Kesha – “. (…)”

That time allowed her to create Rainbow, an autonomous and powerful resurrection filled with messages of healing, forgiveness, female empowerment, and her usual festive, hedonistic persona — but elevated to a more spiritual plane. Its lead single, Praying, which earned her a Grammy nomination for Best Pop Solo Performance, set her on a new path in the music industry that culminates with this album, . (…).

After records whose sound felt diluted and didn’t really succeed (such as High Road or Eat the Acid), Kesha returns with a project in which, although her sound still hasn’t fully exploded, she seems open to exploring her signature styles in new registers — for a new Kesha that she herself needed: a self-sufficient, independent Kesha, CEO of her own label, Kesha Records, tasked with creating what, after this final chapter, will be her third era.

If Praying was the beginning of her second great era, Cathedral., the song that closes her new LP, is its perfect counterpoint. It’s no surprise she performs them together in concert, as they both tell the story of the woman who built an empire on her faith. A ballad that at first feels more serene than its predecessor — until the final, heart-wrenching electronic cry. The same voice that once hoped Dr. Luke was “Somewhere praying / I hope your soul is changing / I hope you find your peace / Falling on your knees,” ends up finding peace within herself: “I’m finally coming home / Life was so lethal / But I’m the saviour, I’m the altar, I’m the Holy Ghost.”

. (…) begins with an almost six-and-a-half-minute track, the first three minutes of which are piano accompanied by an angelic voice. The surprise comes when the transition hits, delivering a clean dance drop with a choir chanting its title, Freedom., and a cheeky lyric about being drunk, in which it’s not entirely clear whether, as she sings, “Maybe this bitch’s off her meds.”

The album’s first quartet of songs lives up to the title of its final track, Delusional. The second song and lead single, Joyride., alternates unexpected turns between its driving harmonica, polka samples, gritty talk-singing, and hyperpop arrangements — not for the faint-eared. On Yippee-Ki-Kay., she presents a country-pop hybrid with immersive electronic moments comparable to singles from her recent work, like Raising Hell or Woman, but without quite as much power.

Next comes Red Flag., the most radio-friendly and least baroque song on the album, where her rough vocals shine over an accelerated keyboard joined by percussion, until her voice emerges carrying an anthem. Kesha confronts her red flags to make up with them through her rosy-tinted protest.

Boy Crazy. is a celebration of men from a queer perspective, with fantastic hyperpop production featuring A.G. Cook. It reinforces the idea that Kesha’s marketing team pursued a strategy similar to Charli xcx’s — finding a simple, campy, cheeky symbol like brat — and aiming for Kesha’s own pink periodt, which, like the Essex singer’s, appears across all her discography art.

The four tracks that complete the album’s finale — the Daft Punk-style Love Forever; the disco-funk Too Hard.; the restrained electro-pop Glow.; and The One., which feels like a more ‘Kesha’ version of This Is Me from The Greatest Showman — explore her relationship with men and the masculine, in an album marked by an ex-partner she both ridicules and exalts in equal measure. 

Yet, as she sings on the final track, Cathedral., it’s time to be “born again with every scar,” and let’s hope that the start of her career as an independent artist and this final period are enough for her to rise once more, following a destiny that “it’s all written into the stars.”