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 Del Rey returning to the powerful level of song sculpting she reached on NFR!, 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 Del Rey 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. Del Rey's genre experimentation has long been a part of her sound, and it results in some of Ocean Blvd'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 Bleachers into the tune's flow. Conversely, the seven-minute "A&W" is one of Del Rey'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 Del Rey'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, Lana Del Rey has honed a style so unique she's almost a genre unto herself. Full of brilliant strides forward, Ocean Blvd is a crucial chapter in Del Rey's ongoing saga of heartbreak and enchantment.
Fred Thomas. Allmusic.com
