Lana Del Rey
could have retired after the cinematic grandeur of her 2019 high-water mark
Norman Fucking Rockwell!
That album's imaginative songwriting, finely crafted performances, and exceptional production served as a realization of the magnificence promised by earlier efforts, and the deepest look yet at
Del Rey
's stormy inner world. Subsequent albums suggested a little bit of a comedown after such heights. Both released in 2021,
Chemtrails Over the Country Club
felt like an
NFR!
bonus reel, while
Blue Banisters
played like a mixtape of solid but random song ideas. Ninth album
Did you know that there's a tunnel under Ocean Blvd
finds
returning to the powerful level of song sculpting she reached on
, and feels like a strong step forward as much as it does a worthy follow-up to her best record. The slow, lingering torch song style the singer has been perfecting since the beginning of her career shows up in fine form on the lovely, string-dazzled melancholy of the title track and the gospel choir-aided opening track, "The Grants." The tone of
Ocean Blvd
is more mature than previous albums but also more distant. The haunting music-box melody of "Paris, Texas" finds
on a solitary journey, feeling unsettled about her place in life and getting the sense that it's time to end a crumbling relationship. Much of the album hovers in this darkly dreamy mood, with lyrics sometimes circling around themes of family or long-term partnership, but usually choosing a thick atmospheric malaise over overt statements. Even the folky
Father John Misty
duet "Let the Light In" renders its open acoustic guitar chords and soft rock affectations more cloudy than crisp.
's genre experimentation has long been a part of her sound, and it results in some of
's most exciting moments as well as some of its least. She brings on producer
Jack Antonoff
's band
Bleachers
to assist with "Margaret," and the song feels flat and unfinished,
Antonoff
awkwardly trying to fit the faux-
Springsteen
grumble he uses in
into the tune's flow. Conversely, the seven-minute "A&W" is one of
's more daring and immediately mesmerizing songs, starting out as a slow-motion lament but changing lanes dramatically with a severe beat switch that comes out of nowhere. Minimal electronics build tension until the song suddenly explodes into a blur of cheerleader-chant hooks and overpowering bass. It's a career-best track that owes its excellence to
's willingness to take it somewhere wildly unexpected. Other great experiments with style are "Fishtail," which floats through wispy ambience before a trap beat drops, and the watery funk of "Peppers," which loops a sample from
Tommy Genesis
for its chorus. Now more than a decade into making music,
has honed a style so unique she's almost a genre unto herself. Full of brilliant strides forward,
is a crucial chapter in
's ongoing saga of heartbreak and enchantment. ~ Fred Thomas