Juju is a masterclass in tightly wound tension and dynamic post-punk songwriting, where atmosphere and precision collide in stunning fashion. The album opens with Spellbound, which immediately sets the tone with Budgie’s frantic tom-heavy drumming driving the track like a heartbeat in panic, while John McGeoch’s guitar is the real scene-stealer. He slices through the rhythm with chiming arpeggios and angular riffs that feel both melodic and aggressive. Siouxsie Sioux’s vocals rise over it all like an incantation, measured and hypnotic, then veering into near-mania at just the right moments. What stands out structurally throughout Juju is how meticulously arranged each track is. The band balances repetition and contrast brilliantly, especially on Arabian Knights, where Middle Eastern-inspired modal guitar lines wind over a taut, circular bassline. The vocals dance between seductive and scathing, and the guitar work refuses to settle into anything predictable. McGeoch often abandons traditional solos in favour of cascading motifs and eerie textures. The rhythm section is mechanical yet expressive, underpinning songs with an almost krautrock-like insistence while still allowing moments of eruption and drama. Then there’s Night Shift, one of the most disturbing and beautifully crafted tracks of their catalogue. It creeps in with ghostly harmonics and slow-building tension, building on drones and a sparse bassline until it erupts in bursts of discord and release. Siouxsie’s delivery here is haunting, edging into theatrical horror without tipping into parody. Across the entire album, there's a remarkable control of dynamic range. Quiet passages feel ominous, not restful, and loud moments hit with full weight. Juju isn’t just stylish goth rock. It’s architecturally sound, emotionally raw, and musically fearless. An absolute peak in their discography and the genre at large.