It is the record where Kate Bush stopped asking permission. After “The Dreaming” baffled her label, she built a studio in a barn behind her family home and made the next album almost entirely on her own terms. The result splits cleanly down the middle: side one is five of the finest pop songs she ever wrote, opening with the one everybody knows; side two is “The Ninth Wave,” an unbroken seven-part suite about a woman lost overnight in the sea, drifting between sleep, hallucination and rescue. Hardly anyone tried that in 1985, and almost nobody made it sound like this. It went to No. 1 at home and quietly became the album that, decades later, would hand her a second life she never saw coming.