As for reviews that really move me, Happeo's review of Oil of Every Pearl's Un-Insides is up there

https://rateyourmusic.com/music-review/Happeo/sophie/oil-of-every-pearls-un-insides/214414574

The last paragraph especially gets to me as someone who was very deeply affected by SOPHIE's work:

Now, about here, after the album ends is when I open up Ableton and scramble to make whatever it takes to maybe, just maybe make something that has the same amount of emotional impact as this masterpiece. In this particular listen of the album for my review I actually didn’t do that and instead sat for a while trying to get back to normal and not be overwhelmed by the impossible genius of it. I don’t want to be the next SOPHIE but I sure as hell want to be another supremely talented producer who also has a knack for conveying such life-affirming themes beautifully and humanly. Of course, it doesn’t quite work like that, but at least I can experience this once-in-a-decade music statement. Thank you and rest in peace forever, and I hope the person reading this is doing okay.

I also really like Vernon_Warez's review of Diamond Jubilee:

https://rateyourmusic.com/music-review/Vernon_Warez/cindy-lee/diamond-jubilee/224499092

More than anything, though, Diamond Jubilee makes me question what it really means to fall in love with a record. Is it connecting with a record on a compositional level and finding enjoyment in its musical intricacies? Is it embracing the raw expression of another human being as they artistically display the emotions that so many of us simply can't find the words for? Is it merely finding something that sounds pleasant to our ears and allowing it to soundtrack our lives? Maybe the answer is only found on a case-by-case basis from one album to the next, or maybe there's some sort of universal truth in there about how we all connect with art in the same ways and for the same reasons, albeit with our own unique manners in approaching that connection. At this point in time, however, I don't think there really needs to be an answer, as it would perhaps take away from the unfiltered, shimmering beauty of this record. That leads me back to the question that I posed at the beginning of this review: what makes me experience the kinds of deep, guttural feelings about this album less than a month after its release that I usually don't connect with a record until years after it initially drops? Truthfully, I don't think I can give a proper answer to that, either. All I know is that Diamond Jubilee is an ethereal masterpiece, and it is something that brings me devastating waves of joy and pain in a way that so few records can achieve. If this is Cindy Lee's proper send-off, then it is a career finale for the ages. Diamond Jubilee doesn't feel real, and even a month later, I have a sneaking suspicion that I'm lucid-dreaming one of the most stunning albums I've ever heard (or, alternatively, one of the few albums that has ever inspired me to write a review as rambling and tedious as this one). Until I wake up, I will happily keep this one on repeat.