Album Review: Mitski - 'Nothing's About to Happen to Me'

Mitski tackles familiar themes here, waxing existential and self-deprecating, while simultaneously refracting light off of human relationships like a disco ball in a Broadway production of a country and western dance hall with Victorian costuming. 2026’s Nothing’s About to Happen to Me feels both very familiar for fans of her work and yet seems to cut deeper both lyrically and sonically than some of her past albums. As always, the complete thematic integrity of the album as a whole stands out as an emotionally and intellectually mature contrast to the hot-take singularity of the streaming world we mostly live in now. I appreciate this about past Mitski albums and she doesn’t disappoint here, weaving soft ballads like “If I Leave” together with jaunty earworms like “Where’s My Phone” to create a multi-act narrative that is greater than the sum of its parts.

The opening track, “In a Lake” dichotomizes rural and urban life by looking inward at self-identity and also outward at how we are perceived by our communities. I was reminded here of an interesting philosophical argument that goes something like: there are an infinite number of versions of you that exist within the minds of each of the people you meet. Mitski grasps at controlling that paradox by suggesting her own reinvention in a big city where you are new to people regularly, but highlights the trap of being known by everyone in a small town. Her observation that, in the latter, “you never get over your first love/ it’s like one brand of soap sold in town/ ‘cuz anyone you can get close to/ smells like your first time around” turns familiarity into an unnervingly subtle potential for regret. That uncomfortable uncertainty is one of the things I love most about her lyricism.

The next track, “Where’s My Phone”, resonates with a similar existential dread, like the fear gnawing at the stomach of a first-year college student at a frat party they don’t know how they ended up at. Its jaunty and upbeat drums propel it forward relentlessly, but the crescendo of distorted guitar that builds toward the end of the track reinforce the familiar chorus that echoes the title of the track. It stuck in my head both because it is incredibly catchy and also because it uses the metaphor of technological attachment to reveal anxieties about being real, present, and honest with ourselves.

“Cats” (a recurring theme in the album) moves dreamily into a pondering lullaby of whimsical pettiness that is another signature of Mitski’s brand. This semi-breakup song performs a kind of reverse gaslighting that absolutely crushes the absurdity of codependency. While playing like a slow-dance emanating from a jukebox in a lonely hole-in-the-wall, Mitski’s voice gently cradles the antagonist’s ego while simultaneously stealing the power away from the controlling egoist. It’s a masterclass in self-awareness that works like an Uno reverse card for a bad relationship.

My favorite track on the album follows; “If I Leave” has electric highs and jazzy broodings between them that enable re-listening on an endless level, yet delivers a hauntingly persistent sense of agony that makes you want to turn off the world and meditate on your own wellness. It is at once a pleading lament about loss while also a narrowly veiled projection of disdain. Mitski has explored the complexities of right and wrong in human relationships many times, but this track really seemed to distill a lot of that message down to give the listener a raw and lasting taste of the imperfections we try to hide from ourselves.

“Dead Women” plays as a little more of a straight-forward rejection of misogyny, but adds a witchy vibe and smoky orchestral whispers to create a scene presided over by ghosts of women scorned. The sheer beauty of the instrumentation in this track give it a strength that is suitable for the poignant lyrics.

Sliding effortlessly back into another lullaby, “Instead of Here” is pensive, reflective, and tragic. The strings on this track bend and warble like a beautiful birdsong and the refrain, “I won’t be here/ I’ll be where nobody can reach,” conjure a lonely conversation with death that plays out as both innocent and deeply knowing. The heart-wrenching imagery evoked in this track capture a sense of trauma that I don’t think any other artist but Mitski has quite the same capacity to convey. This one is unconditionally honest and I couldn’t help but be haunted by it.

“I’ll Change For You” follows this up by giving us a breathy and self-deprecating take on reconciliation, complete with overlaid sounds of cocktail parties and jazz lounge dynamics. There seems to be a straight-forward admission of insufficient caretaking of a relationship here, much like other Mitski tracks that have placed the singer in the role of the “bad guy,” and yet I sense in the “I’ll do anything/ for you to love me again/ If you don’t like me now/ I’ll change for you” a sense of awareness that this kind of conforming to another’s desires is a window into its own absurdity, if not a flat-out jab at codependence. A beautiful track, either way.

The wordsmithery continues in the most stylistically adventurous track on the album, “Rules,” whose name alone hints at the undertones of the previous piece. This one, however, starts with an irregular count to five that is slightly off-beat and a little jarring. It adds trumpeting and more steely string work to a lyrical composition that describes the rules of a relationship that is again shaped by the partner’s desires rather than the singer’s. It closes out with a monotonous continuation of the opening count, perhaps hinting at an unravelling of the rules described within. It’s easily the most odd-ball track here, but it serves as a memorable benchmark for the themes that run throughout the larger narrative.

“That White Cat” returns to the feline trope, but injects some punk-ish energy into the composition. An ode to the impermanence of possession, the track uses the titular cat among other links in the cat’s food chain, to substitute for a feeling of being shackled to a system that you don’t control, despite the illusion of having agency. It’s really quite brilliant in its simplicity at conveying a deeply troubling awareness of circumstance and the rebelliousness of the instrumentation and vocals also implies a juxtaposition of rejection and acceptance that left me feeling alright with my own sense of frustrations. Mitski’s ability to bring forth that dissonance is completely unique to her work and she’s really refined it here.

The penultimate track, “Charon’s Obol,” is a song of sacrifice, playing off more country tones and a background vocal choir to evoke feelings of loss and remembrance. The obvious reference to mythology in the name plays out in the vivid storytelling here, but the obol itself seems to be the sacrifice of the girl being sung about. A fantastical and surreal parable, it feels like a song that would be passed down through generations to teach and caution in the most primal terms.

Finally, Mitski gives us a perfect summation of the album’s themes in “Lightning.” She ties together the evocations of nature, relationships, regret, and longing into a package that mixes both folky verses and a soaring rock bridge with experimental sound effects and a full range of vocal range to bring the listener to a sense of rebirth, as evidenced in the lines “When I die/ could I come back as the rain/ see the world again/ to fall again” which give circularity to both the album and the experience of the storyteller.

If you are already as enamored of Mitski’s style as I am, you won’t find this album to be a huge departure. I can’t say that it necessarily breaks new ground for her, but it carries her incredible talent forward in a way that reflects an ongoing commitment to excellence that we’ve come to expect from her work. There is depth, beauty, and subtlety here that demands repeated listening and I, for one, will continue doing just that! Another masterpiece added to the now-lengthy tapestry that Mitski has woven for us: I fully recommend as one of the early contenders for best new album this year.

Rating - 4.9/5