Album Review: Mitski Makes it Clear That ‘The Land Is Inhospitable and So Are We’

In her seventh studio album, Mitski implores listeners to observe an exploration of her beloved orchestral sound through a folk-fueled lens; paired with an ever-developing lyrical reflection on herself and past relationships.

Written by Sydney Meier

After a hiatus from music in 2019, Mitski made a surprise comeback with synth shepherd Laurel Hell in 2022. However, trust issues formed from this hiatus and reports circulated that Laurel Hell would be Mitski’s last album. In a 2021 Rolling Stone article, she discussed her confidence in her music but wondered if it was all she was good at. In addition, her first single off the album “Working for the Knife” made it clear that a job she once loved and cherished had become an oppressive “knife” under which she had to live. Although Mitski herself never stated that the record would be her last, fans contemplated it would be due to her evident dissatisfaction with her musical pursuit. However, three years later in Laurel Hell’s unforeseen successor, The Land Is Inhospitable and So Are We, Mitski delivers a warm record that sweeps its audience off their feet.

The strummings of an acoustic guitar carry the onlooker into a narration about the religious experience of alcoholism and a cynical understanding that “a drink feels like family” on opener “Bug Like an Angel.” Comparing her descent into alcoholism to the story of Lucifer, she notices “a bug like an angel stuck to the bottom of [her] glass,” As our protagonist’s head is hanging over vomiting, she remembers “the wrath of the devil / Was also given him by God.” Her alcoholism was a predetermined destiny that her family and God gave her. Instrumentally, Mitski explores a side of herself fans had yet to see, a folk-inspired, southern “hymn-like” melody. It serves as an insight into what is to come while setting a purposefully false expectation for the songstress to do what she does best, diverting every preconceived notion a spectator could have.

If “Bug Like an Angel” introduces her audience to the record’s potential instrumentation, “Buffalo Replaced” sets the album’s visual scene. Southern entomologic staples “mosquitoes” and “fireflies” swarm her while she admires her surroundings by “suckin’ up…the full moon.” The choruses mention a “freight train” that is “stampedin’ through [her] backyard” supposedly replacing the “buffalo” that once inhabited the now barren track-laid land. Mitski employs vulgarity when discussing what to her is pure: hope. This hope goes against the grain, shitting “where she’s supposed to feed herself.” However, hope’s self-destructive tendencies don’t hinder the singer’s belief because she knows nothing can hurt her when she sees “her sleepin’ face,” reinstating a purity that was taken. A vivid picture is painted of a despairingly optimistic Mitski on the “plains” of the American Southwest with piano, drums, guitar, and touches of an organ to ease them along the expedition.

“Heaven” is a slow-tempo romantic retelling of the chronology of a relationship based on euphoric anguish. A twangy steel guitar and acoustic strums along to a recounting of a sexual experience. The indie icon reminisces on “all of our love filling all of our room,” allowing out a simple sigh of pleasure in the form of repeating four lines of “ooh” paired with swelling orchestral string instruments. The relationship progresses and she desperately longs for her lover, so much so she “sip[s] on the rest of the coffee [they] left / A kiss left of you” to feel any semblance of warmth they might have left behind. Death is the last stage discussed as “the dark awaits us / All around the corner” but Mitski begs for one more day to “stay awhile and listen for / Heaven.” The Japanese-born songwriter closes out this reflection with a layering of nostalgic woodwinds, piano, and string instruments as she repeats four more idealistic lines of “ooh.”

Gradually, drums and steel guitar ooze into listeners' ears as the absolutely enchanting love song “My Love Mine All Mine” begins. Calling back to the moon she consumed in “Buffalo Replaced,” Mitski asks “If I could / Send up my heart to you?” in hopes of preserving her love for her partner when she dies, “which [she] must do.” Death is not discussed in distress or sadness, but in a grounded reality where she accepts human fate. The 32-year-old musician reflects on this love she is trying so desperately to preserve: “My baby, here on earth / Showed me what my heart was worth.” In a song full of perfectly melded melodies, the chorus stands on soaring stilts of delicacy. Mitski’s layered vocals paired with soft drumming make it feel as though you are listening to emotions you have heard a million times over, but in an every unfolding and authentic way.

Mitski, however, is not rid of her synth sickness quite yet as “Star” — written during a SXSW trip — gives a nod to the ‘80s heavy instrumentals that accompanied Laurel Hell. A droning tonic of strings and organ lifts the listener into the atmosphere where she is recalling “remember when we met / We acted like two fools.” The droning rises in volume as Mitski notices “that love is like a star / It’s gone, we just see it shinin’ / It’s traveled very far,” comparing their relationship to the journey of a star. Light can take millions of years to travel across the universe, so if a star passes on, it can still appear in the night sky shining, even though it has long died out. The second verse begins and a steady drum beat is layered on top of the stinging actualization, “You know I’d always been alone / ‘Till you taught me / To live for somebody.” An atmospheric change occurs as the subtle orchestra evolves into a competing instrumentation for Mitski’s voice. Suddenly, the room is filled with stars as swirling orchestras lift audiences higher and higher into space. Mitski implores her lover for a semblance of remembrance: “I’ll / Keep a leftover light / Burning, so you can keep looking up / Isn’t that worth holding on?”

Mitski is eternally pleading for job security in a field where it's considered a rarity — an insecurity that still has not left her since 2013’s Retired From Sad, New Career In Business. In “I Don’t Like My Mind,” steel guitars and drums return as the performer announces she cannot be “left alone in a room” with her mind and “all its opinions about the things [she’s] done.” This ignorance of a mental state forces her to deflect by drowning her thoughts out with music, “work [herself] to the bone,” and “eat a cake / A whole cake.” However, there is a recurring realization when Mitski “get[s] sick and throw[s] up” that no one can escape their past as “another memory … gets stuck / Inside the walls of [her] skull waiting for its turn to talk.” There is a final plea of “please don’t take / Take this job from me.”

Although “The Deal,” and “I Love Me After You” have illustrative lyrics, their similar instrumental innovation makes them stand out. They both lead a person in with a false sense of peace, only to be pleasantly bombarded with chordal dissonance.

“The Deal” follows a hopeless Mitski, wishing to exchange her soul to finally be rid of an insurmountable weight. The song’s verses are rather unassuming with subdued strums and soft drumming, but dash with a startling crescendo of plunking strings and swelling cymbals once the chorus commences. The repetition of the line “there’s a deal that I made” sparks a rapid increase in tempo as the all-consuming drums begin to crush the sonnet beneath it. There is a sudden urge to run away as Mitski’s incessant begging produces panic and paranoia that arrive at an abrupt end. The congregation is stranded catching their breath, hoping to no avail for a sense of peace to be washed over their sweating bodies.

The closing song, “I Love Me After You,” ends the journey with a hopeful tone as the alternative vocalist is able to accept the person she is and the person she is becoming after a relationship concludes. Guests are guided in by humming, electric guitar, and a faint tambourine before the instruments, production, and vocals grow increasingly louder, mirroring the fact that the protagonist’s confidence is messily growing, as there is no one to stop her from being incoherently clangorous.

As an artist, Mitski employs cohesive instrumentals for each of her albums — Bury Me at Makeout Creek with a grungy modern rock sound or Retired from Sad, New Career in Business featuring a cacophony of SUNY Purchase student-led symphonies. The Land is Inhospitable and So Are We is no exception to this rule. A folky orchestral album filled with songs describing the trials and tribulations of Mitski’s life. Although these topics are not new to her discography, each work of her’s features an additional coat of refinement, coming at it from a different nuanced angle. Listening to a Mitski album is never a boring experience, and The Land is Inhospitable and So Are We proves this point once again. Supported by twanging steel guitars and a subtly atmospheric philharmonic, this seemingly impossible album allows its listener 32 minutes and 22 seconds of blissful contemplation.

REVIEWSAfterglow ATXSeptember 22, 2023sydney meier, mitski, alternative pop, folk pop, indie