CD of The Week

When a band or musician releases a self-titled record, there is usually a specific intent behind it. More often than not, fresh talents do this with their debut albums as a mission statement, a formal introduction of themselves to the world. When the self-titled arrives later in a discography, it's often an effort to connect or reflect on a more personal level (M.I.A. has effectively done this twice in a row). The eponymous release can also, if done right, serve as a crystallization of an artist's sound, identity, and legacy. An album length "If you don't know me by now," if you will. With her fierce, fantastic fourth record as St. Vincent, Annie Clark has accomplished exactly that. If not quite her best record (yet), it's easily her most cumulative and cohesive.

The teaser singles hinted at this, each one refreshing listeners on what came before. The spiky, spitfire "Birth in Reverse" mirrors the comparatively skeletal splendor of her 2007 debut Marry Me. "Digital Witness" sports the orchestral schizophrenia of 2009's Actor, sounding like that album's standout track "Marrow" if it was done during Clark's sessions with David Byrne. The patient, pristine "Prince Johnny," meanwhile, could have easily fit in with the myriad of ethereal highlights on 2011's Strange Mercy. With that primer out of the way, St. Vincent proceeds to weave and crash those three distinct facets of her sound together in riveting, rollicking ways.

"Rattlesnake" jolts and jitters like Amnesiac-era Radiohead, all Grand Mal synthesizers and processed beats before Clark's now iconic guitar shredding finally crashes the party after nearly three minutes of peeking through the windows. At the other end of the spectrum, "I Prefer Your Love" all but abandons guitars altogether, coming as close as Clark has ever come to full onKate Bushiness, not to mention reasserting her underrated vocal prowess. Best of all may be the shuffling, shattering "Bring Me Your Loves," where she gives her synths a turn to shred and turns the title into a towering, arena-ready call to action.

Lyrically, St. Vincent might just be the most personal St. Vincent record yet (again befitting the title). She's as sexually cryptic and confrontational as ever, but for all of the theatrics in the performance, it feels like she's finally playing herself, not someone else in her songs. It shouldn't surprise that she fills that role with the same conviction and confidence she always has, if not more so. Ah forget it. It's her best record yet. She'll show it off in all its glory to a sold out Union Transfer this Friday.