returns with , her third solo LP and first for British indie . Since disbanding her former group the in 2011, has worked in an array of mediums, from the edgy, introspective folk-pop of 2012's solo debut to the nervy, '50s-tinged punk of follow-up . On her third outing, the simmering stew of influences that has followed her around ( , , etc.) whirl together in a blur of color as she finally goes off the deep end in the best of ways. With an almost manic energy and a rush of invention, she dials up the melodies, hooks, and rhythms, and shines her weird creativity full-bore on a set of songs that ripple with excitement, danger, and fun. Backed by , whose sax player is also producer here, finally embraces and fully celebrates her perpetual outsider status, turning it into something desirable and bold. In a snarl falling somewhere between , and , she delivers lines like "Makin' the rounds in my five dollar dress, I can't go home though I'm not homeless, I'm just another savage in the wilderness, and if you can't calm down you can listen to this" from the marvelously spiky opener "Restless Year." Donning a dress, lipstick, and a baseball cap on the album's cover, she plays on gender fluidity, anxiety, sin, and any manner of self-expression that seems to dart through her brain, turning songs like "Hark! To the Music" and "Body Was Made" into rallying cries for misfits of any ilk. Musically, the album's most common thread is classic doo wop, with plenty of sock hop sax solos and at least half of the songs sporting some sort of "ooh la," "sha-lang," or "shoo-doo" to offset 's brazen barks. The whole album feels like a journey through her emotional chaos, and fittingly, she provides a hand-drawn map of Chicago in the liner notes assigning a Windy City street address to each song, like a cathartic field guide to their place of origin. If you're willing to get on board with and the beautifully messy world that she celebrates here, is a ride worth taking. ~ Timothy Monger