Going out with a bang: “Laurel Hell” album review

4 out of 5 stars

“Laurel Hell” stands alone. Drawing on nostalgia with the 80s synth-pop sound, the album departs from Mitski’s larger body of work, signifying a permanent shift. The risk was well-taken, and for this I give “Laurel Hell” four out of five stars.  

I’m by no means a die-hard Mitski fan, but I make it a habit to listen to as many newly released albums as I can, so when I saw the notification on Feb. 4 I had to check it out.

I’ll admit I committed a sin with my first listen — I used it as background music while I got some work done. Even then, I was stunned to stillness during standout songs such as “Love Me More” and “Heat Lightning.” 

Circling back to this infatuating concoction of an album, there was an overwhelming feeling that this was a breakup album — but not one you’d expect. She’s breaking up with her career, or at least, with how she’s been doing things thus far. 

Going off the meaning of the album title, “Laurel” indicates praise for achievement. Juxtaposing that with “Hell” represents the downfalls of that very success. It is this heaviness paired with success that moves the album forward in a back-and-forth conversation between Mitski and herself. 

Sonically, we get to hear a new side of Mitski as she tries her hand at more of a synth-y sound. The album opens with “Valentine, Texas” which sounds like the Mitski version of a Beach House song, with its explosive yet melancholic drop backing some dreamy, distant vocals.

I grappled with understanding the flow of this album. The artist specifically chooses the order of the songs, yet the order here feels arbitrary at first. She’ll start off by saying one thing, only to immediately contrast it with another in the next song. 

At the time I thought this was sloppy behavior; now I know this is exactly how someone struggling to choose their next path would be thinking. The album order mirrors that struggle perfectly.

In back-to-back tracks like “The Only Heartbreaker” and “Love Me More,” this frustration is evident. Where first she willingly fills the role of someone maintaining emotional distance to protect herself from getting hurt, she then desperately pleads for love and attention in the next song. 

Majorly contrasting lines include, “if you would just make one mistake what a relief that would be. But I think for as long as we’re together, I’ll be the only heartbreaker.” And then “love enough to fill me up, fill me up, fill me full up. I need you to love me more.” 

There is little room for bitterness, though, as “Love Me More” brings a bit of fun to this desperation. The backing track sounds like something out of a “Mario Kart” game, and brings us along as Mitski runs for her life. 

In “There’s Nothing Left Here for You” she goes back to being distant, yet genuinely screams the lines “you could touch fire, you could fly, it was your right, it was your life.” It’s an up and down roller coaster of wanting something, yet not wanting it. Over, and over, and over again. 

These lines specifically talk about the highs of commercial success, of being loved and wanted by many and all. It feels like the best thing in the world, but by the next line, things are down again, when the realization hits that it isn’t real love. 

Where many turn to Mitski for sad-girl anthems, this album surprisingly has very few. This point is driven home in the upbeat backing of songs like “Working for the Knife,” “The Only Heartbreaker,” and “Stay Soft,” which all deal with their own baggage, but in a pop-y kind of way. 

Honestly, I love it. It’s like putting on a song you know you can dance to while wiping tears out of your eyes. Each of these songs has an eclectic sound with a faster tempo to keep the momentum going. 

The best place she does this is in “Should’ve Been Me,” which is admittedly not my favorite. However, the energy here is phenomenal. It voices every unhinged thought that goes through one’s head after a breakup with repeating lines like “the girl looked just like me.”

Automatically assuming whoever comes next is just a placeholder for the “real thing” is messy, toxic, and chaotic, but she does it so well. 

Bringing it back to the context of the album, it takes on a much darker connotation, as we think of how the music industry doesn’t actually care for its artists. The song toys with the validation one feels when “you can’t have me,” all while acknowledging “I can’t give you what you need.” 

The track closes out in a celebratory manner, which is an odd little bow to tie that loaded message up in. Overall, the sound is something akin to if “Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go” had a bitter younger sister. 

The last two tracks are the real nails in the coffin for this being a goodbye album. “I Guess” sounds like a thank you letter, acknowledging the para-social relationship between Mitski and her listeners. 

She wants to grow, but there are expectations for her to stay the same, touched on earlier in the gut-wrenching “Heat Lightning.” 

“That’s Our Lamp” closes things out in a more positive light — it even uses a cowbell. The chaotic, layered vocals at the end of this track repeating “that’s where you loved me” reinforce the meaning behind those past connections, acknowledging how those moments will always be something special, even if this is the end. 

It’s like she’s telling us “we’ll always have Paris,” only it’s a lamp instead. 

Ultimately, “Laurel Hell” is a stunner of an album that I grow fondness for with every listen. Listening without this level of analysis was still profound. For the Mitski fans turned away by a new sound, listen harder. It’s still Mitski, only with new things to say. 

I hope this isn’t goodbye, and that “Laurel Hell” only signifies the end of an era. Regardless, this album will be remembered as a beautiful token of someone’s life’s work — her passion, her sorrows, and her decision to choose herself. 

Notable favorites off the album include “Heat Lightning,” “Stay Soft,” “Love Me More,” and “That’s Our Lamp.”