It’s not often that an album feels like an old friend, but Mitski’s new release ‘Be the Cowboy’ manages to do just that. From its first note to last, it’s as if Mitski is digging into our soul to carve out any emotions we didn’t think we really had. This album holds a special place in my heart for how deeply her angelic vocals and haunting lyrics resonate, and the production throughout is so uniquely crafted that it feels like each song is an abstract piece waiting for you. Because of this, yeah, some pieces are super subjective, but it has highs, lows and everything in between. Getting all Americana on you, jump on your hose as we enter Mitski’s fifth studio album.
Starting off, Geyser begins deceptively calm before it rips our hearts out and stomps on it… hard. The track opens with beautifully written lyrics (‘you’re the one I want and I’ve turned down every hand that has beckoned me to come’) accompanied by a deep, ethereal synth. It’s clear from the start that Mitski’s relationship with music is the centerpiece here. She’s torn, and the music reflects her internal conflict. As the song progresses, we’re hit with an overwhelming sonic wave as she pleas ‘though I’m a geyser, feel it bubbling from below […] hear it call to me, constantly’. Here, it’s a real boiling point of feelings. An electronic influence enters strongly and with big timpani drums driving the track forward, concluding the prog-rock track with a real sense of urgency.
Firmly in our saddles, Why Didn’t You Stop Me introduces dance-rock territory with a great “ticking” energy. Heavy synths, funky guitars, and a bassline that tips over like a wild chase paint the backdrop for a song filled with… regret? In a complex arrangement, Mitski sings, ‘I know that I ended it, but why won’t you chase after me?’ as guitars wobble, deliberately going out of key and falling off drastically. This is a real mirror to the breakdown of a relationship, and there is a bittersweet mix of longing and anger, just wrapped up in an upbeat sound.
Old Friend opens with a Zelda-like intro that pulls you into a swaying, folksy atmosphere. It’s immediately lighter, and there’s a comforting, almost nostalgic ambience to it. Mitski yearns for something simple and genuine, like meeting at the ‘blue diner’ to ‘talk about nothing’, but underneath the casual nostalgia she mentions is a real deep longing, marked by secrecy.
We’re then suddenly thrown into a completely different world with A Pearl, a track that draws from early 2000s rock. RIP ears. Mitski reflects on past traumas with gorgeous personification: ‘I fell in love with a war’. This not only highlights the intensity and the damage of a previous relationship, but also serves us with such a raw and unfiltered vocal. The sound of this whole track feels intentionally tinny, giving it a home-recorded, voice note feel, as if we’re eavesdropping on a private moment. Thematically, it’s a dangerous cycle that’s hard to get out of.
A nod to country music comes in the form of Lonesome Love. In less than two minutes, Mitski captures the apprehension that comes before a breakup. We’re getting a real idea of these niche and hyper-fixated moments adding to the overall storytelling of the release here. And as a fleeting moment of rebellion, her self-awareness reaches its peak and her game mentality really shines through in the ‘I call you to see you again, so I can win and this can finally end’ line. An honourable mention should also go to what I think is the best lyric of the year ‘nobody butters me up like you, and nobody fucks me like me’. Cuts to the core hey.
In Remember My Name, we hear heavy 90s rock, overdriven guitars and pounding drums in the dissonant production. The anger here is HOT. Mitski pleads, ‘just how many stars will I need to hang around me to finally call it heaven?’ as she battles with the idea of being remembered. In a bid to show significance, this one is a real angry cry for recognition in a world where life’s pressures and achievements feel overwhelming. It’s a gut-wrenching moment in the album, especially with the slapped-back, reverbified vocals that feel like they’re echoing through the an empty space.
For want of better words, Me and My Husband presents itself as a clumsy pop song. It almost feels like a parody of what we’ve heard – ideologically – so far. The composition feels oddly stilted and jaunty with an underlying chill. Featuring heavy organ motifs again, the track really mimics the idea of holding onto a marriage despite it doing you no good. For the sake of being loved, Mitski’s sighs through the lyrics, ‘at least in this lifetime we’re sticking together’, and I can’t help but think there is a mask-wearing feel here. It’s definitely got a vibe of convincing yourself that everything is fine when it’s really not. The real peaks and troughs of marriage.
Acting as a bit of an interlude, Come Into the Water is a smokey, mysterious track that’s drenched in religious undertones. Mistki whispers ‘you look so good, but I keep my hands ’til you come into the water’, hinting at vulnerability and the uncertainty that comes with opening up to someone. The water becomes a symbol of peace, unity, and sexual desire, but her reluctance to dive in mirrors her struggle with trusting her feelings. A real simple song that holds a lot of weight.
Commercially driven and poised-pop Nobody is an upbeat, disco-dance track full of energy and life, yet the lyrics are anything but. Morphing into different versions of herself (‘I’ve been big and small and big and small and big and small again’), Mitski really hones in on the idea of desperately wanting attention despite the Bee-Gees vibe, production breakdowns and modulations. It’s a shimmering pop song on the surface, but a lot more than just that in terms of commentary. It really has that “y’all don’t wanna hear me, you just wanna dance” vibe.
It feels like we enter a new era of the album with Pink in the Night. Suddenly everything feels more ethereal. We hear reverb-heavy guitars, 60s influence in arrangement and a heck tonne of s–p–a–c–e on what feels like a Side B to this LP. The calm before/after the storm?
In an attempt to strip away all the glossy production and red lipstick, A Horse Named Cold Air has such a haunting atmosphere. Dark, unsettling and off-key, Mitski adds so much echo to her voice that the vocals create a sense of coldness themself. Reflecting, she showcases her vocal ability through ‘I thought I’d traveled a long way but I had circled the same old sin’, but aside from this we are in the thick of it.
Playing around rhythmically once again, the welcomed Washing Machine Heart presents itself as a funk-rock take on clearing out the closet (or washing machine). Getting rid of past loves and trauma, Mitski is coming clean on this one, even if there are breakdowns throughout. The harsh reality of ‘why not me?’ circles in the outro as negative energy shifts, but the song ultimately spins in circles much like a washing machine cycle.
In Blue Light, we’re brought back down with a lonely orchestral ballad. Mitski starts off humorously by singing ‘somebody kiss me, I’m going crazy’, but as the track progresses, we realise that it’s actually a detachment from the carefree nature she starts with. The blue light here feels like both an emergency response and a symbol of isolation – as if she is wanting to be saved but doesn’t know what from.
But then the final track, Two Slow Dancers, is a real melancholic moment on the album. Mitski reflects on the failed new beginnings of a once-passionate connection, singing, ‘does it smell like a school gymnasium in here? […] it’s funny how they’re all the same’ to draw comparisons to that “same old” feeling. The regret and longing for what once was is so poignant on this ending track. String sections mirrors the crying-like atmosphere, but the grounding harsh reality of the last line ‘but as it is, and it is’ really is the tear jerker of this album.
Simply, this is an album that blends everything. It is a 101 on “How to do Genre” Raw, gritty emotions partner with soft, spoken vocals and beautiful production to create mini-songs that fit together like every piece of a puzzle. The freeing, not being tied down “cowboy” essense of this album is so fitting, as each time I listen I find new layers of nuance. It’s a record full of love, sadness, emotional release and – for many – I’m certain it’s saved lives.
Glerbie 