Joshua Martin

Lana Del Rey confidently and correctly argues that "the culture is sick." What she doesn't know is that she may just be the antidote. Over the course of her shortest and most daring LP to date, she extends (and somehow improves) upon the sonic landscape and mythology that has characterized her brand. Produced by Jack Antonoff, 'Chemtrails' sees Del Rey at her most vocally experimental and arguably her most vulnerable. Whereas 'NFR!' explored America's neurosis through the prism of bad relationships and the dying embers of an America that never really was, 'Chemtrails' finds her looking back, but not backwards. She ponders the self-cannibalizing nature of fame and rejects that possibility altogether, as she does in "Dark But Just a Game," which may be her best middle finger to critics since "Money Power Glory" from 2014's 'Ultraviolence.' In 'White Dress,' she harkens back to the Lizzie Grant days, when she "felt free" and "like a god." Who could blame her? She is, as Pitchfork argued, one of America's greatest living songwriters. Few artists have inspired a following as passionately devoted as she, and far fewer have managed to enjoy critical and commercial success by rejecting many of the strictures of traditional pop radio. What's more, she has refused to pigeonhole her artistry into simple confines, curating a vision that, like Joni Mitchell before her, looks beyond the social categories (race, gender, etc.) that inform music elsewhere. She sees beyond them when many hold to them. It's an old move that would have been innocuous in the pre-woke world, but it's that commitment to uninhibited artistic exploration--the sweeping soundscapes, the wry lyrics, her deconstruction of the American dream, her interrogation of complicated reciprocal love--that positions her as one of the greatest musical artists of the contemporary era. 'Chemtrails' could easily have emerged from the sunniest hues of the early 1970s in California's Laurel Canyon (although one does note the 3 seconds of auto-tune in "Tulsa Jesus Freak"). Del Rey makes no apologies. She name-drops Joni Mitchell, Stevie Nicks, and Joan Baez. With the magisterial 'NFR!' under her belt, the move comes off more like a self-acknowledgement of her own talents instead of a superfluous self-congratulation. 'Chemtrails' is a remarkable achievement, made, according to Antonoff, in the quiet moments following the completion of 'NFR!' One could argue that it's the latter's sister record. In 2019, Del Rey unpacked the chaos of the United States, synthesizing the uncertainty, frustration, apathy, and incredulousness into a sonic and lyrical arc that was northing short of anthemic. Here, she shifts geographically to the midwest, and with that pivot, she relies on sparse instrumentation to complement her introspection. There's defiance in those internal explorations, and a wanderlust, too. That tension guides us along. A stunning cover replete with layered harmonies, "For Free" (a Joni Mitchell original) thematically honors the album's opening song, and with that it brings us full circle. "Who is Lana Del Rey," critics have asked since her debut a decade ago. Is she manufactured? A hoax? Is she even serious? Come now. 'Chemtrails' gives us the answer: Lana Del Rey is whoever she wants to be. "It's dark but just a game."