On her seventh studio album as St. Vincent, indie pop-rock auteur Annie Clark explores some exciting sonic frontiers, but falls short of making any meaningful impact. All Born Screaming showcases Clark’s pitch-perfect rock and roll sensibilities, bringing her expert guitar playing back to the forefront after 2021’s 70s-inspired diversion, Daddy’s Home. Whereas the sonics mark a return to form, All Born Screaming’s platitudes about death and revolution fall too short to leave any lasting impression, beyond a handful of catchy hooks and some half-baked, moody concepts.

All Born Screaming houses some of the most fine-tuned bangers of Clark’s career. The album is entirely self-produced; free from Jack Antonoff’s proficient but middling touch, Clark has space to showcase her guitar chops. “Broken Man” indulges in the simplest pleasures of rock and roll to great effect, with a slow but steady build of fuzzy guitars driven by a toe-tapping cowbell beat. The track reaches a bombastic fever pitch of a climax, punctuated by Dave Grohl’s fiery drums. It’s a musical dose of adrenaline, making it all but impossible to resist singing along with Clark’s furious repetition of “What are you looking at?!” The industrial funk of “Big Time Nothing” sees the project of St. Vincent at its finest. The song combines the tongue-in-cheek commentary on modern femininity from Masseduction with the oddball melodic sensibilities of her stellar self-titled album, all tied together with a deliciously funky synth and bass line. 

While the album features some career highs for Clark, it also has some real stinkers. “Sweetest Fruit” is bafflingly out of touch. Writing of electronic artist Sophie Xeon’s tragic passing, Clark churns out maybe one of the worst verses of her career: “My SOPHIE climbed the roof / To get a better view of the Moon / My God, then one wrong step / Took her down to the depths / But for a minute, what a view.” The verse is gauche, to say the least. It leaves an odd taste in my mouth when taken into account with “Candy Darling”, the closer from Daddy’s Home known for grossly romanticizing the life and death of yet another iconic trans woman. Given the recency of Xeon’s death and her importance in queer circles, Clark’s attempt to mine her for poetry makes for an uncomfortable listen. “Sweetest Fruit” isn’t a grave offense, but it’s a disappointing misstep on what is otherwise one of All Born Screaming’s sonic highs.

Beyond the baffling lyrics of “Sweetest Fruit”, other songs share the same fate of sounding good, but missing the mark lyrically. On “The Power’s Out”, St. Vincent relishes in some delightful melodrama, but her vague, toothless allusions to the state of current events deprive the track of any real bite. She attempts some level of gallows humor, but with clunky lyrics like “And ‘Ladies and gentlemen, do remember me smiling’ / The queer on the train said as she jumped off the platform,” I find it hard to believe Clark is in on the joke. “Violent Times” perfects the slinky, brass-tinged feel of a classic spy movie theme, but its platitudes about “chasing dollar signs” and ruminations on the famous “lovers discovered in an embrace” at Pompeii land the track in generic territory. St. Vincent is aware the world is in turmoil; she doesn’t seem all that curious to explore what that really means, though. 

St. Vincent is an indie mainstay for a reason. She has proven herself as a continual talent with a real ear for composition, and has no trouble pumping out earworm after earworm. On All Born Screaming, however, she commits the cardinal sin of being a little, well, boring. Her claims to delve into heady, philosophical territory land with a thud, giving the overall impression of a series of creative writing exercises rather than treading any new ground. Sure, we are all born screaming. I just wish she cared more to address why we’re all still screaming.