<span><em><span><span>- Laurel Hell, </span></span></em></span><span><span><span><span>the fifth album from acclaimed musician and performance artist Mitski, reflects on a turbulent few years. She shields herself -not by crafting fictionalised stories as in previous albums- but by turning to a genre she’s never explored before.</span></span></span></span>

<span><span><span><span>In 2018, singer-songwriter and budding rock star Mitski released </span></span></span></span><span><em><span><span>Be the Cowboy</span></span></em></span><span><span><span><span>. Not only did this album, her fourth record, receive near-universal critical acclaim, it dramatically broadened her listener base. While lots of good came from this, it also had the tragic effect of reducing the meaning behind her music to the perceived depth of the lowest common denominator. Songs about her Asian-American heritage and being </span></span></span></span><span><em><span><span>Your Best American Girl</span></span></em></span><span><span><span><span>, were discredited by her newfound detractors as basic sad girl music.&nbsp;</span></span></span></span>

<span><span><span><span>It would seem almost like the most Mitski thing the chameleon musician could do to record </span></span></span></span><span><em><span><span>Laurel Hell, </span></span></em></span><span><span><span><span>an album that reflects on the past few years of her career and life, under the guise of synth-pop. Mitski reflects on this shift in the first few moments of the record, “</span></span></span></span><span><em><span><span>Let’s step carefully into the dark / who will I become tonight? I’ll show you who my sweethearts never met</span></span></em></span><span><span>” …</span></span><span><span><span><span>and she does! Her reflection isn’t always as subtle as in </span></span></span></span><span><em><span><span>Valentine, Texas</span></span></em></span><span><span><span><span>, which populates a sleepier instrumental soundscape with pangs of synthesiser. In </span></span></span></span><span><em><span><span>Working for the Knife</span></span></em></span><span><span><span><span>, the lead single, Mitski comments, “</span></span></span></span><span><em><span><span>I used to tell stories but nobody cared for the stories I had</span></span></em></span><span><span>” </span></span><span><span><span><span>and again, “</span></span></span></span><span><em><span><span>I used to think I’d be done by twenty, now at twenty-nine, the road ahead appears the same.</span></span></em></span><span><span>” </span></span><span><span><span><span>Instead of the stories, semi-autobiographical and semi-fictionalised, </span></span></span></span><span><em><span><span>Laurel Hell </span></span></em></span><span><span><span><span>is mining raw emotion. Here, there is no </span></span></span></span><span><em><span><span>Dan the Dancer</span></span></em></span><span><span><span><span>, no </span></span></span></span><span><em><span><span>Me and My Husband</span></span></em></span><span><span><span><span>, instead it feels like Mitski is finally singing, screaming and revealing how she really feels.</span></span></span></span>

<span><span><span><span>Despite this personal intensity, outside of the singles, especially the phenomenal </span></span></span></span><span><em><span><span>The Only Heartbreaker</span></span></em></span><span><span><span><span>, at times this record</span></span></span></span><span><span> </span></span><span><span><span><span>can feel a little shy and lacking. </span></span></span></span><span><em><span><span>Everyone</span></span></em></span><span><span> </span></span><span><span><span><span>feels content to replicate the opening minutes of a </span></span></span></span><span><em><span><span>Sound of Silver </span></span></em></span><span><span><span><span>era</span></span></span></span><span><span> </span></span><span><span><strong><span>LCD Soundsystem</span></strong></span></span><span><span> </span></span><span><span><span><span>cut and it’s catchy as hell, but lacks its own character. That, as it turns out, is the risk of cutting out the theatrics of previous releases and honing in on the personal, which is the overwhelming strength of </span></span></span></span><span><em><span><span>Laurel Hell.</span></span></em></span>

<span><span><span><span>It’s a shame that at some points the instrumentation is not challenging or as interesting as that of the songs that garnered her acclaim. Ultimately, however, it’s a testament to Mitski’s songwriting capabilities that, once you stop looking for musical fireworks, </span></span></span></span><span><em><span><span>Laurel Hell </span></span></em></span><span><span><span><span>will still lleave you hanging on every word.</span></span></span></span>

<span>- Sean Tayler.</span>

<iframe style="border: 0; width: 100%; height: 120px;" src="https://bandcamp.com/EmbeddedPlayer/album=2420336668/size=large/bgcol=f…; seamless><a href="https://mitski.bandcamp.com/album/laurel-hell">Laurel Hell by Mitski</a></iframe>

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