Grace Jones is ferocious. She is a frightening, feisty glamazon who seems to be ignoring the banality of the process known as aging with her bold, chiseled features and statuesque natural beauty. She is a style icon and a pop culture legend, entirely approachable in interviews and staggeringly intimidating on stage. Simply speaking, I just can't get enough of her. Her latest release is the appropriately titled Hurricane, a title that partially represents the sheer and utter surge of all-out energy that Jones provides in her live performances, music and, well, her general existence. Fans following the trajectory of the album's release have most likely already heard the first third of the album, as "This Is Life" was leaked only a few days after the song "Corporate Cannibal" premiered during her set at this year's Secret Garden Party, an outdoor concert in London. Still, "Corporate Cannibal" remains unwaveringly cool, confident, and strong-a perfect way to set the mood of the album. "William's Blood," currently set for release as the album's second single, follows. Just as upon first listen, I remain somewhat underwhelmed. It's a powerful builder, but its personal content is a little too raw. Jones seems to be spilling the family secrets, and I don't want to hear them. The song is gorgeous nonetheless, and certainly a worthy addition to the album.

"Corporate Cannibal" is my favorite track off the album and the one that started off the Hurricane blitz earlier this year. It's not particularly interesting in terms of musical composition, but the unwaveringly demonic track is right up my alley, mashing evil taunts with a minimalist backing melody

The title track, "Hurricane," has been sculpted and molded in its production over the years, originally due for release on a soundtrack during the '90s. Luckily, it found its way onto a major release. Dotted with sparks of electro and a slow surge of string work, it's as achingly indulgent as any of Grace's masterpieces, yet displays a clear evolution in the artist's work. It's an appropriate track to base the release on, as it operates as a perfect representation of the Grace effect.

Sadly, the album draws to an abrupt close. It is a record that comes after an 18-year hiatus-a period of time complete with two near-album releases that never ended up seeing the light of day, followed by long years of unbroken silence. For the casual listener, a nine-track album could be seen as unfortunately premature. To Grace enthusiasts? It's a crime. Although, in hindsight, the number of tracks offered may as well have been as few as nine, because, as far as I'm concerned, even a triple-CD collection would have barely suited my desires.

And so, we have Hurricane, a return to form that easily trumps the uninspired Bulletproof Heart, which felt like an attempt to fit into the status quo with a more mainstream sound and was a slight misstep undoubtedly brought about by the increasing influence of Jones' record company.

As a good friend of mine explained, Hurricane operates better in theory than in execution: The album could never perform as imagined. It seems unoriginal at times, unfulfilling at others. Most of the tracks have sprinklings of that familiar island sound with a modern electronic glossing, but there's something unmonumental about the entire experience.

In a way, I fear this is the end. I don't foresee Jones stepping back into the studio at any point in the near future, and it's unlikely that any of the previous sessions will leak. It's worrisome to say the least, but a probable reality. However, while I cannot describe this release as entirely fulfilling, it does provide a moment of finality in tying together the strings of Grace's musical career.

For the sake of optimism, let's hope she proves me wrong and comes back swinging with an entire slew of new albums. As usual, it's Grace who says it best: "If I could have my way, there would never be an end to this beginning.