It might be named after a book by sexologist and essayist Annie Sprinkles, but it is very much the Catalan’s creation, drenched in hugely summery vibes with folk-angled vocals, and instrumentation that swirls and chimes across her tremendous walls of sound.
This is classy and complete. It’s likely the last word on how the disparate musical and personal threads of Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young were woven, creating the uneven yet tremendously successful and often musically spellbinding tapestry of Déjà Vu.