Every now and then, I revisit a YouTube video of a ‘dead mall’ explorer walking through the now-desert strip mall that I grew up down the street from. It’s surreal, because I remember it as nothing less than a bustling shopper’s paradise – but now, it looks dismal and desolate, an abandoned relic of late 2000s consumerism. The dark brown tiles are out-of-touch, the artificial greenery has been left neglected, and nearly every shop window is either engulfed in shadows or obscured by a large “SPACE AVAILABLE” bulletin. I remember the timely pop hits that filled the hallways: muffled and muddy, serving as a never-ending loop of lukewarm ambiance. This video always makes me wonder: what if you could freeze that mall in time, capturing it at a moment when it still teemed with life?

U, the third album by underscores, feels like that utopian universe where pop music is still the buzzy sound of mass consumption. That isn’t to say it sounds artificial, or even insincere – her lucid approach to hooky songwriting and punchy four-on-the-floor dance-pop channels the distant echoes of Britney, Timbaland, K-pop idolatry and Imogen Heap for a seamless, singular project that stands firmly as her best, all while retaining that dynamic humanity that lies underneath all the gloss.

Compared to underscores records of years past, U is most discernible for being deliciously uncomplicated. Her sophomore, Wallsocket, is a progressive concept record engulfed in a knotty backstory surrounding a fictional Michigan suburb and a volatile cast of teenage girls living in it. Despite the impressive scale and tact of those songs, it’s hard to blame her – she shines the brightest when tinkering with the glamorous, larger-than-life glitz of her post-Y2K childhood. Lead single “Music” is truly frenetic, an all-encompassing glimpse into her world of infectious electro-pop worship. As inspired by bassy 2010s EDM as Timberlake’s FutureSex / LoveSounds, “Innuendo (I Get U)” is sultry and confidently slinky in the way that only a savant could pull off.

More than ever before, the album sees her writing like every passing second is her star-making moment: “Do It” brushes off NDA-laden hookups, while the pulsating trance-pop of “Hollywood Forever” finds itself jaded with major-label fame. It’s not a surprise that her most hedonistic set of songs yet ends up being her most euphoric.

However, like the best jewel-case pop albums of the 2000s, U matches its passionate highs with equally affecting moments of dramatic reflection. “Lovefield” is a mellow, synthy earworm of unrequited romance, and emotional highlight “The Peace” plays like an updated homage to Imogen Heap’s “Hide and Seek” with an a capella choir of vocoders fueling its stop-and-start rhythm. These treaclier ballads are just as compelling as the album’s highest-octane moments of pure pop bliss, a real testament to the air-tight craftsmanship that sees underscores in peak form and a symptom of her most consistent effort to date.

U doesn’t necessarily sound like my childhood mall, but it does sound like the rose-tinted memories I have of it: it’s that wondrous spirit of excess and optimism, causing a dingy strip mall to feel like the ultimate shrine to the successes of capitalism. No other imagery could have fit better for an album that finds itself utterly dedicated to populist pop perfection, melding its past, present and future together for one of the year’s most earnest displays of grandeur.

Pre-order U by Underscores HERE