Mitski mixes brightness and darkness in Laurel Hell

Mitski’s Laurel Hell joins the spotty subcategory of albums made to fulfil a record contract. Notorious cases include Van Morrison’s kiss-off to Bang Records in 1967 when he churned out 31 songs with titles such as “Blow in Your Nose” and “Nose in Your Blow”. But there are also outstanding pieces of work, like the off-the-cuff recording sessions done by the Miles Davis Quintet in order to leave Prestige Records in 1956, which ended up producing material for four albums.

Laurel Hell differs from these other examples. Mitski hasn’t made it as a legal obligation before leaving for another label. Indeed, she is still signed to the US indie outfit Dead Oceans, having renewed her contract last year. Rather than being a want-away release, it is actually a once-more-unto-the-breach album, recorded after the Nashville-based singer-songwriter decided to retire from the music business after a 2019 tour. “I was thinking this was the last show I would perform ever, and then I would quit and find another life,” she recently told Rolling Stone.

Feelings of exhaustion and inauthenticity were her reasons for wanting to bow out. Having begun in a DIY music scene of self-released recordings and independent venues, Mitski Miyawaki (her full name) has found the experience of success disenchanting. An emo-style cult of sadness has built up around the nuanced emotions in her songs, with fans competing to out-weep each other in response to them. TikTok has continued the trend: a viral meme last year involved people filming themselves running away from their problems to the sound of Mitski’s song “Nobody”.

Laurel Hell reverses her own decision to run away. Partly the product of necessity — she had one album left to deliver on her contract — it also marks a determination to return to the fray. Made with her regular producer Patrick Hyland, the songs exhibit a contradictory mixture of brightness and darkness, energy and despondency. Imagery of doors and new identities recurs. So does a strain of ennui. “When today is finally done, then there’s another day to come,” she sings in “Love Me More” as though inspecting an endless tour schedule.

Ominous synthesiser drones and guitar feedback cast a gothic pall over “Working For the Knife”, an account of wrong paths taken, although the song is driven forwards by a strong beat. “Everyone” also has a forceful rhythmic structure, with Mitski singing dramatically about embracing darkness while an electronic pulse builds tension. “Love Me More” animates its lyrical mood of dissatisfaction with colourful 1980s revivalism. Abba’s influence is hinted at in the vocals of “There’s Nothing Left for You”, a nod to the maestros of bittersweet pop.

Just over 30 minutes long, the album goes awry at the last with “I Guess”, a dirge about endings, and the contrived disco uplift of “That’s Our Lamp”, which makes a clumsy attempt to finish on an upbeat note. But it illustrates the urge to keep going that gives Laurel Hell its underlying sense of purpose, beyond the requirements of any contractual obligation.

★★★☆☆

‘Laurel Hell’ is released by Dead Oceans