More about: Mitski

The sixth studio album of American singer-songwriter Mitski is highly-anticipated and long-awaited. Not only does its arrival follow a sold-out-in-seconds UK tour, but also comes just days after the announcement that she’ll be supporting Harry Styles at his arena dates this summer. 2022 is heading to be a huge year for her, and the release of Laurel Hell is the ideal set-up. Produced by long term collaborator Patrick Hyland, it fuses a new sonic approach of 1980s-inspired synthesisers with the classic wavering vocal and introspective lyrics that have earned her the dedicated cult following she has.

The album is a new direction for her; though the opening track ‘Valentine’ is a standard bop, with her crooning voice placed delicately atop the metallic melody beneath it, the album’s first single, ‘Working for the Knife’ is a dream pop spin on the avant-garde industrial music of the late eighties. Using a grinding, chugging synthesiser that loops behind her soft and reflective lyrics, it’s a delicate pop song that blends genres to create a mosaic almost indefinable. Each note, instrument and word has clearly been carved with immense consideration, proving Mitski to be an innovative artist who pays intimate attention to her craft.

Her lyrics touch upon similar themes to her previous albums; identity, heartbreak and loneliness all show their faces. ‘Everyone’ is harrowing in its exploration of the self, with cryptic lyrics and a steady beat that establishes a subtle feeling of dread. Mitski has the ability to write about specific yet ultimately unnameable emotions that arise from the complex reactions one has to everyday experiences; it is this sensitivity and her skill at noticing what’s going on inside and around her that makes her stand out from other artists.

Despite being recorded in 2021 (many of the songs on Laurel Hell were written around 2018), the alienation and isolation on display here is even more relevant now, in the no man’s land of the post-lockdown pandemic. The millennial existentialism that oozes from ‘Should’ve Been Me’ is especially pertinent in this climate — what with the constant analytical eye we’ve turned upon ourselves after COVID forced us inside, alone, and online. The motif of nature that lingers in each track is another nod to isolation, suggesting a dire need for rootedness and connection.

Sonically, Laurel Hell is Mitski's most fun. Songs like ‘Stay Soft’, ‘That’s Our Lamp’ and the aforementioned ‘Should’ve Been Me’ are aching to be danced to. ‘Stay Soft’ is reminiscent of Robyn and Little Boots — agonising yearning dismantled with whimsical finger-clicking and a beat impossible to ignore. It would be easy to miss the heartache that pumps through ‘That’s Our Lamp’ with it’s cheerful, jaunty beat that bleeds straight through. These songs stand out as the record’s finest — the occasional stripped-back, slowed down tracks elsewhere on the album can sometimes feel unnecessary and jarring in comparison. 

Mitski has now earned her place in — arguably — the best genre there is: tragic pop songs that encourage you to dance away the pain. With upbeat tempos and buoyant melodies uplifting the hopeless heartbreak of being alive, Laurel Hell is surely destined to end up filling gay club dancefloors everywhere. It’s a wonderful album, with Mitski truly cementing herself as the darling indie dreamboat we all know her to be.

Laurel Hell arrives 4 February via Dead Oceans.

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More about: Mitski