While self-titled albums often imply that they contain the definitive take on an artist's style, in Twin Shadow's case, it feels more like a redefining. On his fifth full-length -- and his first on his own Cheree Cheree label -- George Lewis, Jr. reconnects with what made him love music in the first place. His formative love of soul and punk, as well as his Dominican roots, make for a nostalgia that's different from the kind usually associated with his music. To be fair, Twin Shadow's sound has never stayed still; over the course of a decade, Lewis moved from the hazy chillwave of Forget to the neon '80s power ballads of Confess and Eclipse, which he took to epic heights on Caer. In the wake of that album, Lewis released bachata-tinged singles and EPs that hinted that he was retooling his sound, but Twin Shadow reveals just how significant those changes are. Even more significant is the sense that, for the first time since perhaps his debut album, it sounds like Lewis is making music primarily for the fun of it. He revels in the opportunity to try different things on Twin Shadow, even if it's through the lens of his past. On "Gated Windows," the love he feels for his birthplace is palpable as he wraps its bodegas and "warm green air" in swirls of melodeon, psychedelic guitar, and brass, and the closest he comes to the era he's usually inspired by is the Prince-like reverie "Modern Man." Similarly, "Sugarcane" is as dreamy as anything on Forget, but its funky clavinet and taut rhythm guitars come straight from 1970s R&B. "Brown Sugar" is even more audacious, setting its reminder not to waste time or originality on people who don't understand to a '50s chord progression and '80s synth string hits. As freewheeling as its music gets, Twin Shadow's songwriting unites its flights of fancy. There's a clearer sense of storytelling on songs as different as "Alemania," a sultry tale of falling in love featuring Kadhja Bonet, and "Lonestar," a renegade meeting of reggae, synth pop, and country. No matter what sounds he draws upon, Lewis' way with hook-filled pop endures, whether it's the tropical bounce of "Johnny & Johnnie," the brassy strut of "Get Closer," or the disco-funk of "Is There Any Love." The many ways Lewis puts aside expectations on Twin Shadow pay off handsomely, and listeners who can do the same will have a lot of fun hearing him follow his bliss.