Ace

The West Coast singer-songwriter’s third album is her best yet, a collection of songs spawning from a sporadic, feelings-forward writing process and diving into ideas of heartbreak and forgiveness.

Madison Cunningham explores a new moody sonic palette on her expressive third album, Ace.

Award-winning folk singer finds power in separation.

Ace is both the highest and the lowest card in the deck, and this duality reflects the album’s undercurrent: mastery and intuition, isolation and renewal, risk and control. It’s the card that can begin or end a game, its meaning shifting with the hand that holds it. And Cunningham has played hers carefully.

What begins as a deep-rooted lyrical intimacy soars into a flying sense of universality. You hate to blatantly compare artists in their own right to those of days gone by, but I can’t shake the feeling that this is like Blue, but for 2025.

This record may be disappointing to those who were hoping for more like Revealer, but for those who love Laurel Canyon-esque chamber pop, Ace will be a fulfilling listen.

The California musician’s third solo album is quieter and less accessible than her past work, but sacrifices none of her musical sophistication, adding newfound chamber-pop grandeur.