Review

Kesha's sixth album, . (Period), is a riotous remix of liberation, hedonism and hard-won self‑possession – all delivered with that cheeky, brat‑pop swagger we’ve long associated with her. Released via her very own Kesha Records and unshackled from the Dr Luke era, this is the ultimate “fuck‑you” album – one that bristles with independence and a keen sense of self‑reinvention. The opener, “Freedom.”, is deceptively meditative, beginning with spacious piano and atmospheric vocals before exploding into an 80s‑flavoured house‑funk anthem. It’s a bold statement: Kesha’s reclamation of agency in full swing. And from that moment, the album hurtles like a rabbit down a neon rabbit‑hole. “Joyride.” is chaos in melodic form – accordion‑driven electropop meets hyperpop glitch in an exhilarating swirl. It’s quintessential Kesha: arresting, campy and utterly infectious . “Yippee‑Ki‑Yay.”, featuring T‑Pain, tosses hip‑hop and country‑pop into the blender – all bonfire vibes and petrol‑spitting beats. It’s irreverent fun and feels rooted in her Tennessee roots. Yet amid the sugar rush there are flickers of introspection. “Delusional.” brings a measured pop‑ballad vulnerability; “Love Forever.” and “Glow.” bring shimmering disco gloss and tongue‑in‑cheek nods to consumer culture – “It’s playing at the Target. Oh, and your mum loves the song” . These tracks, while less visceral, add texture and wry commentary. The album isn’t without its misfires: a few tracks over‑polish the wild edges that made Kesha unique. Some critics feel they chase trends – 80s rock stylings, brassy stadium pop – sometimes at the expense of substance . But others argue this patchwork of styles illustrates her versatility: hyperpop, disco, country‑tinged rap, club bangers – . is little more than a playground for her creativity. The closing Cathedral is the heart of the record. Sparse piano, emotive vocals, spiritual undertones reminiscent of “Praying” – it’s the album’s emotional anchor and reminder that beneath all the glitter is a woman who’s endured much and emerged stronger. In true British review fashion: this is less a polished record and more a half‑wound party, a liberating messazzle – if messazzle were a word. It’s untamed, it’s joyous, it’s occasionally bewildering – but it’s unmistakably Kesha. Her voice, both literally and figuratively, is back centre‑stage: a winking riot, unfiltered and resolute. Verdict: . (Period) is not perfect. It bristles with contradictions – chaos and contemplation, wit and cheese. Yet that’s precisely what makes it compelling. It’s Kesha on her own terms: defiantly party‑fuelled but quietly profound, unashamedly OTT yet peppered with thoughtful self‑reflection. A messy, magnificent reboot.

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