Having started at 15, Cherry Glazerr frontwoman and anchor Clementine Creevy—now 26—has tried on a few (always heavy) styles as she has grown and evolved. Gone is the delicious howl of 2017's "I Told You I'd Be with the Guys" and the nasty shoegaze of 2019's "Wasted Nun." For her fourth album, with producer Yves Rothman (Blondshell, Yves Tumor) applying his gritty take on slickness, Creevy has made a twisted dance record.  But this is not the shiny disco of Dua Lipa; it's the fuel of a dark, slightly dangerous underground club at 3 a.m. At first it's a little unnerving to hear Creevy's breathy upper register mixed against full-on disco chic—funk rhythms and winking synths—on songs like "Bad Habit" or the goth-ish dance-floor elixir that is "Wild Times," grooving Depeche Mode-style synth. But it works. Creevy has called "Soft Like a Flower" her "Evanescence moment," and she really lets loose, both in what she says and how she says it. "Gave up my tricks/ I'll be your dog…" she wails along with her guitar. "My head out your car/ Cuz I like you killing me. "It's a real 'losing your fucking shit' kind of vibe … Completely exposed," she has said. "It's also a little bit about loving the anguish and toxicity that comes with being ruined by another person. Letting go and submitting to them but then catching yourself becoming too much like them." Indeed, the album explores relationship struggles from all sides, turning over rocks and looking under blankets and, most of all, probing herself. "I'm so embarrassed all the time/ Wish I could meet you with my eyes/ Ah-ha, wish I was ready for you," Creevy sings on "Ready For You," her voice like a swath of gauze being stretched to the breaking point, until the song explodes open, bottom heavy and thumping, working itself up into a tumultuous storm. The rhythm—bass by Sami Perez, drums by Tabor Allen—is so important here: brewing a dark, low cloud for "Addicted to Your Love" and a monstrous, big foot stomp on "I Don't Want You Anymore." "Touched You With My Chaos" is absolute grunge thunder, complete with drama-pitch strings. And "Sugar" sounds like a youthful descendent of Nirvana's "Something in the Way," Creevy wallowing in her … dependence? Co-dependence? Addiction? Worship? "You make me wanna crawl away/ I'm so ashamed I'm not this way … Break my heart, I don't care/ Fortune told me that no one's there/ I'm buried deep in your mess." © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz

Coming on the heels of the massive success of the Power Station, Riptide packages Robert Palmer's voice and suave personality into a commercial series of mostly rocking songs that seem custom-tailored to be chart hits. The Power Station connection threatens to overpower Palmer's usually more eclectic musical interest, but with that band's producer/member Bernard Edwards handling production duties and members Andy Taylor and Tony Thompson contributing as well, stylistic similarities were inevitable. "Flesh Wound," though, sounds like a retread of "Some Like It Hot," with its squelching staccato guitars and tribal drums mimicking the hit single. "Hyperactive" adds a bit of a pop veneer to the formula, with its bright keyboards dating the song to the Miami Vice era; that's not to say it doesn't hold nostalgic charm. "Addicted to Love" shares some of the same punch, somewhat slowing down the Power Station's bombast into slinkier, blues territory, while maintaining a heavy rock crunch. The song skyrocketed to the top of the U.S. charts and sold more than a million copies as a single worldwide. A music video for the song, featuring sexy models gyrating blankly, no doubt helped sales and launched a new phase of Palmer's career, where music videos would nearly overshadow his songwriting. Equally catchy and almost as successful is the brilliant take on the Jimmy Jam/Terry Lewis song "I Didn't Mean to Turn You On." It is perhaps Riptide's most daring track, with its fractured jittery notes, funky basslines, and pounding drums matching Palmer's bothered, sweaty vocals to create a yearning song that drips with passion. Also not to be missed is Earl King's "Trick Bag," which Palmer translates into a fun Clues-style minimalist modern blues song. Even if Riptide uses the Power Station as a blueprint, its only true faults reside in the cheesy album-opening and album-closing refrains of "Riptide," which seemingly satisfy Palmer's tropical proclivities. They might be relaxing and humorous as elevator music, but they are sharply at odds with the tone of the album and Palmer's usually impeccable musical taste. Cheesy opening and ending aside, Riptide has some truly addictive moments and it set him firmly on course, for better or worse, for the even harder-rocking Heavy Nova. © Tim DiGravina /TiVo

Coming on the heels of the massive success of the Power Station, Riptide packages Robert Palmer's voice and suave personality into a commercial series of mostly rocking songs that seem custom-tailored to be chart hits. The Power Station connection threatens to overpower Palmer's usually more eclectic musical interest, but with that band's producer/member Bernard Edwards handling production duties and members Andy Taylor and Tony Thompson contributing as well, stylistic similarities were inevitable. "Flesh Wound," though, sounds like a retread of "Some Like It Hot," with its squelching staccato guitars and tribal drums mimicking the hit single. "Hyperactive" adds a bit of a pop veneer to the formula, with its bright keyboards dating the song to the Miami Vice era; that's not to say it doesn't hold nostalgic charm. "Addicted to Love" shares some of the same punch, somewhat slowing down the Power Station's bombast into slinkier, blues territory, while maintaining a heavy rock crunch. The song skyrocketed to the top of the U.S. charts and sold more than a million copies as a single worldwide. A music video for the song, featuring sexy models gyrating blankly, no doubt helped sales and launched a new phase of Palmer's career, where music videos would nearly overshadow his songwriting. Equally catchy and almost as successful is the brilliant take on the Jimmy Jam/Terry Lewis song "I Didn't Mean to Turn You On." It is perhaps Riptide's most daring track, with its fractured jittery notes, funky basslines, and pounding drums matching Palmer's bothered, sweaty vocals to create a yearning song that drips with passion. Also not to be missed is Earl King's "Trick Bag," which Palmer translates into a fun Clues-style minimalist modern blues song. Even if Riptide uses the Power Station as a blueprint, its only true faults reside in the cheesy album-opening and album-closing refrains of "Riptide," which seemingly satisfy Palmer's tropical proclivities. They might be relaxing and humorous as elevator music, but they are sharply at odds with the tone of the album and Palmer's usually impeccable musical taste. Cheesy opening and ending aside, Riptide has some truly addictive moments and it set him firmly on course, for better or worse, for the even harder-rocking Heavy Nova. © Tim DiGravina /TiVo

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A Bone Thugs-n-Harmony with more polish to their harmonies and fewer rough edges image-wise, Jagged Edge performs well on their debut album, getting into the groove on singles "The Way That You Talk" and "Gotta Be," each of which is impeccably produced by Jermaine Dupri. There are a few songs that don't work at all on A Jagged Era, but for the most part, the quartet sounds interesting.© John Bush /TiVo

Long after its popularity had declined, the Gap Band was having an impact on the Afro-American music scene. The end of the 1980s found the funksters being sampled frequently by hip-hoppers, and it was hard to miss their tremendous influence on the extremely popular new jack swing outfit Guy. The Gap Band itself, however, had started to go downhill both commercially and creatively in the mid-'80s. When the Wilson brothers signed with Capitol in 1989, optimists were hoping to see them return to the top, but sadly, much of the old magic was gone. Round Trip isn't terrible, and tunes ranging from the seductive "We Can Make It Alright" to the hard funk of "It's Our Duty" and the single "Addicted to Your Love" are fairly decent. But play this high-tech recording alongside 1979's Gap Band 2 or 1980's Gap Band 3, and it becomes obvious that the Gapsters were long past their prime. While those classics burned and exploded, Round Trip merely simmers.© Alex Henderson /TiVo

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