Review
With Ace, Madison Cunningham dramatically pivots from the guitar-centric textures that defined her earlier work and instead embraces lush, chamber-pop arrangements built around piano, strings, and orchestral coloration. The album feels like a dismantling of expectation: where she once leaned on guitar virtuosity, here she surfaces through space, silence, and subtle shifts of harmony. Ace is quieter, less overtly accessible than past records, but it carries a quiet confidence and intricate musicality that reward close listening.
Lyrically, Ace is an album forged in heartbreak, dissolution, and renewal. Many of the songs spiral from the aftermath of a relationship’s unraveling — betrayal, fracture, and the messy process of disentanglement are recurring motifs. But Cunningham doesn’t linger in pain alone; she sketches paths toward agency and introspection. On tracks like “Skeletree” and “Mummy”, the emotional stakes are high, carried by lines that oscillate between accusation and self-reckoning. Even in her softer moments, the undercurrents of tension remain — the quiet feels fragile, as though held taut over a deeper wound.
Sonically, the production leans on precision and restraint. Collaborators like Robbie Lackritz and co-arrangers such as Jesse Chandler and yMusic help the record walk a line between orchestral sweep and intimacy. Woodwinds, piano, sparse guitar, and carefully placed string flourishes give Ace a cinematic feel without ever losing its emotional closeness. The shift to more acoustic ensembles allows Cunningham’s voice and lyricism to take center stage, giving the album a felt weight that’s beautifully deliberate.
Ace is an elegant, deeply personal statement — a record of unspooling and stitching back together, where beauty is found in small fractures and courageous vulnerability. It may not offer easy resolutions, but it delivers a haunting, resonant portrait of change. - Marcus
