Ariana Grande’s latest pop offering examines the messy, complicated self with the aid of a subversive, sonic palette.

Few have reached the stratospheric fame and pop adulation heights Ariana Grande has scored. Easily casting aside the stubborn associations with former children's TV stardom immediately upon her debut album Yours Truly, the following decade's worth of creative output has seen Grande become one of the biggest-selling artists ever, gaining billions in streams, two Grammys, and named one of Time's 100 most influential people in the world, all before turning 30.

So, where does one go when surmounting such conquests? With new album Eternal Sunshine, Grande opts to venture inward in a moment of contemplative retrospection, exploring her inner-self in all its messy complexity on the ruminative cusp of leaving your twenties behind. Taking thematic guidance from the 'Saturn cycle' and its supposed cosmic entryism into adulthood, Grande presents a highly personal album that takes intriguing creative detours atop its canvas of standard, pop fare.

"Why do you care so much whose **** I ride? Why?" quips Grande on the sardonic 'Yes, And?', an illustrative line of Eternal Sunshine's coyly deprecating character. Filled with stuffy critics gossiping about her private life in the song's accompanying video, the track's house bounce and pop fizz speaks to the buoyant liberation that comes with getting older and giving less of a fuck. The "****" is no unilateral censorship on our part, the 'ridden' in question is never actually stated but thrown ambiguously to the rabid media in a teasing fashion, a middle finger to the negative press that hounded her in previous years.

Other highlights include the deliciously caustic 'True Story', an acidic twist on early Destiny's Child with pulsing synth throbs omitting bassy palpitations with infectious allure, and 'Supernatural' glides radiantly with electropop bubbles and warm, muffled beats that soar effortlessly in effervescent tandem. Even the country washes of 'Imperfect for You', the thematic conclusion of Eternal Sunshine, never feel misplaced or inauthentic, the processed guitar strums intertwining with the song's intriguing vocal harmonies and arrangements scoring Grande's sincere lyrical explorations of flawed humanity and damaged relationships.

Said moments of pop marvel and affecting soul-searching can, unfortunately, get lost in washes of otherwise less immersive sonic textures and compositions. 'Bye's' Philadelphia soul disco feels more like an unwitting pastiche over an affectionate honouring, and 'Don't Wanna Break Up Again' reheats 90s Janet Jackson without any of Eternal Sunshine's otherwise subversive twists. 'We Can't Be Friends (Wait For Your Love)' teases with a grasp of euphoric propulsion but lapses into standard, clubland fodder that fancies itself as a Georgio Moroder-type phoenix but never quite takes off.

The album's less-inspired moments are never underwhelming enough to cancel out the record's overall shine, with songwriting that pulls you in with its barbed realism regardless of the sonic vehicle it's driven in. Another pop offering which will delight the faithful yet peppered with an intrepid sonic palette scoring a complex view of love, life, and the self that points to future creative peaks with anticipation.