Every song on Clairo's new album 'Sling,' ranked from worst to best

"Joanie," named for Clairo's dog, is a four-minute and 45-second song without a single word. Clairo only shows up to croon some pretty "oohs," and even that is sparing.

Although I do respect the interesting artistic risk here, "Joanie" is ultimately a missed opportunity. It squanders an interesting, jazzy, Billy Joel-esque instrumental — as well as valuable real estate on a 12-track album.

This was a prime moment to infuse some fresh personality and recapture the listener's focus. Instead, it's a glorified interlude that has nothing to say.

Truthfully, I had to restart this song three times because I kept zoning out. It's perfectly pleasant, just doesn't have the juice to leave much of a lasting impression. If it has great lyrics, I didn't notice.

The harmonies are beautiful. The lines I do manage to catch are striking and nostalgic ("He loved me good enough to calm me down / But tried to trick me into little changes").

But I simply did not need another mild ballad with lyrics I can barely understand.

If this were the only Clairo song I heard today, I'd probably love it. But in the 11th slot on the tracklist, it's too much of the same.

I was really hoping for a big finale on "Sling," and in some ways, "Management" came through: The instrumentation is certainly grander and more theatrical than its predecessors. It made me think of "Moulin Rouge," for some reason.

The issue is that Clairo's voice remains soft and steady. I understand that's her calling card, but I would've liked to see her taking more risks in this final hour — stretching her range or experimenting with tone and volume — to better match the strings and sparkly piano lines swelling around.

"Bambi" is mellow and soothing, and the horns that kick in halfway through add some groovy texture.

Overall, however, I don't think "Bambi" would work as a standalone song. It reminds me of the opening credits for an indie comedy-drama — the main character making her way through New York City in the rain, her quirky umbrella bobbing through the crowds, perhaps filmed in black-and-white. Somebody get Greta Gerwig on the phone immediately!

"Just for Today" is a poignant meditation from the midst of a depressive episode. Its tender combination of acoustic guitar and orchestral strings flatters the theme — but sandwiched between similarly gentle songs, this production doesn't let Clairo's poetry truly shine.

I'm sorry to say that at this point in the tracklist, I began yearning for whatever drug "Bags" is spiked with. It's nothing against "Just for Today" specifically; every song thus far has been expertly produced and sincerely pretty, yet consistently low energy, to the point where they're blending together.

As superstar producer Finneas O'Connell has said, "Harmony is as big a component as any instrument might be to really fill out a recording."

This song is the perfect piece of evidence to back up that claim. "Harbor" thrives in the moments when a chorus of tiny Clairos rush to greet the listener. The effect is akin to Peter Pan's fairy dust.

At four minutes and 47 seconds, "Wade" is one of the longest songs on the tracklist, but the length works for its leisurely structure. The song moves in waves rather than verses and choruses, with instruments flowing in and out of focus.

It has a summery, underwater luau energy that compliments Clairo's silken voice.

"Reaper" vibrates with Kissin' Kate Barlow, sad-cowboy vibes, which is fun and refreshing for Clairo — particularly in the 10th slot on this tracklist.

This is the kind of song I'd love to hear while sitting around a campfire, or staring out the window on a road trip, pretending to be the sympathetic outlaw in a Western epic. I, too, keep forgetting that I'll have a family.

"Blouse" may not strike you as heady enough for a single, but its power simmers beneath that relaxed first impression.

This is easily some of Clairo's best lyricism to date, exploring feelings of violation and fury ("Why do I tell you how I feel / When you're just looking down the blouse?") that she distills into a quiet, desperate kind of bargaining ("If touch could make them hear, then touch me now").

She wants to be heard and valued at any cost, and it's a defeatist mindset that many women can, unfortunately, relate to.

Clairo's vocals sound lovely here, as always, but the production steals the show. I love the funky guitar plucks that arrive around the one-minute mark, and how they articulate a shift in the song — the arrival of a higher tempo, a fuller sound.

The 30-second instrumental outro, sweet and rich, is the cherry on top of this listening experience.

"Amoeba" immediately grabbed my attention, and it held my attention the entire time. It has an irresistible beat, accented by fizzy piano flourishes, that just makes you want to bounce on the balls of your feet.

True, Clairo could learn to enunciate, but I can still vibe to her unintelligible froth. I caught the words "epiphany," "party," and "skies," and with a song this bright and beaming, that's good enough for me.

Although I had a nice time listening to every song on "Sling," I can't say I'm eager to run through a second time.

This is unusual and sharply disappointing for me to report. "Immunity" was one of my favorite albums of 2019, and "Bags" is one of my favorite songs of the 21st Century. Songs like "Closer to You," "Sofia," and "4Ever" had me convinced that Clairo was a lo-fi pop prophet.

But "Sling" lacks the same charm — that inexpressible magic that brings me back to those songs over and over. It's warm and clean, certainly, like your favorite white t-shirt straight out of the dryer. Throw it on for a sunny picnic! Pack it for a relaxed beach day! But I wouldn't rely on it to leave a strong impression, or make strangers stop in their tracks.