Foxes - The Kick (LP) - Clear Vinyl

Foxes has always had a knack for turning heartache into glitter, but The Kick lands with a special kind of clarity. Six years after All I Need, she returned with a third album that arrived on 11 February 2022 and felt like a rush of air to a sealed room. The title is literal and wry. Stuck at home during lockdown, she built these songs on the thump that drives every club night, then layered the kind of melodies you hum while washing dishes. It is a record about movement made when movement wasn’t allowed, which explains why its choruses hit like finally stepping outside.

Louisa Rose Allen’s voice stays front and center. It is light, a little silver at the edges, and still has that sudden lift that made “Clarity” a dance classic and won a Grammy alongside Zedd. Here, though, the voice is more grounded. On Sister Ray, the album’s standout single and a title nod to the Velvet Underground, she threads late-night nerves through a synth line that glows like neon. The song doesn’t copy the Lou Reed chaos; it flips the name into something starry and nocturnal, more about the emotional aftermath than the mess itself. Sky Love follows with a bigger drum pulse and a soaring hook that feels engineered for a festival field, even if it was dreamed up in a living room.

What’s striking is how Foxes balances sheen with bite. Dance Magic is a great example. The production sparkles, yet she sneaks in these subtle chord changes that yank the chorus somewhere bittersweet. You can throw it on for a rush, then notice the ache tucked under the hi-hats. Body Suit turns slower but not sleepy, a soft-focus pop track where the bass keeps a gentle sway and her phrasing sits closer to the mic, almost confessional. Too Much Colour closes the album like sunrise after the rave, dropping the BPM and letting harmony do the heavy lifting. It is the comedown you want, not the one you dread.

The record’s through line is motion. That makes sense given how it was written during months when dance floors were memories. She mentioned in interviews that she wanted songs you could move to at home without losing the euphoria of a club. You can hear it in the way the kick is mixed, hard enough to keep you upright but never crushing the vocal. The synth palette leans bright and ‘80s in places, though not in a costume-party way. There are little splashes of house and euro-pop, a reminder that Foxes has always been fluent in pop’s international language.

Critics in the UK caught the spark straight away, with publications like NME and The Line of Best Fit noting how confidently she snapped back into dance-pop. Fans did too. You could feel the relief around its release, like an old friend showing up with new stories and better shoes. It helps that the sequencing is sharp. The Kick doesn’t sag in the middle. It sets a brisk pace early, then eases you down over the last third without drifting into ballad bloat.

If you are crate-digging, The Kick vinyl is the way to live with these songs. The low end breathes, the choruses bloom, and it pairs nicely next to other Foxes albums on vinyl if you’re building out a corner of luminous pop in your shelves. I’ve spotted copies tucked near synth-pop staples at my local shop, the kind of thing you’d notice while browsing a Melbourne record store on a Saturday, and it’s the first title I steer people toward when they ask where to start. If you like to buy Foxes records online, put this one in the cart with zero hesitation. Same goes for anyone in the market for Foxes vinyl to gift a friend who needs a little sonic light. Shops that specialise in vinyl records Australia wide tend to carry it, and it sits comfortably next to Robyn and Jessie Ware in any cool collection.

The Kick isn’t trying to reinvent pop. It is trying to make you feel alive again, which is a tougher task. Foxes pulls it off with clear eyes and a steady heartbeat. By the time the last notes fade, you’re not just remembering nights out. You’re planning the next one.