Shania Twain – Queen of Me: Review

Blending luscious pop songs and whimsically balanced Country songs, Shania Twain continues to excel in reeling the listener into a world full of musical wonder. Taking a chance with producers containing rich backgrounds in pop, reggae-fusion, and rock – like when Josh Homme assimilated his rock roots with Country producing Nikki Lanes’ last LP – they find ways to bring distinct styles, elevating Twain’s strengths. When you hear a pop producer like Mark Joseph take a crack at Country with a song like “Last Day of Summer,” you hear his captivatingly smooth guitar playing, adding dimensions to the slower tempo track. It builds depth, allowing Queen Of Me to come and go like this swift, replayable, confidence-building experience. It’s an inoffensive Country-Pop album with a lot of replayability. It gets boasted by Shania’s rich energy, which makes even the most straightforward tracks a delightful listen.

Queen of Me shows its strengths imminently; Shania Twain opens the album with a phenomenal sequence of Country-Pop/Dance-Pop hits – from “Giddy Up!” to “Best Friend,” Twain is glowing. “Giddy Up!” is this fantastic country dance tune that gets those feet moving with glee, reminding us of her potency in making incredible hybrids. It’s only after that she begins to take shape and let the writing take the form of introspection and make the simple repeatable. “Giddy Up!” gets us up, but it’s what comes after that keeps us flowing within Twain’s gravitational pull. Her voice brings this touch of rejuvenation where the glee in her singing captivates you further. It’s a bit typical with its thematic approach, taking simple routes to get her emotions out with confidence and passion. That passion hits its peak on the beautifully rich “Not Just A Girl.” Like “Queen of Me,” the eponymous track, she exhumes this lioness confidence-like ferocity, making one react like Orville Peck when Shania Twain sang the first lines of their collaboration “Legends Never Die” – in the music video.

Queen of Me isn’t all perfect, though; we get a corny push-off song in “Pretty Liar” and a simple country-pop production in “Got It Good.” The latter does contain a lovely crescendo that keeps you engaged, but it doesn’t have the depth thickness of “Number One” and “Waking Up Dreaming,” nor does it have the kind of character the guitars bring on the country-focused “Inhale/Exhale AIR” and “Last Day of Summer.” Both tracks could have gotten shaved off and made the album a smoother listen, especially “Pretty Liar,” which comes by jarringly. But what Twain’s producers deliver is distinguishing character in the sound. The eponymous track blends synths into this remarkably captivating flex where she exhumes confidence through different scenarios. Additionally, “Waking Up Dreaming” is a perfect example of evolution in a genre; it’s part Country-Pop, part Dance-Pop, delivering these gorgeous electric guitar and synth bass notes that make Twain’s vocals triumphant.

Some of the songs on Queen of Me are a tad simple thematically, and it doesn’t tread new waters, but it does have emotional brevity to keep you replaying these songs more frequently. Unlike the Ava Max album, we don’t get boring, typical melodies or overly ambitious choruses aiming too hard to be catchy. Though “Pretty Liar” isn’t the most astute track, taking jabs at liars. It also includes a corny chorus, albeit catchy, and it goes, “Cause your pants are on fire (your pants are on fire)/You’re such a fucking liar (such a fucking liar)/(Liar) Another level higher, your pants are on fire.” She’s trying to have fun with the idiom but ultimately falls short of being something jovial and tongue-in-cheek. However, her lively energy in the song makes many of these songs great. The track “Best Friend” focuses on the relationship between best friends, and though it’s simple, her joyful energy makes it a pure delight to have repeating without hesitation.

Queen of Me is great, for lack of a better term. Shania Twain is back after five years, still in peak form, giving us wonderfully energetic performances and some overall fun songs. Though we get some simple ones, Twain keeps you reeled in because of that energy, her natural flow, and the lovely choruses that will have you singing along readily. It did so with me. But sometimes, you just need a little serotonin-laced music to keep the vibes strong.

Rating: 8 out of 10.

Margo Price – Strays: Review

Continuing to expand on elements of folk and rock, Margo Price brings a different coating to her sound on Strays, her newest album. More atmospheric and streamlined, its country core becomes more potent, opening up a new stage for her vocals to explore new foundations. I was surprised by my initial enjoyment, gravitating closer to the distinct vocal textures supplemented by its consistent production. However, that surprise waned when I saw the production credits, and it all made sense. Produced by Johnathan Wilson, whose production you’ve heard effervescently on Father John Misty’s albums and last year’s Big Time by Angel Olsen, my favorite of 2022, the album switches sonic context, choosing a lane without overstepping with some of the atmospheric coatings. Unlike Big Time, Margo Price doesn’t always have a level of nuance in her writing and performances, sometimes skewing the pacing or having a proper balance between production and vocals; however, a good amount of tracks standout, leaving some of these issues as bumps on the road.

Opening with a triumphantly radiant and psychedelic country-rock song, “Been to the Mountains,” it drives forth sensibilities Margo Price wants to imbue with the themes on both sides of the aisle. In the liner notes written for the album, “This was one of the very first songs that flowed out the next day after we came down from our mushroom trip. I just really wanted to incorporate poetry. I wanted it to be really psychedelic, and I wanted this album to be able to serve as a record that people could put on if they were going to maybe dabble in psychedelics.” The sounds become more potent and the lyrics more poignant as the wheels continue to turn and the music starts to become whole. Unfortunately, these psychedelic tendencies can sometimes modestly overreach parameters to steal the spotlight from Price’s vocals. She has a command of it, but the mixing can slightly dilute sonic components, letting the instrumentations have control while you get lost amidst the captivating electric and string sections.

Unlike “Been to the Mountains,” the times the instrumentation levels are higher are heard in “Change of Heart” and “Hell In The Heartland,” where the guitar strings, synths, and effect guitars overcome varying aspects of the song. It’s similarly the case with “Light Me Up;” however, a key difference is that “Light Me Up” focuses on its vibe, exponentially increasing particular layers like a roller coaster. Building from an opening acoustic set, it picks up steam after the first verse, especially Price’s vocals. It doesn’t let Mike Campbell’s slick guitar playing deviate, instead synchronizing beautifully through the different sonic complexions. Though I’m not saying her vocals are inaudible, levels don’t sound balanced, and some words aren’t as clear, turning your attention back to the instrumentations. After a first listen-through, you start to pick up the pieces and hear the poeticism controlling Price’s fingers as she writes both lyrics and music. It’s stylistically consistent and pertinent to Margo Price’s direction with Strays, sometimes mellowing out from the rock-driven aesthetic to something more folkish, like the lovely “County Road.” 

Like many tracks on the album, Price gets reflective no matter the perspective – whether personal or interconnected, the uniquely wild stories get boasted by great songwriting. Despite this, like “Hell In The Heartland,” not everything translates well; some have pacing that tends to leave you lost in the winds with certain tracks, like “Lydia” and “Light Me Up.” Though the pacing is an issue, it isn’t that bothersome as the music ends up being rewarding when you understand the gravitas of the themes getting presented – a wandering mind looking to comprehend their surroundings as the music’s melancholy and rockabilly finds the proper equilibrium for clarity. That message comes across as robust, and the notions brought about in the album write-up get the shine. It gets subdued in its psychedelic tones, leaving a lot to pedal effects, Wurlitzer electric piano, and synths. There’s some nuance, though elevated by her vocal performances; the split comes with those notions from the album/liner notes, which focuses on the influence Psilocybin had on her mental direction, allowing us to see this palliative hybrid between the low and high octanes in the instrumentations.

Strays was a good listen, despite its issues. It expresses elements beyond the country aesthetic Margo Price has molded herself with, opening new avenues to play with the genre and deliver these fantastical atmospheric pieces. They take us away from her slightly more traditionalist nature of previous albums, producing something pensive and radiant. I didn’t necessarily love it all, but there were enough tracks to return, especially with some the moxie expressed in the vocals and production.

Rating: 7 out of 10.

Nikki Lane – Denim & Diamonds: Review

As it is with many, when the subject of Country music gets brought up, we can immediately become dismissive since its gen-pop style has us express slight disdain from the more honky-tonk country akin to early Kenny Chesney. But, when you remind yourself that ignorance isn’t bliss, it extends to music as a whole. Country’s extensive history, and nature, have given us fantastic stories with whimsical subtexts, stylistic ingenuity bridging blues and roots music, and a plethora of incredible artists not named Dolly Parton or Kenny Rogers, or gen-pop hoe-down tonk. Nikki Lane is another one you can add to that list, especially now, with the dynamic Denim & Diamonds. Her writing has had a resounding presence, getting elevated by keying into characteristics of the Roots Rock and Outlaw Country genres. In her own way, Lane is an outlaw in Country, as she stays true to herself and makes her music that kind you can actually rock out to feverishly without overbearing notes.

See, there is something about Country music that gives me some momentary bliss from the overly glitzy and produced instrumentals that start to tire you out because you can’t always be in synthesized trance. The genre has its own within its mass ecosphere, but the nuanced, melodic styles of the past have kept my inner, old soul afloat. Some great, some mediocre, and some bad, digging further into this world has given my ears new dimensions. Nikki Lane is that but with rugged rockadelic sounds that will have your eyes reflecting those diamonds in the rough. With Denim & Diamonds, we get music with clever songwriting that keeps you on your toes, buoyed by wildly creative and fun harmonies and melodies that some weaker instrumentations become ingrained into the final product. But there are a few times where it might be more difficult as the well-intentioned fail to capitalize on better deliveries. “Try Harder” fails to have as significant an impact as the opening “First High.” “Try Harder” is monotonous instrumentally like “Faded,” lacking a spark until the end when we get a wicked guitar semi-solo; fortunately, the album sparks brightly.

“First High” makes a distinguished impact, like the many tracks on Denim & Diamonds. Nikki Lane begins with a reflection on her roots, particularly the first time she fell in love with rock-n-roll and played her first note; however, we’ve heard her grow. Her first album was more rock, and the follow-ups brought in more country, and this one finds perfect synergy between the two. So when “First High” shifts from the melancholic strings (resonant with blues) into this more audaciously deep rock layers, which incorporates pedals, transfixing you into her musical world. Produced by Josh Homme, founder of Queens of the Stone Age, the two create an elegant hybrid that tiptoes around centralized genres expressing her unique identity. We hear it contextually within the production, further building the instrumentations with nuance, especially within the string sections; some of its rhythmic patterns, subtle or unsubtle riffs, or solos beneath a rich orchestration. 

“Good Enough” evokes an old Country soul, incorporating the fiddle as a contrast to its plucky guitar, all underneath the atmospheric coating that oozes the feeling one can describe as home is where the heart is,” vaguely. It’s grounded in reality as it never gets the urge to overdevelop, especially in the strings arrangements. Nikki Lane is tender, focusing on lessons learned through a relationship, which elevated her mental help finding solace in understanding she’s good enough.  “Black Widow” contrasts the style of “Good Enough,” as we hear Lane expressing her true badass self in a thrift store leather jacket and jeans over rustic and anthem-like instrumentations driving through the lyrical connotation given to us in “First High.” It’s a third-person extension of “Born Tough,” a potent country rock anthem that delivers with oomph and a sense of empowerment that gets boasted by its colorful instrumentations. We hear both sides of her–the personable like “Pass It Down” and the more impactfully driven bravado of the others mentioned.

Denim & Diamonds is an amalgamation of Nikki Lane’s musical personality. She gives us temperate Americana and Blues/Roots music that reflects her more personal (diamond) side; the denim is that rough-trade, pick-up-your-bootstraps Country, finding the perfect synergy, despite the ups and downs. Sometimes she finds ways to blend the two into a beautiful blend that tames the senses, especially as you get the chance to feel and hear remarkable storytelling through different contextual moods. You get this naturalistic feeling in most instrumentations–more importantly, in her melodies and songwriting as she finds unique avenues to express the platitude of layers within. Lane inflects sheer individualist bravado, letting herself feel one with the elevated country undertones as it blends with other styles and, at times, becomes the central force driving you home.

Rating: 8.5 out of 10.

Angel Olsen – Big Time: Review

After reinventing herself with different aspects of pop–All Mirrors–and past stark and flaky atmospheres in folk and rock, Angel Olsen continues to shape her art, making music resonant with her identity on her new album, Big Time. In an interview with Pitchfork for the album, Angel Olsen said, “I have learned to let go of the labels and embrace what I’m feeling in the moment. And I ended up making a country record, or something like a country record.” Big Time is emotionally potent and sonically harmonious, bringing new dimensions to her artistry. It skews from modern country conventions, rooting itself in a more traditional country, giving her vocal performance depth, reeling you with captivating emotional performances and a sense of whimsy.

Big Time is a powerful emotional experience. Since the last time Angel Olsen spoke to us, she has gone through personal change–from coming out to the loss of her mother–Olsen brings a heavy platter of thoughts that expands on her story. In doing so, Olsen subdues the glitz of overly produced country music, opting for an extraordinary approach that elevates the emotional gravitas. It grips you from the first song, “All The Good Times;” the drums reel you in with melancholic bravado from Olsen, producing a feel for the direction of Big Time. The album is reminiscent of a traditional style from the 50s/60s/70s era, taking unique paths to actualize them to life. The creativity within the construction of the songs brings elements that enforce its stagey presence. The engineering is crisp, creating a foundation in a smooth crescendo where each section becomes audibly potent in creation, from the brass and horn sections to the percussion and strings.

Adjacently, Angel Olsen beautifully delivers fantastical and starry country ballads creating a subtle balance based on context. One moment she’s reflecting on moments before the loss of a loved one in “This Is How It Works,” another she’s embracing the joy of love from her significant other in “All the Flowers.” She ranges in tone, creating a more somber ballad with the latter and letting the vocals carry the slightly lowly production, unlike the former, where the strength comes on both ends vibrantly. Angel Olsen notes her sensibilities effervescently, aiming at encapsulating conflicting emotions with ease. It’s an album that feels true to itself, never toeing a line of obscurity. She delivers potent and poignant material, increasing the length of our emotional response from listening to the album, and it wouldn’t be right of me if I didn’t say Big Time brings tears, whether metaphorical or literal.

The eponymous track, “Big Time,” offers a flurry of distinguishingly haunting but starry string orchestration, bringing this sense of accepting identity. It’s a sonic consistency that is eloquently heard through some softer songs, like “Dream Thing” and “Go Home.” Angel Olsen brings over arching dualities that offer connectivity between artist and listener as her words hit closer to the heart. Olsen sings about identity, love, mistakes, and loneliness, bringing that sense of connectivity through memories and allowing time to act as a concept that prolongs our actions and inactions. She has a way of getting your hips swaying slowly, bringing the spirit of an old country-blues bar local performance while reflecting these thematic complexities effectively. It’s something she reflects eloquently through her accompanying short film; it doesn’t lose focus, weaving a story about identity and the fear of taking major leaps reflective of it. It tells the story of an LGBTQI+ couple, one of whom hasn’t come out to their parents, especially when they are ill–eventually, they pass, creating friction from emotions and using time as a means to escape and reflect.

That’s where Angel Olsen hits her stride. She grabs her strengths and works to endure them longer when evolving. It isn’t Olsen’s first foray into country, weaving elements of Alt-Country/Folk into the aesthetic of 2012’s Burn Your Fire For No Witness. However, the difference lies in how components of the genre get used within the production. Its percussion-string-heavy style doesn’t speak hoedown like “High & Wind” off Burn Your Fire For No Witness; it’s instead centered on traditionalism, creating room for the vocals to blossom and radiate with ethereal melodies. It’s reminiscent of the early tempos of Linda Ronstadt, Patsy Cline, and others of that era–think “Long, Long Time” by Ronstadt or “Crazy” by Cline. But Angel Olsen can establish her identity depending on the song’s context as she plays to the depth of her heart. It’s resonant with the eponymous short film, which brings to light the narrative arc. It captures the essence of the style, elevating it to new heights, and delivering Olsen’s best album to date.

Big Time is both transformative and emotionally gripping. It is rare for me to love a country album in its entirety, and this is one of those rare occasions. From its start to end, I was grasping tears while listening to Angel Olsen deliver whimsical melodies. Olsen continuously breaks down walls of vulnerability, specifically musically, but now it’s more potent. Similar to many, I’m here for it. There are no skips in this emotional journey we take with Angel Olsen, and I hope you take that journey too.

Rating: 10 out of 10.

Lana Del Rey – Blue Banisters: Review

Lana Del Rey is an artist that barely wets the whistle after the traction of excellent singles that lead into any new release. Very few times did it translate, and when it did with Chemtrails Over The Country Club, the slight excitement boiled over me as Lana seemed to have found a better footing since Norman F*cking Rockwell. Unfortunately, the shrill melancholy and emotional depth that empowered Chemtrails have become mostly absent on her follow-up, Blue Banisters. The few singles that preceded the album left a tender and impactful impression. Though Blue Banisters sometimes fails to hit the mark, it left me feeling hollow, as if Lana kept relying on constructive consistency throughout the recording instead of digging deeper into her core. And it took me away from feeling invigorated as Lana meanders around, trying to reflect topical ideas into the mix.

Lana Del Rey can hook-line-and-sinker you with her track ones; however, it does not mirror in Blue Banisters. Opening with “Text Book,” Lana does not remedy the parallels with care, giving off faux-pa broadness as she sings about dating in an era with movements/protests — name dropping Black Lives Matter as a distinction to separate herself from the pack, albeit coming from and leaning around old money. Though she comes about it with a clear understanding, there is little substance — it is trying to make parallels between ideas like opposites attract, modern issues, and allusions to the past to poor effect. It leaves you wondering why she wasn’t able to make it any more nuanced (in the songwriting), considering she is a great writer. The latter becomes a proponent for later songs as Lana tackles various angles of a relationship.

Ironically, these kinds of songs are typically some that Lana excels in, creating these fantastical paintings with her words — it is absent here. She weaves these songs that don’t congregate in a single file line, with an occasional tick walking off the beaten path. It derives from lacking any depth or creativity with the performances, and when it becomes experimental, it begins to lose sight of its strengths — the plucky guitars and twinkly piano keys, with subtle percussion beats underlining the rhythmic direction. There isn’t a moment where Lana catches me by surprise with what she incorporates into her vocal performances. When I hit play on Chemtrails Over The Country Club, it immediately transfixed into a different realm with her sultry and raspy voice on “White Dress.” A mirroring moment comes on “Dealer.” Unfortunately, it doesn’t hit like “White Dress,” leaving you feeling like you can take it off, and it would make it a better album.

“Dealer” is unlike most of the production on Blue Banisters. It has a more bombastic percussion and aggressive strings that fail to hit the mark. Lana, and featured artist Mile Kane, deliver a song that has a wrought perspective of what seems to be an emotionally abusive relationship — or that is what came about it as Miles Kane manipulates his emotions against Lana, going on what may be a binder to escape his woes. He goes about telling her that she’d be better off avoiding these other points of contact as the importance is slim. But the song doesn’t falter because of incompetency. “Dealer” has a great idea behind it with some great production and solid vocal performances, but you’re bewildered why it isn’t better. Fortunately, there are a few songs that brought out Lana’s best complexions.

“Thunder” does what “Dealer” tries, but better as it stems from a deeper center, vocally and lyrically. The latter forms from a trite perspective that doesn’t buoy its themes well, while the former elevates emotions and speaks about a relative subject to many in a relationship. It isn’t to say that “Dealer” doesn’t; however, its broad and direct nature leaves one feeling tired halfway through. On “Thunder,” Lana hones in on her vocals, echoing a soft-spoken demeanor — usually seen in reflexive-perspective songs. In the song, she sings about how her significant other’s two-faced persona has her gripping close to the reality that this person isn’t 100% in, despite the copious talk of rolling thunder or flexing bravado. It is one of two songs that captivated with a first listen — the other is “Arcadia.”

“Arcadia” throws the first punch when Lana takes her first breath, and the first verse begins. She weaves together these intricate analogies to her body, her personality, and all that makes her with idyllic locations being representations. Arcadia, California, is what she sings of — it is a place for her to retreat to and reflect on her career when the stress is high. It has some niche relativity as someone who hasn’t been to those locations will only understand if they compose with their state. However, the production and tender switches in her vocal deliveries keep it flowing with eloquence, especially coming after the powerful ballad “Blue Banisters.”

Blue Banisters left me feeling underwhelmed compared to Chemtrails Over The Country Club, as Lana seems to focus tightly on a single note. The music has its fair share of depth, but there are a few that carry weight. If you’re a fan of Lana, there is enough for you to like; however, Blue Banisters is nothing more than a slight retread of Chemtrails.

Rating: 5 out of 10.

Yebba – Dawn: Review

It may not be apparent, but Yebba has been around — quietly delivering elegant performances through different genres of music; however, many know her as the female vocalist on “Same Drugs” by Chance the Rapper — when he performed on Saturday Night Live. I’ve gotten to know her work by burrowing through a landscape decorated with a history of appearing in songs in Hip-Hop, Pop, Funk, Soul, Folk, Rock, and more. Having worked with artists like A Tribe Called Quest, Mark Ronson, and Mumford & Sons since 2016 has given her a clearer slate to draw on as she finds her sound and individualizes herself from contemporaries. Her debut, Dawn, speaks to that as Yebba delivers sweet flavorings to the songs, which range in style — most of which are unique to Yebba, except for few moments that get lost when going grandiose.

Unlike some or many, you find yourself coming into Dawn blind. But like many, I’ve been aware of Yebba’s guest appearances and features; however, what comes to light in Dawn is sometimes unlike what we’ve heard before. Whether Yebba is delivering softened background vocals that compliment the lead artist or as a vibrant lead on Mark Ronson’s Late Night Feelings, Yebba finds ways to distinguish herself from others — further asking the light to center on her presence in front of, and behind, the microphone. She makes it apparent on Dawn as she paints her slate with the influence of sounds from the vast array of genres of her past; she hits the nail more often than not.

Yebba heightens her emotions to give each song brevity — this allows the music to stay direct for better playback. She lets the influence guide the pen, letting loose unique themes like emotional growth. In 2017, a week after Yebba released her first single, her mother, unfortunately, passed after struggling with depression. It’s been a driving force behind Yebba’s fearlessness in her vocal performances, but it has been a hindrance as it seems like she is always performing in front of a silhouette of her mother. 

Yebba opens Dawn with a plea to herself — how many more years? She is continuously distraught that she hasn’t been able to keep happy memories without leading toward tears of sadness that constantly blinds her future. It could come from some hesitancy that guides any hiccups from grasping your emotions tightly, which shows on each song. But on “How Many More Years,” it is something else. Listening to Yebba’s soft and broken vocals gives us a sense that she grasps her emotions firmly, delivering them in doses to keep us invested. She does so without draining us to our core, though “October Sky” came close. 

As one of the most beautifully captivating and tragic songs on Dawn, “October Sky” takes us through a recurring and happy memory she has of her mom. As it is with most of the album, Yebba adopts lingering feelings and notions about her heartbreak, despite knowing this is the start of something great. She embraces her moment and finds ways to show us her vulnerable side.

Yebba lets her voice guide us through her emotions, providing a deep meaning beneath, a sometimes thin, surface. Usually, it starts to be the case on Dawn, as some of the production weaves thin simplicities within the percussion. It initially feels off-putting since Yebba received help from producers like Kaytranada, the Picard Brothers, and Mark Ronson, but the small details make up for it. Despite being known for their electric percussion, it’s one of the weaker components in the album; however, it never gets to a point where it makes the whole production yawn-inducing.

Fortunately, Yebba and her co-producers start world-building on top of the songs, which deliver some glamorous standouts like “Boomerang.” It takes influence from the roots of old-country and folk — breaking apart styles derivative of cowboy-western country dinghies, roots rock, and an effervescently soulful vocal performance, “Boomerang” elevates into it. Similar to “Boomerang,” Yebba brings a similar cadence on “Louie Bag” featuring Smino.

Subtly, “Louie Bag” is like many songs on Dawn, wherein the influence comes from subsections of the musical south, from Hip-Hop to Folk-Country. “Louie Bag” has string and piano key arrangements focusing on Yebba’s verses, while the percussion emboldens a simple hip-hop beat, allowing for a smooth blend in this ode to their youths in their respective cities. It creates a smooth unification of the two, as we hear them performing while in their A-Game. In the song, They burn bridges that have been vandalized on each journey to succeed in their work. Smino’s verse contains more gravitas, as opposed to A$AP Rocky — the other featured rapper. His presence on “Far Away” is from someone standing afar from the living room window.

Fortunately, through captivating performances, Yebba is placing us in her shoes. Most times, you’re taken through the wringer as she lays out what passes her subconscious in these times. And intermittently, with songs like “Louie Bag” and “Far Away,” Yebba distinguishes herself in pop, barely straying from the overall construct of the sound. It’s reflective of Yebba’s trajectory as an artist, with Dawn acting as a stepping stone in showing us her true self. She assimilates into these different types of production that I’m wondering what’s in store as she continues to explore and grow as an artist. If you’re into an enjoyably emotional listen, you’ll leave this album wanting more of Yebba soon.

Rating: 7.5 out of 10.