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The Long-Awaited Return Seven years separate the release of cello-playing singer-songwriter Kelsey Lu's debut album, Blood, from its follow-up. Lu has suggested the long gap was an act of artistic rebellion against a music industry obsessed with providing a constant stream of new product – "tuning into my intuition, trusting myself and building a team to support that," as they put it. An Artist's Evolution During her hiatus, Kelsey Lu has been remarkably prolific in other artistic pursuits. They have scored two movies: the Bafta-winning Earth Mama and the Netflix documentary feature Daughters. They have collaborated with Beverly Glenn-Copeland, Yves Tumor, Mykki Blanco, Jamie xx, Boys Noize and visual artist Kevin Beasley and contributed a version of Manchild to a Neneh Cherry tribute compilation. They have been photographed by Nan Goldin for a Gucci campaign and staged a performance art piece at New York's Metropolitan Museum of Modern Art. A Cohesive Vision So Help Me God suggests that Kelsey Lu's time away from album-making has sharpened their sense of purpose. It's more cohesive and less obviously in thrall to Lu's influences than Blood – a very good album, but one that was regularly visited by the ghost of fellow avant-pop cellist Arthur Russell. It mostly proceeds at an unhurried, summer-afternoon pace – even the drum'n'bass rhythm of Only the Lonely feels languid, distractedly fading in and out of the track – but its 50 minutes nevertheless pass in a flash. Collaborative Mastery The album's guest list is as eclectic as Lu's activities over the last seven years: pop super-producer Jack Antonoff, jazz saxophonist Kamasi Washington, British singer-songwriter Sampha and former Sonic Youth bassist Kim Gordon. Rather than jarring or showy, their appearances are beautifully sublimated. The melodies of the Antonoff-assisted tracks shine through abstract arrangements, though the melodies of the songs on which Antonoff gets no credit are every bit as strong. Experimental Beauty Reaper exemplifies what the album has to offer. It starts as a lovely piece of soft-focus pop-soul, before something more peculiar begins to encroach. The drums begin to drop unexpectedly out of the mix, then reappear, then vanish entirely. What initially seems to be an ambient coda, replete with Washington and Gordon's contributions, turns out to be a lengthy interlude before the song gathers itself again in a noticeably different form: slower, driven by a drum machine, the whole thing shimmering with tremolo effects. The Art of Waiting So Help Me God is very clearly the work of someone who has their own vision and their own way of doing things. It's an album that wears its weirdness lightly, that keeps moving in unexpected directions with an impressively graceful smoothness. While it's a shame that Kelsey Lu makes albums so irregularly, you leave the album eager to hear more, yet unsure of when you might. If it takes her another seven years to follow it up, so be it: some things are worth waiting for, and So Help Me God is one of them.