Mitski
The Land Is Inhospitable and So Are We
DEAD OCEANS
ABOVE THE CURRENT
There are a few things to learn about Mitski even after a cursory listen of her new album The Land Is Inhospitable and So Are We. First of all, either she’s a big fan of horror film jump scares or I was paying very little attention to the record’s intro track before she presented a wailing choir that immediately made all external distractions fall away. Second, whether or not she’s willing to embrace this title, it’s become clear that Mitski is perhaps the best country balladeer working today.
Though the genre may seem outdated to some, Mitski has churned out an album of lovesick country twangers that sound like Lee Hazlewood looking across the prairie skyline wondering where Nancy Sinatra might be hiding. Mitski, though, plays both roles with aplomb. She yearns and beckons but is ready for the call, too. Lastly—and this is somewhat related to my second point—Mitski has a lot of love to give, and it’s this idea that gives the album its radiating beauty.
“I’m Your Man” arrives as the penultimate track but is perhaps the best encapsulation of everything Mitski goes for—and achieves—on The Land Is Inhospitable. The texture of the toms sound like thunder, the rich timbre of the acoustic guitars practically tangible. “I’m sorry I’m the one who loved / No one will ever love me like you again,” she sings, before adding, “So when you leave me / I should die / I deserve it, don’t I?” The album is deeply interested in untangling the nuances and geometry of relationships, the way power dynamics shift like changing winds, the way words tip scales in imperceptible ways before the weight becomes unbearable to shoulder.
To backtrack a bit, on opener “Bug Like an Angel”—which features the aforementioned jump scare—Mitski busts out the acoustic guitar for the first of many times and invites us around the campfire. The lyrical beauty of this album unfolds in the way minute details serve as scaffolding for the construction of big ideas. These are epic tales of love and love lost—sometimes love never found—but just when you think the plot is cohering, Mitski offers an observation almost piercing in its mundanity.
On “Bug,” she sings, “There’s a bug like an angel stuck to the bottom of my glass”—but the most interesting part comes in the next phrase, when she adds, “With a little bit left.” To drink the bug-infested beverage or not. The narrator then reveals that she’s learned she’s a drinker, and that a drink can feel like family. I guess the bug is going down the hatch. Mitski invites the warped choir to emphasize this word, “family,” and the song suddenly stops being about a bug and becomes about the things we rely on when we feel lonely, and what happens if family is not that thing.
On The Land, Mitski expertly disguises big ideas in small packages and makes tidbits feel as large as the universe. It’s an album that will take an eternity to fully unpack—or at least it feels this way. Though it’s a daunting task, it’s encouraging knowing that with each listen more morsels of love leave their home and cling to us, hopefully forever.
