Album Review: Mitski Goes to ‘Laurel Hell’ and Back
Mitski returns to the music scene with a melodramatic yet danceable reflection on being her own ticking time bomb with odds already stacked against her.
Written by Isabel Alvarez
Photo courtesy of Ebru Yildiz
Whether people found her through remixes of “Nobody” on TikTok or have been feeling the pit of their stomach turn to “Class of 2013” since its release 9 years ago, there is no denying Mitski is one of the biggest names in indie music today. After a short stint away from the spotlight following 2019’s Be the Cowboy tour, Mitski returned last October with alternative rock-esque single “Working for the Knife,” and later the announcement of her sixth album, Laurel Hell.
Mitski has never shied away from unadulterated vulnerability in her music, and her newest work is no exception. Even the album’s title sets a grim mood with a double meaning: the laurels reference both the inescapable thickets in the Southern Appalachians as well as symbolic signifiers of fame and success. Melodically, the album hops between tracks that could make even the biggest spaces feel claustrophobic and others that feel like running down a path with seemingly no end. Considering she wrote most of this album in quarantine, uncertainty and the feeling of powerlessness against change trickle throughout each track.
“Valentine, Texas” sets the stage for the album’s tone, beginning with a small hum and the murmur of “Let’s step carefully into the dark.” The sudden burst of melody ripples out the tension of the song, which stylistically is unlike any of her previous opening tracks. Though she hasn’t specified what the song references, the real small town of Valentine is the location of Prada Marfa, an art installation of a model Prada store that critiques the way materialism finds its way into even the most barren locations. Even though it is a disruption to the natural beauty, nothing sustains the structure, so eventually even nature will overtake it. Nevertheless, this song feels like a step into a world of old memories coming back to a familiar light, which could reference her return to music. Mitski further highlights the tension of the song, coupling lyrics about the overwhelming power of nature with dissonant chords. She sings, “Where dust devils are made by dancing ghosts as they kick up clouds of sand / Where clouds look like mountains.”
Lead single “Working for the Knife” rightfully trails behind such a strong opener, addressing Mitski’s fears that giving so much for her career will become her undoing — if it hasn’t already. Throughout the song, she pokes fun at people’s adages about getting through turbulence to see what beauty can come out on the other side. However, she eventually faces the realization that there may be no other side: “I used to think I'd be done by twenty / Now at twenty-nine, the road ahead appears the same / Though maybe at thirty, I'll see a way to change,” she sings over a cyclical melody of guitars, synth and percussion that feel like walking up an endless staircase.
Three of the catchiest songs on the record, “The Only Heartbreaker,” “Love Me More,” and “Should’ve Been Me,” navigate what feel like the middle steps in the seven stages of grief: anger, bargaining, and depression. “The Only Heartbreaker,” co-written with Semisonic's Dan Wilson, dives into the overwhelming pain of being the one that can’t stop damaging a relationship. The most tragic verse comes when she realizes she’s “the water main that's burst and flooding,” but she knows to expect her supposed partner doing nothing but standing “by the window, only watching.” In the third single, “Love Me More,” which melodically could be straight from an ‘80s film car montage, Mitski begs for someone else’s love in a messy attempt to protect her from herself. Desperately trying to exist in peace, she wonders how others live with themselves when “There’s the itch / But I'm not supposed to scratch.” These two songs, listed consecutively on the tracklist, acknowledge the ways Mitski messed up and feels dithery, but she is once again back to regret knowing she got out of a bad situation only to be immediately replaced in “Should’ve Been Me.” Only after becoming more grounded does she realize that, in addition to losing a partner, she lost herself and relationships with people that cared about her. The pacing of drums and strumming of guitars are complimented by the tinkering of percussion and the slow-building synth. Though each track on the album touches on how circumstances have caused her to break, these three solidify how the most destructive part is her coming back time and time again.
Though the album examines the pieces of her that are healing, the bouncy, synth-filled closer “That’s Our Lamp” reopens the wounds. In the track, Mitski sings about the crushing, inescapable feeling of encountering mundane objects that serve as a testament to what a relationship was or could have been. She repeats, “that’s where you loved me" over a fun ‘80s techno-pop track, evoking the familiarity of the past while countering the insufferability of things all too familiar. Then, a faint but crazed cacophony of voices and the timid rumble of a passing storm flood the denseness of the album, leaving the listener with only loose ends and a nearly overwhelming quiet.
As much as Mitski and her sound have changed since 2012, one constant has been her reflections on growing up. Her break from both music and social media sparked a musical and personal evolution, paving the way for her next creative chapter. Even though Laurel Hell is more similar to Be the Cowboy than past albums, Mitski expressed her disdain toward the notion that her past work hasn’t demonstrated clear evolution because of the singer's hesitation to convey her raw thoughts and feelings in her music. This record, intentionally or not, distances itself from the ‘sad girl’ reputation Mitski’s music has — or more often than not, has been reduced to. It does not feel like a mistake that she landed on an upbeat, ‘80s-esque sound for the album after rooting her music in punk and country stylings in previous works. Even though the overwhelming intesity of her career is a major theme in Laurel Hell, Mitski has big things planned, including opening for Harry Styles' Love on Tour and headlining her own U.S. and European circuits.
In an album that revolves around self-sabotage, Mitski upholds her reputation of woeful, poetic lyricism and subtly elaborate production. Laurel Hell is a marker for where she has been, and though her success continues to grow, her road ahead will forever evolve into what she makes of it.