[QUEEN AYE] At this point, comparing St. Vincent to anyone else isnât just besides the pointâitâs downright unfair. Over the course of four increasingly weird and wonderful solo albums, Annie Clark has graduated from Sufjan Stevensâ touring guitarist to bona fide A-lister, making records with David Byrne and debuting songs at Diane von Furstenberg fashion shows. Her new self-titled record is more a refinement than a wholesale reinventionâClark has trimmed all the fat off these lean, funky, primal jams, to the point where nothing lasts more than four and a half minutes and most of the quotable lyrics (âOh what an ordinary day/ take out the garbage, masturbateâ she sings on âBirth in Reverseâ) are opening salvos. All traces of twee (remember when debut album Marry Me was named after an Arrested Development joke?) have completely vanished hereâthough thereâs nothing quite as heavy as her 2012 Record Store Day single âKrokodil.â Many of these songs are engulfed by blasts of feedback, twitchy six-string solos and layers of molten fuzz. Where earlier material felt like Clark was trying to tie pretty moments with splashes of darkness, St. Vincent finds Clark just being, well, herself. Long live Queen Annie.