EUSEXUA is the latest offering of music with a mission to push a self-made philosophy onto
the audience. Avant-garde maestro FKA twigs coined the word ‘Eusexua’ to define what is
basically the pinnacle of human experience, the climax of inspiration, effortless presence
and an undeniable freedom. She has now returned from her half-decade orbit around the
sun with her third LP, stated with a new outlandish close-up of her face for us all to wonder
how she’ll wholly explain Eusexua to us.

We have been trusting this new sentiment of hers since the release of the title track back in
September. She proposes it, “The way that we transcribe it can change the course of time”,
following along a trance of minimalistic psychedelia. It’s extremely delicate like the attention
she demands you pay, like a spider slowly crawling around your ear. This could be
considered some of her creepiest and abstractedly dominating work since 2016’s
M3LL155X. Later on, she stepped into the 2000s-pop throwback room with Perfect Stranger.
This was a sci-fi-themed clapback at what has been a difficult decade being observed in the
public eye for her difficult relationships. She asserts herself in a new confidence for the sake
of intimacy, only as itself; no personality attached except her own. She told the final secret of
'Eusexua' in November with Drums of Death. The telephone glitches vibrating across the
entire soundscape sound like an advertisement to her cause with Koreless’ upbeat and
convincing force. It claps, it’s harsh, it’s hard to miss and impossible to ignore. Her voice
dances along as she states slogans for the term, such as “Devour the entire world, fuck it,
make it yours. Do it just for fun.”
If you have been watching EUSEXUA unfold before the grand reveal, I don’t think you would
have been expecting a pivot to throwbacks and tasteful referencing for the rest of the album,
whether that be to her inspirations or to herself. This album proceeds as if she is rewriting
her story and imagining herself in a different world where ‘Eusexua' had run through her
psyche since the beginning.
Girl Feels Good is a solid tribute to Ray of Light-era Madonna, deep in an ocean of sonorous
synths, booming you backwards into a corner where the 90s hasn’t ended yet. Hypnotising
enough to drift the motion of your eyelids, she sings with an aim to disassemble her men just
like Madonna would - “Beautiful boys, I wish you knew how precious you are. Your mother’s,
sister’s, lover’s heart is where there’s healing.” Room of Fools then emulates Björk’s vocal
command; caroling, protesting and belting over a glorious gallop of crystallised house, just
like the Debut we know and love. Her raw affirmation of “It feels nice” ties the nostalgia all
together.
The next two tracks add extra layers to the sounds of her previous work. Sticky goes back to
square one at 2016’s Good to Love, where she yearns for a power in her vulnerability and
ability to forgive herself over a dramatically quiet backdrop. She has long-time fans cheering
from the reference to Lights On in the first verse. Her adlibs bounce on a glossy floor that
only gets colder at a rapid velocity. Her emotional wishes creep up on you until the bigger
ball of bass-broken industrial synth hits you in the face like a jumpscare, just as you were
veering away from her spiral. Keep It, Hold It is reminiscent of 2019's MAGDALENE as a
metallic harp manipulates the depiction of her inner voice to sound sent by an angel. There
are still touches of floorboard creaks and whispers from twigs that are just as mean to the
spine as thousand eyes was. She then lets out a war cry we have not heard since fallen
alien over a classic but slowly-decaying dance beat - making “Sometimes I feel like I’m not
even trying” sound like a life-ending offence.
Childlike Things takes a very unexpected turn to an electronic translation of baroque pop
with quirky cheers and joyful piano notes, also accompanied by a verse by North West in
Japanese. The “da da da”s can predict the looping echolalia in the listeners head if they
continue to listen to this sunshine-lollipop-rainbow playfulness.

The final three tracks are a rocket launch into more spaced-out territory. Striptease is the
climax of her character. She sings euphorically drunk at the verse and monologues the
seduction in her openness through a throbbing of R&B production that keeps on flourishing.
24hr Dog intensifies where the previous track left off, opening a silver gate into a purgatory
of beeping. The production is a prospered callback to Water Me as she embraces her
physical vessel where it is soulfully pursued and not rejected like before. The reverb in her
vocals hoard all sensuality to herself as she melodically pants like a dog; ultimately
intensifying, yet purifying this locus of passion. The closing track Wanderlust follows the
format of thank you song, opening with unfiltered lyricism and delivery. She states
wanderlust as her final demand in the style of opera that sends storms from the voice box of
an enchantress. There’s a rare tint of guitar that we never hear from twigs. Several different
sounds flow through this track, equally wishing you well at curtain call as you take the
teachings of ‘Eusexua’ with you.
As inspired by her introduction to rave culture, FKA twigs’ experimentalism in electronica
stands as firm as it always has in this new environment. Her interpretations of her
discoveries for a new project can always be trusted. All of the references to other works do
not deny her innovation that has the message of EUSEXUA stuck in your head. It seems
almost every song loosely plays with switch-ups, pushing the listener forward each time as a
sensual strike from the true excitement poured into this album.
Elias Serghi
Edited by Alice Beard
Comments