This album is deeply marked by grief: Power is her first one made after her mother’s death, and the way she weaves that absence through songs like “Rot” and the closing “Everything Changes” is quietly devastating. The production is delicate — cello here, muted drum machine there, never overdone — which only makes the emotional weight more vivid. On the title track, she sings, “I want to feel your power,” and you can feel her reaching for something just beyond her reach: memory, legacy, peace.

But alongside mourning, there’s love. In “Sleeping In,” she celebrates domestic intimacy: “you like sleeping in, so now I do too.” It’s a small, soft moment, but it speaks volumes to how much has changed in her life. The love she’s found doesn’t erase the loss; instead, it becomes another thread in her evolving story. That maturity — to carry contradiction, to let joy coexist with sadness — is Power’s real strength.

As some critics have noted, the album isn’t as structurally explosive as past Illuminati Hotties records. There are moments when things feel almost too smooth, too polished, like she’s deliberately holding back. But in that restraint lies a quiet bravery: Power isn’t about proof or defiance, but about presence. It’s about reckoning with grief without letting it define everything.

Listening to Power feels a lot like sitting at dawn in a quiet room, watching shadows move slowly across the wall. It’s thoughtful, fragile, and ready to heal — on its own time. Illuminati Hotties hasn’t lost her edge; she’s just sharpened a different one.

Photography at top of the page by Shervin Lainez.