Four years after the release of her previous album -- an eternity in her discography -- made a graceful return to the spotlight with her revealing seventh set, . Mostly a response to the headline-grabbing details of her relationships, as usual, the conceptual journey takes listeners through the dissolution of one union (which ended in divorce) and the slow healing that was aided along by the sparks of another (which generated no small amount of controversy). The bulk of the lyrics are a direct reference to the drama, with taking the high road with poise and class, while leaning into any negative perceptions with a wink and some sass. Those tabloid-fodder moments (like "The Boy Is Mine" and "True Story") add some fuel to the flames; however, makes a concerted effort to maintain focus on personal growth through introspection on tracks like the reflective "I Wish I Hated You" and "Don't Wanna Break Up Again," which humanize her into an everywoman promoting healthy self-care tactics like self-soothing and therapy. For those who had been expecting a full-on, house-influenced raver, an album packed with "Yes, And?" style bops won't be found here. Instead, strikes a balance between the warm, lush R&B tones of and with the lighter, feel-good fare found on . "Yes, And?" is indeed the energetic centerpiece of this album, a blissful dose of dancefloor magic that follows the "Express Yourself"/"Born This Way" lineage of ballroom-inspired empowerment anthems. Though not as buoyant, the shimmering "We Can't Be Friends (Wait for Your Love)" is a -esque slice of neon synths, twinkling production, and throbbing groove, which boosts the bittersweet vulnerability of her lyrics, while the sparkling kiss-off "Bye" keeps the disco revival train chugging along as dances her woes away. Beyond that, sticks close to impeccably produced midtempo songs that highlight her vocal range and the mountain of thoughts she has to get off her chest at such a pivotal stage in her life. It's anything but boring; rather, these tracks hypnotize (the reawakening of "Supernatural"), comfort ("Eternal Sunshine"), and nourish the soul like the titular rays of light ("Imperfect for You"). Closing with the horn-swelled "Ordinary Things," calls on her grandmother Marjorie for some sweet, sage advice about making a relationship last, a touching bit of wisdom to frame the young artist's very adult breakup and the healing, however messy, that followed. After the late-2010s blitz that saw her conquering the charts on an annual basis with output of steadily decreasing quality, the years spent re-centering and growing up were clearly fruitful, resulting in one of her strongest, most cohesive efforts to date. is in peak form, a magical maturation that is elevated, resilient, and confidently restrained. ~ Neil Z. Yeung