St. Vincent

The decision to make your latest album a self-titled one is usually either a “we’re back!” statement from some long-in-the-tooth rockers or an overly earnest attempt to convince the record-buying public that you’re ready to unveil your most mature material yet.

While Manhattan-based St. Vincent (Annie Erin Clark to her mother, who she honours on devotional stunner ‘I Prefer Your Love’) does deliver her most open, unfussy lyrics to date on her fourth LP, it is more a matter-of-fact-thing. So ‘Rattlesnake’ literally deals with the time our heroine was chased by said serpent. There are no major reinventions, no seismic shifts in tone. Simply the feeling that Vincent is on more assured ground than ever before, dealing expertly in the darkness with a light, accessible touch.

In parts, St Vincent actually shares a sonic aesthetic with Kanye West’s Yeezus – shards of processed guitar recall the frosty early days of post-punk, occasionally obnoxious synths make their presence felt in many of the songs, and the bass rumbles so forcefully thatour speakers will crackle and a million audiophiles will weep.

But where Yeezus was self-consciously confrontational, all twitchy paranoia, St Vincent is unencumbered by neuroses. It’s enlivened by grit, distortion and daring. Thrillingly inventive but always serving the song, it’s a record of juxtapositions that somehow dovetail perfectly. The synthetic strings of ‘I Prefer Your Love’ – “...to Jesus”, might we add – elevate an ode Sinéad or Kate would be proud of; the choral backing of ‘Prince Johnny’ dresses that early highlight in sad grandeur. Conversely, we have catchy, Numanesque workouts, tracks based on Stankonia- era horns and opulent chamber pop.

Vincent has often talked about her twin loves of hip hop and Stravinsky and a startling convergence of these two worlds can be found here. At times, the plastic soul of Bowie at the turn of the ‘80s, when he mixed high art with low culture, is summoned. The graphic talk of emptying spleens aligning itself to the record’s most beguiling hook on closer ‘Severed Crossed Fingers’ is yet another example of the record’s mongrel spirit.

St Vincent has recently talked about trying to live “at the intersection of accessible and lunatic.” On this triumphant collection, she sounds right at home.