Mitski, “The Land Is Inhospitable and So Are We.”

Singer-songwriter Mitski is widely regarded for her lyricism and specific musical aesthetic. The Land Is Inhospitable and So Are We, her seventh album, is an exploration of human connection and mortality, while also expanding on her skillset as an artist.

Though sometimes lumped into the “sad girl” category of pop due to her unwavering eagerness to mine the depths of emotion, she shines with her unique song arrangements, often using choirs. Producer Patrick Hyland, a long-time collaborator, also adds some unexpected twists and turns to the record.

On opener “Bug Like an Angel,” Mitski references addiction.

“As I got older, I learned that I’m a drinker/ Sometimes a drink feels like family,” she croons. This song, as of much of the album, is vulnerable and raw, allowing the deceptively minimal arrangement to both amplify and focus on Mitski’s lyrics and vocals.

“Buffalo Replaced” is a bit heavier with guitars and percussion, while “Heaven” is an irresistible ballad with a backing choir (recorded at Sunset Sound Studios in Los Angeles) with a blend of woodwinds, trumpet, swelling strings and pedal steel that was recorded at Bomb Shelter Studios in Nashville.

The latter, a blend of orchestral and country music, explores a relationship reaching its end, with Mitski finding solace in the small moments and reminders of what once was.

“Now I bend like a willow thinking of you/ Like a murmuring brook curving about you/ As I sip on the rest of the coffee you left/ A kiss left of you/ Heaven, heaven, heaven,” she sings.

She’s called this album her most “American” record to date, but it’s not just in the instruments present or the arrangements. Thematically, the album focuses on how today’s societal issues stem from the lack of empathy and care we have for ourselves and each other.

The poetically titled “The Frost” sounds like a country song, with a mandolin and electric piano, continues a narrative begun on the symphonic “When Memories Snow.” She sadistically longs for fading memories despite the pain they will inflict on her. This sentiment is also acknowledged on “I Don’t Like My Mind,” where she sings how during periods of heartache and isolation, our mind can be our own worst enemy, and to drown out the noise we turn to self-destructive behaviors.

Soft guitar strumming with bursts of electronic percussion take listeners on a midnight stroll on “The Deal.” The song switches back and forth from a Lana-De;-Rey-esque sound to emphatic pop that feels like switching from black and white to full color. Mitski yearns to be a bird watching from a perch to take away the ache of feeling deeply all of the time.

Mitski teleports us to the moon on “My Love Mine All Mine,” a slow and soothing piano ballad, figuratively looking down to Earth, contemplating on the importance of having enough love left over for ourselves.

“Star” is one of the oldest songs on the album but doesn’t feel like it, cohesively fitting in with the others. Beginning with a crunchy and then spacey synth, it gradually builds momentum and crescendo’s with singing and flow reminiscent of Lisa Gerrard’s (Dead Can Dance) work with Hans Zimmer on the “Gladiator” soundtrack. Another comparison is her own older tune “Geyser,” also used orchestral instruments to bring the audience to a different place. Thematically, it’s about moving past a connection that’s no longer physically there but is still a prominent driving force in our lives.

On “I’m Your Man,” cricket chirps, barking and screams join the choir before suddenly all coming to a resoundingly unsettling quiet.

While the first part of the album focuses on open wounds and self-loathing after the implosion of a relationship, toward the end we start to see growth and self-worth.

“Let the darkness see me/ Streets are mine, the night is mine/ All my own, how I love me after you … I’m king of all the land,” Mitski sings on album closer “I Love Me After You.”

Follow writer Vera Maksymiuk at Twitter.com/veramaksymiuk.