Róisín Machine

Róisín Machine is cohesive and spellbinding. Murphy truly is a machine in her consistent creativity, and this is a particularly well-oiled example of her brilliance.

Róisín Machine sees the singer charismatic, confident and in control, and Barratt’s beats accompany that mood perfectly. Accept no imitations, this album has some of the best electronic music you’ll hear all year.

Róisín Murphy aims her tracks at the stars. With Róisín Machine, she’s become one.

On this form she’s Bianca on horseback, a new Moroder drop in ’77, bootlegged Larry Levan DJ sets on cassette, the nocturnal delights of the Studio 54 VIP room, casually leaving her contemporaries trying to negotiate guestlist entry at the nightclub entrance

The overall mood is slinkily, scuzzily surreal. ... It's a deep trip into Murphy's past and future. [Nov 2020, p.33]

Roisin Machine captures the singer at her most triumphant, finally comfortable in her role as an alt-pop icon—there's something casual and more assured about this Roisin Murphy.

Herein lies Róisín Machine’s beauty at its most uncomplicated: every single one of its songs implores you to dance, and in doing so implores you also to forget the human fragility of which you are so incessantly reminded. Vicariously through Róisín Murphy – be she god, machine, person, or something floating between them – we can forget our fragile bodies, losing ourselves in a blissful utopia, even if only for an hour.

This is her most defiantly disco record to date. Where ‘Overpowered’ or ‘Take Her Up To Monto’ might veer off on prog or avant garde jaunts, ‘Róisín Machine’ is lit exclusively by the glitterball.

Roísín Machine is among Murphy's best works, a showcase for one of dance music's most endlessly fascinating figures

Róisín Machine is a sharper, more focused album than 2016’s Take Her Up to Monto; one which reins in some, but not all, of its author’s eccentricities.

There are thoughtful beats and thoughtful words here, complementing each other instead of overpowering one another.