Self Esteem – A Complicated Woman

Rebecca Lucy Taylor's third album as Self Esteem sharpens what’s always been at the core of her musical identity: the tension between frank vulnerability and pop maximalism. 'I’m whinging in a new way', she deadpans on I Do And I Don't Care – the album’s manifesto in miniature. Its thesis is less a declaration than a reluctant truth: 'Fuck me, is this all there is? / This really is all there is, and that’s the thing you’ve got to get comfy with'. A Complicated Woman's realism is barefaced, funny and often moving.

Sonically, the record shifts into something brasher, more combative – less concerned with polish than pressure. The ensemble vocals are no longer just ornament (as they arguably were on Prioritise Pleasure) but the album’s bellwether: richer and more muscular, as exemplified on If Not Now, It's Soon. Logic, Bitch! shares the signature vocal-and-strings palette but introduces new techniques – woodwind-like synths echoing the hook – culminating in a barmy, brilliant Sue Tompkins outro.

Mother, recalling the sparse, choppy production of Kate Bush’s Experiment IV, captures the fatigue of being emotionally outsourced. Taylor is clear: she’s not your mother. The refusal cuts both ways – against the domestic caregiving expected of women in private, and the unspoken contract of public femininity to be maternal, grateful, giving care; never in receipt of it.

Lies, a duet with firebrand rockstar Nadine Shah, is a barely restrained war cry, perfectly teeing up 69. Its arresting intro, delivered by Meatball, is a deadpan whinge about mutual fellatio that plays like political Scissor Sisters – but it’s unmistakably Self Esteem. It utterly resists the sexual expectations placed on the compliance of women, flipping them into a full-throated assertion of agency: 'If you beg, I will peg'. The outro explodes into a dancefloor catharsis, 90s house vocals riding basslines that crackle and threaten to melt through the floor. These full-pop moments are drip-fed with precision – Cheers To Me being the only other properly uptempo cut, like Carly Rae Jepsen with bite.

The album’s clearest statement arrives on In Plain Sight, as Moonchild Sanelly’s devastating verse on identity and exploitation ends in a scream: 'What the fuck you want from me? / I’m saving you, you’re killing me'. As the choir swells and afrobeat drums crest, Taylor and producer Johan Hugo find catharsis in conflict. On Mother, Taylor states: 'I recommend listening'. We're inclined to agree.

Listen to: Mother, In Plain Sight, Lies, 69