In between 2017's Meaning of Life and its 2023 follow-up, Chemistry, Kelly Clarkson successfully launched a television talk show. She also divorced her husband of nearly a decade. The professional success and the personal loss fuel Chemistry, a record that's firmly within the tradition of post-divorce albums that stretch from Bob Dylan's Blood on the Tracks to Adele's 30. Clarkson doesn't flinch from the facts of the separation, frequently alluding to both pain and progression, taking the time to note how her life does not suck without her ex. Good times are remembered, too, but the positive moments arrive in the form of self-affirmations, such as the gospel-inflected "me." Like so many of its self-introspective cousins on Chemistry, "me" is accented by some heartfelt flair, yet at its core, it's a moody and muted piece of music that achieves propulsion not through rhythm or melody but through Clarkson's performance. Never a stranger to belting out a song, she sings with evident passion throughout the record, giving its darkened corridors some measure of light without entirely washing away the gloom. There are just enough moments of brightness -- the neo-disco "favorite kind of high," the exuberant self-empowerment of the closing "that's right," and "i hate love," which is funny enough to warrant its cameo from Steve Martin -- to make the rest of the album seem curiously stiff. Despite Clarkson's rousing performances and optimistic outlook, Chemistry feels cloistered and secluded, lacking pathways into its inner sanctuaries. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine