LP.8

It's a much less linear journey than we would expect from Owens, but it's also a welcome shift, an intriguing pivot from the very human themes of Inner Song. This time around, she invites the listener to wade through the fascinating depths of her imagination. It's hard not to close your eyes and surrender to the figure-eight flow.

Beautifully black. [Jul 2022, p.88]

On LP.8, Owens draws from different, seemingly contradictory mystical energies, creating music that challenges and shocks as much as it soothes.

While it's hard not to succumb to the subtle disappointment inherent in hearing an artist you love make such a sudden shift in sound, beyond that initial disappointment is an album that is the artist’s maturest to date. An album that is, somehow, equal-parts icy and warm; which progresses, despite this contrast, with an ease that is masterful; and which, inevitably, leaves me curious and yearning for LPs 3-7.

LP.8 is certainly roomier than Owens’ previous work. More directed at dedicated dance-heads, more suited to the durgy decrepitude of basement dancefloors, and more abstract in its approach. But LP.8 provides further evidence that Kelly Lee Owens operates in a field entirely of her own.