While it’s undeniable that Robyn has asserted a strong mix of pop and cult status thanks to some divine sad-dance hits, she has remained a pop fixture thanks to her ability to be a little weird, and all too honest. In an album that reminds listeners how she paved the way for descendants like Tove Lo, Robyn cranks up bass, unusual production, explicit lyricism and sadness to the right levels to give a very personal record that is at its best in its unexpected moments, rather than trying to knock out singles. There’s a classic but newly defined build on “Dopamine,” with Robyn letting the electronics pile and mount with her vocals, for a booming dance track with an emotional void that keeps it just a touch sad. Meanwhile, “Blow My Mind” takes a smaller pop song and blends in late Daft Punk-style production, a bit of 80s pop, and about five other layers of style to make something wholly her own in its weird but entrancing collision. “Talk to Me” is the most direct charge on the record, perhaps losing that more quirky personality that makes the record really shine, but showing Robyn is still at her radio highs and is still able to weave her more singular lyricism into the mix. Speaking of words, “Sexistential” is the upfront diary-read of a track, with so many blunt, honest lyrics that some fellow celebs may be blushing amidst dancing in its moody club vibes.
Picking up very much where the Loaded Honey spin-off left off, Jungle’s latest single feels like it’s taking the writing of that record and bringing it through this project’s production style. A far cry from the fast, danceable and loaded with funky electronics sound they’ve been doing as of late, this is a more acoustically-charged track, playing with soul and old pop ideas with a lot of subtle production under the hood to elevate it. All this front-loaded detail aside, the track is effortlessly charming in its suave melodies and atmosphere, with Lydia Kitto’s smooth vocals turning it into a true dream amidst all the harmonies. If anything, the only note to give this song is that it feels so of that other album, and particularly the blood of “Don’t Speak,” that it makes one wonder if it’s supposed to signal a shift for this new album, or perhaps just give fans an easy transition back to the mothership.
As much as she’s always been a lyricist that you can’t look away from, it’s refreshing to see Courtney Barnett try and reinvigorate her sound with the same level of unique focus. Expanding herself as an artist through this broader approach, Barnett feels more fleshed out as an artist, and has reinvigorated her appeal as a whole thanks to it. “Stay in Your Lane” reminds us all of that fun, unpredictable angle of Barnett’s writing that she’s always had but doesn’t always focus into the production and sound of her work, resulting in a dizzying, punk-infused number that feels more floating and bizarre. She’s truly all the better for it. There’s a sunburnt joy in “Site Unseen” with Waxahatchee on board that makes for a great dance through the countryside, letting go together and enjoying friendship. The rolling sun in the guitar lines of “Mantis” light up the room, with the bass booming like a heartbeat and the whole track glowing with the slightly atypical way it’s mixed, resulting in something truly unique. Though you get a bit more of a classic Barnett sound on “Sugar Plum,” there’s such fun in the mix of lo-fi and glossier production that it feels like a true bridge between her eras in how it merges all these aesthetics.
There’s a sweeping air of mystery to the verses of Carmen Toth’s “Fix the World” that layers sundrenched guitars, soft arpeggios and stormy cymbals into a hazy dance. It’s almost a shock how hard the song grinds in those choruses by contrast, until that organ surges above it all to create a similar wave of budding hope. This tension serves the natural tension of the song’s narrative, with Toth questioning how to be “normal” in a world falling apart and trying to find your own centre amidst that all. The wails she pushes out in the bridge-chorus near the song’s end have a satisfying urgency as a result of all this, with her frantic kick and flail really adding to that sense of helplessness.
With grooves summoned from the gods and timbres that feel too sweet to turn down, Ali & Charif Megarbane craft a record that sends you on a dazzling mind trip. There’s a true riffing fun to the instrumental charge of “Abaday” that you can even hear the players laughing at times, clearly just having a ball riding through the magical energy their crafting and grooving like the best. A smoky and vicious groove takes over “Mata Api,” with such a cinematic sprawl to the blend of arrangements that you feel pulled into a mysterious club just from the melodies alone. “Bandar Batavia” has a more extended interlude float to it, with sublime tones across the board, but a constant sense of its centre sticking there, meaning it never really moves on from its central hook. Meanwhile, “Ombak, Ombak” kicks off with its riffs out the gate, and is able to shift through a whole narrative of melody and feel by letting the bass and rest of the band fill that sound out.
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