‘Laurel Hell’ is Mitski’s sixth studio album and possibly another farewell. During the ‘Be The Cowboy’ album tour, Mitski announced that she was taking a hiatus from music, until realizing she had to make another album due to a binding contract with her label, resulting in ‘Laurel Hell’.
Beginning with her somber ambiance into a glittery chime that she executes so well, ‘Valentine, Texas’ displays her reentrance into a dissatisfied life—a metaphor of her stepping back into the spotlight and scrutiny.
“Let’s step carefully into the dark, once we’re in I’ll remember my way around,” Mitski sings, almost exhaustedly.
It sounds so fatiguing, in a good way, connecting this reflective, numbing feeling with her audience. She masters any emotion so perfectly in a single song.
“Working for the Knife,” the second track, aches for another life where she does not feel trapped to make music, hence her hoped hiatus. It seems that criticism and restrictions from her life’s work act as the knife, killing her creativity and happiness.
Mitski sings about how no one cares about her stories–the wished meanings and purposes behind her music–and how she feels restricted with writing due to the need to appeal to a certain audience.
What Mitski does perfectly though is telling her stories. I and other Mitski fans enjoy her music because of her ability to capture feelings such as heart-wrenching sorrow.
‘Stay Soft,’ the third track, feels very disco through its danceable, upbeat tempo and rhythm. Though, a lot of Mitski’s work incorporates disco elements into her indie-rock-pop style such as, ‘The Only Heartbreaker’ and ‘Love Me More’.
Mitski is versatile and dynamic with her ability to attend to a wide array of genres and styles through her lyricism while keeping a significant depth.
‘That’s Our Lamp,’ the last, most underrated, and possibly my favorite track on the album is such an emotionally driven song about doomed lovers not yet ready to say goodbye accompanied by her longing coos in the background. She craves to be both liked and loved.
In this somehow dreamy yet gloomy reminiscent song of ill-fated love she sings, “You say you love me, I believe you do,” with the ever-present doubt lingering.
“Looking up into our room, where you’ll be waiting for me, thinking that’s where you loved me,” Mitski sings.
This line comes off as her romantic other only loving her in one place, the bedroom, rather than fully loving her like before—that true love has now worn off and only exists in memory.
‘There’s Nothing Left for You’ and ‘I Guess’ don’t do much for the album. They just feel a bit like short fillers, but I do enjoy how uncertain yet transformative ‘I Guess’ feels.
‘Laurel Hell’ is an album pieced together perfectly to capture this forlorn vulnerability that is held inside Mitski. She puts vulnerability, exhaustion, repeated dissatisfaction, and the aftermath of lovers’ quarrels, into a beautiful melody.
9.3/10.
