The art world is filled with archetypes. Take for example how every precocious pop starlet from Britney to Lady Gaga to Ariana Grande has garnered comparisons to Madonna.
On the other hand, it’s almost impossible to overhear any discussion about quirky art pop femme fatales (see: Bjork, St. Vincent, Regina Spektor) without the name Kate Bush being dropped somewhere.
But for all my love of the inventive artists often compared to her, I hadn’t actually spent any time with her work until a few months ago when I decided to spring for (what I understand to be) her seminal record, Hounds of Love. That leap of faith was rewarded tenfold.