It Doesn’t Have to Make Sense is art in its own right. It’s an album soaked in bittersweetness and the awful near-ineffability of grief. But it’s also one that celebrates the beauty of feeling. And in it, Michaelson continues to do what she does best: navigate emotions of all kinds, manifesting them in songs filled with serendipity and sprightly rhymes. It Doesn’t Have to Make Sense is a slightly dark delight from Michaelson, and ultimately just reminds me why we adore her so much. With her piano-fueled songwriting, witty wordplay, and slight vocal vibrato, Ingrid Michaelson carried the tradition of the female singer/songwriter into the 21st century.