On this album, Mitski crafts a deeply introspective world where love, identity, and isolation blur into one another with raw honesty.
On her eighth studio album, Nothing’s About to Happen to Me, Mitski turns the home into a haunted house, with a collection of tracks that begin with domestic calm, slowly spooling into lonely uneasiness. Being a veteran in indie music at this point, songwriter Mitski Miyawaki has broken hearts ever since her self-released debut with emotionally resonant songwriting that is as beautiful as it is self-deprecating. This honest songwriting, paired with explorations of a range of genres, from sleek pop, lo-fi grunge and more recently Americana, has meant I’m always excited to check out her releases.
Nothing’s About to Happen to Me has certainly been no exception – this release was advertised as a more lush, theatrical experience, with Mitski writing and performing as a character. This vaguely conceptual approach intrigued me, considering one of Mitski’s biggest strong points is her overwhelmingly personal touch to lyrics.
If you were only to look at the album’s streaming cover art of a storybook-like painting of a cat’s face, might give you the impression you’re in for an easy ride. However, the zoomed-out true version of the cover on the physical release reveals a fuller picture – a cat in an eerie vintage living room sits blissfully unaware of a fanged cat entering the frame, ready to strike the curled-up cat unaware. This depiction of a looming attack is a truer reflection of NATHTM’s setting and themes. Mitski positions herself as a narrator in a self-imposed domestic prison, who muses on leaving the past behind, but discovers that oppressive emotions worm their way back to her, even in isolation.
Much like the cover art initially seems like a serene image, the album’s opener In a Lake is a lush and serene production. The song explores feeling trapped living in a small town, and the suffocating social entanglements, whereas swimming in a lake, or better yet living in a big city gives the promise of endless potential. The instrumental to this track is sprawling, opening with accordion and banjo, leaning into the narrative approach, as it really sounds like the opening crawl to a musical. Listening to this track on a set of headphones with a wide soundstage really enhanced the production, the track crescendos with rich orchestration, opening the album with optimistic grandeur, which only makes the latter heartbreak more bittersweet.
The rest of the album has hints of the same dynamic orchestral palette, but not as heavily as this opening track – a real shame as it is one of the most creative songs of hers. A couple of tracks – notably Cats and Instead of Here – while great, could have benefitted from more dynamic instrumentation, as they sound a little too similar.
The following track and lead single Where’s My Phone? flips things on its head, returning to the distorted grunge sounds of Mitski’s earlier work. It’s a track with great energy and lyrical gems, the narrator this time wishing her mind “was just clear glass with nothing in my head”, vowing to stay inside until her brain fog clears. The ending reintroduces the orchestration, bringing things to an epic conclusion – Mitski has always had a talent for masterful distorted climaxes to songs.
This quiet-loud structure is also utilised on If I Leave and closer Lightning – my only wish with these climactic moments was that they could have stuck around for a few bars longer. They’re such fantastic releases of tension, but Mitski keeps the reins tight and leaves the listener wanting more – perhaps intentional but it can feel unsatisfying.
On the other hand, That White Cat is a standout moment of explosive tension – the narrator, over thundering toms and dissonant guitars, laments that a white cat has claimed the house she lives and works to maintain. This is one of many references to cats on the album, serving as a metaphor for domesticity – the narrator both admires and is frustrated by the cat’s freedom compared to hers.
I’ll Change For You is perhaps my favourite track on the album – it reads as an almost drunken confession of longing, craving companionship due to feeling shame in loneliness. The track softly grooves with a jazzy flair, with strings accompanying the soaring vocals on the back end. It’s a beautifully honest track which feels almost voyeuristic to listen to.
Aside from a couple of tracks blending into one, NATHTM is another fantastic emotional journey, and overall, I enjoyed the change in perspective and the dense themes. The wide instrumental palette was a fantastic development on her previous work; I would love to hear the orchestral sound fully realised on a future project. For anyone fans of Sufjan Stevens indie rock epic Illinoise, or the lyrically bold and honest Fetch the Bolt Cutters by Fiona Apple – you’ll love this release.
Author: Elliot, Holborn Store
