If Annie Clark's imposing intergalactic empress posture on her throne of pink geometric perfection wasn’t enough to tip you off to her direction this time around, then the jarring, stop-and-go, ground-to-a-digital-pulp implosion of songs like opener "Rattlesnake" should make it more than painfully clear. On the self-titled fourth album, St. Vincent has retained her affluence to the world of indie and art pop, but it's clear that her confidence has egged her on to more creative and abstract heights. With the guitar work sometimes crushed into a pile of distortion, the synthesizers streaming aimlessly into the stratosphere and general electronics dissonantly driving the listener haywire, this is a pop album bordering on noise music to an extent that might not appeal to all. Yet still, the humanity of Clark's lyricism and touch of personality pervade the sometimes off-putting nature of faux-futuristic glitch music with a poignant touch.
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