“The Land is Inhospitable and So Are We”: Mitski dances with angels in a Western apocalypse
The stars aligned perfectly on Feb. 4, 2022, when Mitski released her highly anticipated sixth studio album, Laurel Hell. It became the first album in her 11-year career to rocket to No. 1 on Billboard’s Top Alternative and Rock Albums charts at its debut. But, just as fast as the sky exploded with stars, those orbs came hurtling towards Earth with imminent impact. Everything in Laurel Hell indicated the singer-songwriter’s desire to quit music.
“I decided to leave the industry for however long it would take for me to get my heart and soul back,” Mitski said to NPR’s Morning Edition on Sept. 19.
The indie artist’s soul seems to have made a grueling climb out of a yearlong stint in purgatory, surging back into her body on Sept. 15 with the release of her seventh studio EP, The Land is Inhospitable and So Are We. Emblematic of a true phoenix-risen-from-the-ashes fable combined with visions of a Southern Gothic wasteland, Mitski plunges into the depths of emotional self-discovery and the beauty of finding solace in the arms of others, making for a sublime album.
Recorded in Nashville, Tennessee, at the Bomb Shelter studio, Mitski and producer Patrick Hyland took inspiration from the Southern city’s harmoniously blended music scene along with the theatrics of Spaghetti Western films to create a distinct sound of classical strings combined with swooning country twangs. The Nashville native paints an immersive and harrowing sonic desert in “I Don’t Like My Mind” through its jangly banjo and wha-wha pedal guitars wrapped within a soft looming orchestra that skips down the scale along with Mitski’s hauntingly rich voice as she monologues about a mental tug-of-war regarding traumatic memories and a desire to find peace.
Once praised by Rock and Roll Hall of Famer Iggy Pop in a BBC 6 interview as “the most advanced American songwriter I know,” Mitski is most well-known for her ability to articulate tender heart pangs of loneliness perfectly. She reaches the apex of that theme in the album’s deceptively warm eighth track, “The Frost,” where she envisions herself as the last person on Earth, saying she has “no one to tell how I’ve lost my best friend.” A soft blizzard of earnest mandolin licks contrasts against Mitski’s meltingly alto register, proving that the alternative virtuoso is worthy of Iggy Pop’s illustrious title while reassuring us that not all hope is lost as winter will shed into spring.
Mitski illustrates a cathartic journey through the long winding roads of enduring romance in the glittering organ ballad “Star.” Then, past a maelstrom of clashing symbols and swelling orchestral waves before breaking shore on the wistfully miserable isle of heartbreak in “The Deal.” Finally, she explores a messy emotional transition space in the melancholic “My Love Mine All Mine.” Unconventionally composed between the major A and A-flat keys of typical modern music, the classically trained compositionist shows us that beauty can be found in the uncharted.
Written mainly during the COVID-19 pandemic, the narratives in this new EP hold a searingly genuine message from the Japanese American artist about her resurrection and finding comfort in her skin after months of isolation and discomfort with her newfound stardom. “Stride through the house naked. Don’t even care that the curtains are open, let the darkness see me,” she purrs on the gothic and densely droning album closer, “I Love Me After You.” She’s on the rise, and she’s taking it in stride.
An admirable characteristic of the former film major’s approach to songwriting is that she does it like a meticulous playwright, designing complex characters that carry shards of her persona. In the opening track, “Bug Like An Angel,” she compares herself to a desperate alcoholic who craves human connection more than the bottle. Lamenting that “sometimes a drink feels like family” over a calm acoustic guitar when an explosive choir — a 17-person ensemble hand-selected by the songstress — suddenly exclaims “family!” in response. Her words have become gospel, and the angels echo the message.
The heavenly calls of angels in prior chorales beckon us to look up towards the vintage style, swinging folk ballad “Heaven.” Describing how although the “dark awaits” her and her newfound lover, the power of “all of our love, filling all of our room” calls a lush waltzing orchestra and a swarm of butterflies in disguise as fluttering flutes and clarinets. Ending on a resolving note, Mitski reassures us that although the land may be inhospitable, who is to say the people we find along the way can’t offer refuge?
take a listen —This article was submitted as an assignment for the Reporting Capstone Course at the University of Texas at Austin taught by professor Kevin Robbins.