Something magical happens when you’re on the healing side of a broken heart. Clarity becomes possible. Closure becomes unnecessary. Anger is embraced. Revenge is considered. Grief feels everlasting. The love poured into an unworthy ex is now redirected into yourself. There’s space for the quiet moments. And wading in destructive patterns feels as soothing as taking a warm bath. Healing isn’t linear.
SZA seems to fully understand this on SOS Deluxe: LANA, the highly-anticipated deluxe of her 2022 LP SOS. The singer and songwriter is at her most self-assured here. She doesn’t seep into the anxious tendencies or self-doubt that were pervasive throughout her previous offerings. Instead, she stands firm in the confidence of knowing she’ll be ok even when things are outside of her control.
When SZA teased that the music for LANA (released on December 20) would come from a “more possible place versus a more angsty place,” that was no hyperbole. In turn, she offers 15 new tracks that chronicle the often wonky ride of choosing freedom. SZA learns that the best bet is on herself.
The primary strength of SZA’s artistry lies in brutally honest songwriting that exposes even the thoughts deemed too embarrassing and big to say aloud. But she’s brave enough to do it anyway. Those gritty and gossamer details fueled her anxiety-driven lyricism that made CTRL and SOS critically-acclaimed behemoths, swiftly transforming SZA into a superstar. On LANA, SZA proves her lyrical mastery is just as effective when she’s more assertive. The opening track “No More Hiding,” backed by acoustic guitar and flute synths, features SZA affirming the need to do some self-reflection. Her aching relatability is most potent at the end of the second verse: “Cut myself open to see what I’m made of / I guess I’m guilty of giving out fake love / I’m so fake, fuck.”
SZA’s confidence peaks on “Love Me 4 Me.” The song includes jazzy percussion (thanks to producer Nick Lee and her trusted collaborators Rob Bisel and Carter Lang) that makes SZA’s repetition of the song’s title ever so succulent, sounding like a mantra you’d sing to yourself while writing it on a post-it note. “Crybaby” carries that momentum of self-love while noting her flaws over a rosy beat (“You should really stop smokin’ them Backwoods so you can age backwards”).
Even on tracks when she’s least assured, the precision of her tonal shapeshifting is thrilling. Her breathy falsetto and nursery rhyme-inspired melodies on The Isley Brothers-sampling “Kitchen” illuminate the universal struggle of letting go of an ex: “You know that dick been good to me/You make it hard for me to choose me.” The Kendrick Lamar-assisted “30 for 30,” which samples the Switch 70’s classic “I’ll Call Your Name,” isn’t as strong as other collaborations between the pair (“Luther” being the latest hit). Instead, the song falls flat for sounding like five tracks at once, becoming hard to follow. Still, SZA’s rap prowess manages to steal the show. Her icy bars are exhilarating: “Chat, should I fold that bitch, no yoga mat?”
The album cover of SOS Deluxe: LANA.
The lyrical and vocal depths of LANA are just as colorful as the album’s inspirations. The neo-soul, woo-woo-centered philosophy of Erykah Badu’s 1997 debut Baduizm can be heard on “Saturn” and “Another Life” (Badu’s “Next Lifetime” feels like the spiritual ancestor of the latter). The poetic ramblings and emotional intimacy of Joni Mitchell’s 1971 song “River” is reflected in the vivid escapism heard on “Drive.” Its crux lies in the existential longing of “Hopin’ that someone’s missin’ me somewhere.” There’s also the relatable humor of “Scorsese Baby Daddy” that’s reminiscent of laugh-out-loud lines from Faye Webster (whose deeply unserious nature is prevalent throughout her 2021 album I Know I’m Funny, Haha). SZA aces the art of pulling from young and old references while still sounding original. Yet she’s a force all on her own.
Grammy-winning SOS starred SZA as a melodramatic protagonist who was content with hitting rock bottom—using her anxiety as a messy, yet dominant tour guide to show listeners just how low she was willing to go. (I mean, “Kill Bill” has a chorus so catchy that you almost forget it’s a song about severing an ex.) The album was the sonic representation of a crash out before the term became a meme. LANA, on the other hand, has a completely different thesis. It marks the first time listeners get a full glimpse into the singer’s mind when it’s not always doubting its instincts.
LANA is presented as another chapter of its predecessor, but it’d likely do just as well as a standalone offering. SZA’s maturation is worthy of its own story, which is even apparent in the album title—her nickname. In her journey, there’s room for the fuck-ups and makeups. The self-critique and self-possession. The vengeful thoughts (“My Turn” is a poignant ode to revenge as a form of justice) and acts of forgiveness. The album finds SZA unlocking a new superpower: pure self-reliance. By unveiling the beauty and precarity of the healing journey, she proves that it’s well worth the ride—and the wait.