Lana Del Rey's latest album has memorable moments but is largely underwhelming

In mid-March, Lana Del Rey dropped her sixth studio album, “Chemtrails Over the Country Club."

The consensus? Most agree that it's a dumbed-down continuation of her 2019 hit release, “Norman Fucking Rockwell!"

In this album, produced by pop music’s frontman Jack Antonoff, Del Rey adopts an introspective approach, sharing her views on fame and her place in the musical landscape.

Many of the songs are melodically stripped down with moments of vocal experimentation. Del Rey opens the album with “White Dress,” in which she reminisces about the time before she was famous: 19-years-old and waiting tables.

She sings in a raspy, high register against a subtle production, glorifying a time pre-fame that she asserts she would go back and relive — because she felt like "a God."

The follow up to the opener, the title track, maintains a swaying tune that centers on the mundanity of American suburbia and is redolent of the sound in “Norman Fucking Rockwell!”

Del Rey evokes a state of peaceful indifference while insisting that she is neither unhinged nor unhappy, but wild. The music builds up toward the end of the song with a stream of layered vocals and then fades into a solo drum beat.

Del Rey is known for her staple artistic fetishes. Her discography can be classified as largely uniform, with the singer refining her melancholic pop sound rather than upending it.

In this particular project, the stories and settings are rather more intriguing. She exchanges the usual sunny skies of California for a venture through the Southern states of Florida, Louisiana, Nebraska and Oklahoma. She gives a shoutout to her most recent muse in the song “Tulsa Jesus Freak,” using religion to depict the eternal passion between her and her lover.

Channeling the dark, broodiness of “Ultraviolence,” she requests to be sung like a Bible hymn and repeats, “We’re white-hot forever and only God knows.”

Del Rey’s imagery of American womanhood has long persisted in her music, which leaves a bitter taste when paired with her recent controversial statements. In a letter she posted to Instagram last year, she addressed critics who accused her of glamorizing abuse in her music, but her argument got lost in the backlash she received from solely citing women of color to defend her narrative.

Her recent statements about the diversity in her album cover have reignited the dispute, a salient one to be had if Del Rey wishes to learn and grow in her pursuit to be more inclusive. But, the singer remains no less committed to her vision, further delving into the depths of her experience in love and fame.

Del Rey is very much aware of the crippling effects of fame, as she laments in “Dark But Just a Game." In her lyrics, she said, “The best ones lost their minds/So I’m not gonna change/I’ll stay the same.”

On the album standout “Wild At Heart," Del Rey sings about her relationship with stardom and the exhilaration of escapism. The track also samples melodies from her previous album, specifically the songs “Love song” and “How to disappear," tightening the knot between the two works.

The album references a number of household names with whom Del Rey either identifies with or seeks to distance herself from. “Breaking Up Slowly," which includes a striking feature from country artist Nikki Lane, tells the story of the pitiful fallout between the late country star Tammy Wynette and George Jones.

In “Dance Till We Die,” the singer finds camaraderie in her songwriting coterie: dancing with Joan Baez and defusing a house fire with Courtney Love.

The somber track is disrupted by a Madonna-esque bridge in which Del Rey recalls moving from place to place in search of love. “I’m coverin’ Joni,” Del Rey said, and proceeds to do just that in the next and final track of the album, “For Free,” which was written and released by American singer-songwriter Joni Mitchell.

Del Rey honors the original composition with beautiful harmonies by Weyes Blood and Zella Day, a thoughtful way to close out the album and tribute to one of her idols.

“Chemtrails Over The Country Club” isn’t a defining moment in Del Rey’s career, but rather a continuation of what she does best. The album channels certain sounds and storylines that call back to her previous works, a mark of an artist who knows her craft. Sure, it lacks the polish and crispness of its critically acclaimed predecessor, but it captures a longing for freedom, something everyone can identify with these days.