The Blessed Madonna (US)

Godspeed might be Marea Stamper's debut album, but it's not exactly her first. She completed a whole different LP and then shelved the project entirely when the pandemic hit. Fast forward to 2021 and she was without a record deal, her father had died, and the future was far from certain. The party seemed like it might have been over. But instead of giving up, she started all over again.

Stamper dusted off a few tracks, made some new ones, and sent them around. One label asked her to make a couple more and offered some studio time. Three years and "thousands of hours" of work—and a lot more than two tracks—later, she finished Godspeed, a living, breathing behemoth of a house music album whose journey was so complex and unpredictable that the title wasn't even decided until just a day before finishing the LP. The result is an all-encompassing look at a seasoned raver, expressed in an age-old way: music that celebrates the power of music itself, surrounded by friends and family to share in that joy with. There are over 20 guest features on the LP, which is an intensely collaborative affair. Kylie Minogue, Joy Anonymous's Henry Counsell, and Shaun J. Wright are among the artists who lend a hand (or a voice). The all-star guest list was a result of building natural friendships, the kind that Stamper thought she couldn't make anymore after up and moving her life so many times, and that spirit of love and care infuses Godspeed with a human warmth.

"Every DJ secretly wants to be in the band," she says, and the collaborative approach bolsters the album. Jacob Lusk soars on "Mercy." Disco digger KON provides a steady guiding hand here and there, and Kareen Lomax struts and wails on "Somebody's Daughter." The latter features a recording from Stamper's late father after hearing about her record deal. "One of the last things I got to tell him was that I signed the album deal," she says, "and people would hear this track, they would just burst into tears in front of me."

Pioneering house vocalist Jamie Principle appears on the centerpiece "We Still Believe," whose title has been Stamper's guiding light since she started DJing. The lyrics, like so many on the album, are simple, catchy, and rhythmic. Stamper writes in tongue-twister cadences and snappy phrasing that she credits to a lifetime of doing crossword puzzles. We also hear from the protagonist herself on Godspeed's many interludes, where wisecracks, conversations between friends, and idle studio chat offer a peek into her inner world.

Faith has always been a crucial part of Stamper's life, coming from an Appalachian family that was half Catholic and half Pentecostal. A big-tent sense of religion and togetherness defines the track titles and often the lyrical content. "Godspeed," "Mercy," "Carry Me Higher," "We Still Believe"—these are tracks about the power of faith, about "Pure Love" and redemption. "When your dad dies on you, you go through some major God shit," she says. But the songs aren't preachy or evangelizing, instead focusing on universal themes of love and forgiveness.

For Stamper, church and dance music aren't all that different anyway. It's all about transformation through suffering and the power that trials and tribulations can bestow upon the survivor.

That's the idea behind the creative direction for Godspeed, which was conceived with UK DIY artist Sports Banger and inspired by Stamper's twin flames of rave and religion. The album cover depicts the laying of the hands, a ritual where a group of people put their hands on a recipient to transfer blessing and healing (a moment that can get quite heated in the right Pentecostal church). The front cover is paired with a salacious back featuring a close-up of Stamper's husband Vadim wearing a custom-made Godspeed belt-buckle, and in between is a gatefold featuring relics from across her 30-plus-year musical history, from the wilds of Kentucky to Chicago to London and beyond. It's half party flyer, half sermon advertisement in a newspaper.

The sacred and profane align beautifully on "Edge Of Saturday Night," a club-ready barnstormer featuring Kylie Minogue that highlights the twisty cadence and humor of Stamper's lyrics—"I'm going deeper and deeper / six deep in the bathroom stall"—with an unabashed celebration of hedonism.

The album is a labor of love, an homage to Stamper's roots that also updates it for the future. It's a little bit retro, a little bit futuristic, a bit pop and a bit avant-garde, full of sputtering drum patterns and left turns that frame the rawness of proto-house as the sound of now. It's uplifting but realistic about the world, covering the spectrum of human emotions instead of focusing on escapism. Or, as Stamper says: "Same shit, new soundtrack."