Review Summary: Her most intricate puzzle yet
Madeline Kenney’s discography has always been colored by an ideal blend of melody and mystery. At her best – 2018’s sophomore LP
Perfect Shapes – she explored unpredictable sounds within lush atmospheres, to stunning results that remain the highwater mark of her career to this day. She’s had plenty of solid if not exceptional material since – notably the crystalline reflectiveness of ‘Double-Hearted’ and the seductive dreaminess of ‘Reality Mind’. Nothing has challenged her magnum opus, however, until
Kiss From the Balcony. Kenney’s fifth full-length record is a knotty, often jarring labyrinth of atmospheres that range from barely harmonious to purposely challenging. It feels like her most artistically freeing release to date.
Long time Kenney listeners can imagine a
Perfect Shapes that deliberately chases its most experimental whims – even when it means sacrificing accessibility – and they’ll have a decent idea of what to expect going into
Kiss. On opener ‘Scoop’, we get a steadily driving drum beat mixed with fluttering steel guitar notes that are occasionally swallowed up by tides of flourishing synths. Madeline sings confidently, alternating with bitter whispers: “No one ever likes to see the girls break down, so they keep it to the bathroom floor / To kiss and cry, and cooly walk away.” It sounds self-assured, like she’s making an entrance into a new phase of her career where she won’t be held back by expectations that belie her own pursuit of greatness. ‘I Never’ does nothing to squander the momentum, with verses in which the tension boils over into stern and pointed passages – almost as if she’s holding back from shouting: “Now I have been retrained / Who else will haul in the reins?” As synths rain down in the background like church bells,
Kiss From the Balcony is off to an enigmatic yet intriguing start.
From there, it only gets more confounding – and better. ‘Slap’ initially floats in a state of equilibrium with its pattering of rhythmic drums and wobbly synths, but eventually becomes lost in a maze of momentous drums, synth stabs, swelling keys, and disorienting echoes. If it sounds like it should be terrifying, it’s really quite the opposite. Not only on ‘Slap’, but all throughout
Kiss, Madeline manages to take alienating overtones and make them sound warm and inviting, despite being shrouded in mystery. ‘Cue’ features strings that dance playfully, interlacing with a harp as the finger picking meanders all over the sound spectrum from melodically pleasing to screeching – all while the drums and cymbals crash as if to emphasize unspoken points made by the onslaught of strings. Late-album gem ‘Paycheck’ nearly vibrates with the energy of its percussive undercurrent, as Kenney’s voice is intermittently altered – buzzing with an electronic glaze as she sings “I just want to give you more control.” From front to end,
Kiss is a record that prides itself on its ambitious exploration of new sonic territory, and it opens up new worlds for Madeline in the process.
For as densely layered and unapproachable as
Kiss From the Balcony often seems, it still has moments that will forcefully reach out and envelop you. ‘Semitones’ is a clear highlight that struts and shuffles with its reverb-drenched beat, while a storm of synths, keys, strings, and elaborate studio effects illuminate the backdrop like multi-colored strands of lightning. It all culminates in this sweeping, beautiful, utterly
powerful refrain from Kenney, where she sings with a newfound sense of clarity and purpose: “What’s the harm in trying to lean on your mind? / Trying to make it home…trying to make it right.” ‘Breakdown’ is another instance of finding solid ground in this swirling, imaginative galaxy that Madeline has crafted. Commencing with smooth elegiac guitars underscored by graceful classical piano notes, Kenney’s voice glides effortlessly between instruments as the song builds toward a crescendo of thunderous percussion and gorgeously cascading electric guitar chords. Even the closing track – just by virtue of possessing a relatively understated atmosphere that relies primarily on Kenney’s voice – feels like a more accessible cut, despite being a sullen ballad. Songs like these feel like glimpses into the eye of a brooding storm, where the rest is so roaming and chaotic that it sometimes feels impenetrable.
Kiss From the Balcony is a difficult onion to peel. Its complex instrumental makeup and meandering song structures are akin to someone putting up an emotional wall in order to keep themselves from being vulnerable. That may very well be the case here, and while the songs themselves don’t always resonate in the sense that they’ll remain lodged in your brain for days, there is a sonic depth here that allows you to sink into this thing’s aura without even trying. Typically, avant-garde records like this feel cold and calculated, but
Kiss has this sense of fractured familiarity – like reuniting with an old friend, or a word that dances around on the tip of your tongue while trying to recall it from memory. It’s an album that I always feel just on the verge of truly understanding, until I discover a new wrinkle that makes me want to reassess everything. That’s Madeline Kenney, though – she’s a perpetually underrated songwriter who is both talented and clever enough to craft music that’s worth several evaluations.
Kiss From the Balcony is her most intricate puzzle yet.
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