treated as a coming-out party, letting every aspect of her sexuality flood out in a torrent. After such a lacerating album, where does one go? , an album recorded with a new lineup of that's still anchored by and guitarist , goes a long way toward addressing that question. As an album, doesn't feel as urgent as . It's not just that unleashed all her pent-up emotions two years prior: the production is clean, even punchy, emphasizing the big pop hooks that drive so many of the tunes. At times, can recall college rock heroes of the past -- hang heavy over the proceedings, particularly on "12:03," a coiled expression of love angst -- but whenever flirts with the past she suggests a future: she's claiming an unspoken queer tradition that flows through the American underground, one that comes to the surface on this album, for her own felt like an unrestrained howl but on , feels comfortable within her own skin, happy to not have every song on her album be a statement. Consequently, feels considerably lighter than its predecessor: is reveling in her mess, resulting in an album that is lighter, fleeter, hookier, and more fun than its predecessor. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine