The one truly positive takeaway from Kesha’s first album out of Dr. Luke’s clutches is that she has never not been herself in the nearly two decades since she arrived on the radio, mouth frothed with Jack Daniel’s. (pronounced ) brings her signature party-fueling hedonism to both current trends and the recession pop aesthetics she helped pioneer. Everything is an earworm that hugs your face like a newborn Xenomorph, but it’s so corny and who-cares, you must Ripley this shit no matter how truly meaningful it is that the album exists and Kesha is free.