St. Vincent
St. Vincent
(Republic)

Self-titling an album, especially when it’s not your debut, is a big statement. What makes this album more “you” than your other albums? It inherently implies that your previous albums were holding something back, or not quite as honest as they could be and that this one, named after yourself, is the most “true” representation of yourself as an artist. This is, of course, a tricky statement to make. If artists are constantly evolving and growing, what makes this version of yourself more “true” than any other?

That being said, St. Vincent, does in fact seem like a culmination of St. Vincent’s previous work, both solo and collaborative. She has never been one for humility, but here Annie Clark feels completely confident and comfortable with herself and her music. She’s not afraid to be bold, but she has matured enough to know it’s not necessary to show off. Every moment of St. Vincent sounds explosive and innovative, but always refined and precise.

The other-worldly grooves and angular prog-rock guitars come together to create an intricate and dynamic background for Clark’s captivating melodies. She sings about faith, love, and modern technology with a childlike curiosity and sage-like wisdom. Whether or not St. Vincent is really the purest representation of St. Vincent as an artist, it’s certainly her most confident and fearless album to date.