Life's Lemons Make Impressive Music

Surprise! Beyoncé dropped an album last week. Well, it wasn't a total shock (it was teased for weeks, unlike her 2013 self-titled release that appeared out of thin air) -- but the real surprise lies in the power and sheer artistry of the album itself.

"Lemonade" finds Beyoncé delivering a near-perfect album that deals with life's imperfections and shares her journey to understanding and overcoming them. Critics are quick to try to label it, but it's not just a "black" album or a "woman" album or simply a relationship-drama album. "Lemonade" is important music for everyone, shared through the filters of how Beyoncé explores her various levels of identity: her race and gender, her sexuality and spirituality, her marital versus maternal instincts, and her political and professional statements.

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, but Beyoncé isn't just any woman. She'll pray for you to confess, but she's ready to fight if she has to. On the tongue-in-cheek "Sorry," she doesn't play the blame game, making her subsequent sound and fury signify many different things. The album's unpredictability is irresistible; ever-growing as an artist, Beyoncé eagerly experiments (and succeeds) with unique vocalizations and musical styles that never feel forced or betray the album's meticulously crafted vision.

"Hold Up" gives us tongue-twisting lyrics and trilling, staccato notes, while perky, plucky strings underscore her musings about whether it's worse to be jealous or crazy. "Don't Hurt Yourself," a stellar if unexpected collaboration with Jack White, doesn't just fuse R&B with rock -- they collide with enough force to propel her words into the stratosphere. "6 Inch," featuring The Weeknd, is sultry musical noir at its finest, right down to its strained, plaintive whispers of "come back..." "Daddy Lessons" basks in country and jazz influences, while "Sandcastles" is a simple, stripped-down piano number that's the beating heart behind the album's pain and struggle. When Beyoncé's voice goes ragged and cracks near the song's middle, it's a defining moment for a singer of such caliber to be so transparently human. "All Night" has a soaring, affirming chorus that could melt even the most jaded cynic, and I dare you not to get goosebumps during the stirring anthem "Freedom." You can't help it, because this album moves the body as well as the soul.

To watch the film that accompanies "Lemonade" is to experience the album on a masterfully elevated plane. Eloquent, voice-over interludes of Beyoncé reading the feminist poetry of Warsan Shire are matched with luminous visuals that illustrate those words as well as the songs. Combining black-and-white and color footage, we also get some truly avant-grade cinematography. (Let's talk about that stunning underwater bedroom segment!) In the ultimate chicken-egg scenario, it's hard to discern which came first: the music, the lyrics, the imagery, or the poetry. They all work in tandem so astonishingly that the film demands repeat viewings just to absorb all of its striking parallels.

It's increasingly rare to hear an album where the songs work on their own but also tell a complete story when listened to in order. It's easy to call "Lemonade" a concept album, but it's clearly an album with a message and a purpose, and closing track "Formation" is its call to action. I've never really been on board with calling Beyoncé "Queen B" like the rest of her fans, but "Lemonade" has compelled me to recognize royalty when I hear it.