It’s 2025, and FKA twigs is still living in the future while the rest of us fumble to catch up. A chimeric figure in pop’s avant-garde, she pulls from ballet and bondage, sacred hymns and nightclub sleaze, threading them together with a meticulousness that often feels more alchemical than artistic. But most interestingly, she operates as a glitch in the system: an artist too mercurial to pin down, too self-possessed to commodify fully. Her latest album, Eusexua (a portmanteau of “euphoria” and “sexuality”) which draws heavily from techno, experimental dance music, and the guttural thrum of underground raves, finds twigs enduring in her refusal to inhabit any space except the liminal.

“Striptease”, taken from the album, is a haunting, shape-shifting track that invites both reverence and voyeurism. Over a skeletal but persistent beat and a thrum of distorted synths, twigs’ voice as always is somewhere between a whisper and a lament. “Opening me feels like a striptease,” she repeats, her voice airy, trembling and unyielding. The metaphor lands not because it’s clever but because it’s visceral. It is a full-body surrender, the kind of honesty that feels dangerous and holy at the same time.

The beat fractures midway through the song, replaced by shards of dissonant sounds that feel like they’ve been pulled from the depths of an after-hours delirium. It’s a moment that could easily feel chaotic, but under twigs’ deft control, it instead feels like an excavation — of desire, of ego, of performance. Her ability to make something so splintered feel so precise and enjoyable is why she remains one of pop’s most singular auteurs and one of the most innovative artists of her generation.