Margaret Talbot writes in The New Yorker about The Enduring, Incandescent Power of Kate Bush after working her way through the box sets:
I spent most of a week last month in a Kate Bush-induced reverie—or was it a swoon? I know there were tears: you try remaining dry-eyed listening to “This Woman’s Work” on a cold November night after a glass or two of wine; if you do, I don’t want to know you. There may have been some ecstatic dancing that alarmed the dog; there was definitely some animated texting of lyrics to my children, who, at twenty-two and nineteen, are both, bless them, Kate Bush fans. She seemed, in certain ways, so current in her embrace of femininity as power—protean, generative, and emotive—and in the fact that, for all her artiness, she also eagerly grabbed onto the contemporary pop sounds and tools that she liked (drums recorded with the heavy-hitting effect called “gated reverb,” which was favored by Michael Jackson and Phil Collins, for instance). She anticipated a busier and more nonchalant traffic between pop and indie music.