is on fire.
On her seventh full-length studio album, Annie Clark, who performs as St. Vincent, unleashes her broad range of art-rock gifts, from the crackling ember of her textured vocals to the raging infernos of swirling, epic orchestration.
St. Vincent canonized her name in the 2010s with twitchy, dense compositions. On the 2021 release, 鈥淒addy鈥檚 Home,鈥� her last album, she embraced a looser, 1970s-infused sleaze funk. 鈥淎ll Born Screaming鈥� continues a trend toward more accessible territory, seamlessly spinning elements of acid-jazz, industrial grind, retro-futurism and heavy distortion into apocalyptic walls of sound.
The St. Vincent persona is a restless shape shifter, and the album art of this iteration 鈥� tailored shirt, pencil skirt, the artist alone and in flames 鈥� is an apt representation. 鈥淎ll Born Screaming鈥� is Clark鈥檚 first self-produced release, and she is the primary songwriter and musician throughout, playing multiple instruments on every track. The album includes excellent and meticulously placed contributions from musicians including Justin Meldal-Johnsen, Rachel Eckroth, Cian Riordan, David Ralicke, , and . But this is Annie Clark鈥檚 show, and, as in the cover image, she is buttoned up and executing a delicate dance between complete control and self-immolation.
The first few tracks set the stage. Opener 鈥淗ell is Near鈥� with an ethereal delivery of the lines, 鈥淓mpty cup and a can full of marigolds / half burned candle a picture pinned on the wall,鈥� before shifting gears into a cool groove and building to a huge, spacy outro. 鈥淩eckless鈥� follows, starting intimate and quickly upping the stakes. She sings, 鈥淪tranger come in my path / I鈥檒l eat you up tear you limb from limb or I鈥檒l fall in love鈥� as the song works toward its explosive crescendo.
鈥淏roken Man鈥� continues to raise the temperature. The song features three drummers, including Dave Grohl, and it opens with bonks and clanks reminiscent of and the provocative lyrics, 鈥渙n the street I鈥檓 a king-size killer / I can make your kingdom come.鈥� Clark鈥檚 vocal command on this song is terrific, starting sultry and steadily gaining strength and intensity as the industrial-rock cacophony builds.
The album is generally heavy, but it offers a campy breather with 鈥淰iolent Times.鈥� Here she channels the classic John Barry theme composition for 鈥淕oldfinger.鈥� The song also a lovely lyrical sketch, with Clark singing 鈥淎shes of Pompeii / lovers discovered in an embrace for all eternity.鈥�
鈥淭he Power鈥檚 Out鈥� starts with a programmed drum break evocative of 鈥檚 apocalyptic classic, 鈥淔ive Years.鈥� The lyrics and waltz construction consciously echo its inspiration, with slice-of-life vignettes as people come to grips with impending catastrophe. 鈥淚t was pouring like a movie," Clark sings. "Every stranger looked like they knew me.鈥� It is an oddball track within this collection, but it stands as a fascinating Rashomon-like alternate perspective on Bowie鈥檚 storytelling.
The album ends with the title track. It starts uncharacteristically upbeat, with a guitar sound falling somewhere between and The Smiths' . It changes gears midway, building to a climactic chant of the title words, 鈥淎ll Born Screaming鈥� over spacey synth, as if Gregorian monks infiltrated a laser show.
It is a fitting end, returning the listener back to the mysterious terror with which we all enter this world.
Jim Pollock, The Associated Press
