the wake of their riffs finally drowning you out in smoke.
One with the ability to zig where others zag, and weave magic in her music in a way that feels almost effortless, Klô Pelgag bears a spirit in her music that is consistently transfixing. Running the gamut from stirring, to classic cinematic pop, to outright bizarro production heaven, this record packs in a surprising number of pieces that all somehow fit into the final package. “Libre” sends you hurtling through frigid synths, and spacey worlds, often floating uncomfortably long before she sets you back running in waves of “uh uh” vocals and beautiful harmonies. The way parts drip into “Sans Visage” make for a fun ramp up in musical tension, as we end up experiencing the song through about ten different ideas, rather than have the pieces simply all join together. “Jim Morrison” has one of the most instantly infectious riffs of the record from Pelgag, playing against the track’s otherwise low-key energy, as she slinks through every moment before stomping into that riff triumphantly every time. However, it’s the vintage orchestral hits and saw-like synth runs on “Deux Jours et Deux Nuits,” that feels the most intensely distinct on this record, almost like a pop song baked out of “WarioWare” sound effects in the most bizarrely powerful way.
