Following the gorgeously moody catharsis of 2017's Arca, Alejandra Ghersi embraces all of herself and her music on KiCk i. The title of her first album as an openly non-binary artist suggests artistic rebirth, hinting at how Ghersi unites her traditions -- her commitment to challenging herself and her audience, her long-running creative partnerships, and her Latinx roots -- with her future on these boundary-breaking songs. She begins by demanding we take her as she is: "I don't give a f*ck what you think," she snarls on "Nonbinary." Though her quick-shifting style on her earlier albums could have been interpreted as an extension of her fluidity, as she purrs double entendres and sings about her swaying hips and trimmed waist, she's never sounded so proud about how her music and identity defy easy classification. To express the multitudes she contains, she polarizes her sound. KiCk i's vocals are either tough or ethereal, the synths sound like blades or clouds, and Ghersi's trademark clanging percussion evokes armor but also the cracks within it that allow her to grow. The rubbery, rattling beats of "Rip the Slit" couldn't be farther from "Time"'s graceful, weightless electro-pop or the haunted, Arca-like tones of "Calor," yet KiCk i's extremes of strength, vulnerability, aggression, and allure unite in a harmony that lets every part of her music shine. On "Mequetrefe," a delicate melody holds its own as a reggaeton beat reaches gargantuan proportions and Ghersi reclaims a derogatory Spanish term as a watchword for a revolutionary kind of masculinity. She goes even farther on the rumbling "Riququi," where she shatters different languages and styles and regenerates them as something new. Amongst this reinvention, Ghersi leaves plenty of room to share the spotlight with some trusted friends and collaborators, something she's excelled at for her entire career. Her duet with her musical godmother Björk on "Afterwards," on which the Icelandic legend sings a poem by Antonio Machado over cascading beats, is a heartfelt celebration of their deep friendship; "KLK," a dazzling deconstruction of reggaeton featuring Rosalía, is hopefully the beginning of another long-running partnership. Shygirl's hard-edged yet sensual delivery on "Watch" is another fine example of KiCk i's forward-looking femininity, while "La Chíqui" is as brilliantly unhinged as a team-up between Arca and SOPHIE should be, with self-destructing beats and vocals that reach for the skies. These kinds of unapologetic contradictions and fragments coexist on KiCk i in startling, beautiful, and genuine ways, making it a complete, and triumphant, portrait of Arca's artistry.