SOS Deluxe: Lana 

Artist: SZA

Genre: R&B/POP

Release Date: December the 20th, 2024

Rating: 8.4

Opening Statement: 

As I pressed start with a heavy heart—because most "deluxe" versions of albums are often just tasteless additions—I exhaled and inhaled, sometimes consecutively and sometimes intermittently, as SZA's every breath permeated my restless heart, guiding it back to sanity.

SZA’s latest, Lana, is a delightful surprise that fits snugly between the frosty allure of CTRL and the chart-topping swagger of SOS—but, honestly, it might just be the best of the bunch. This isn’t just another SOS Deluxe edition; it’s a complete overhaul, a reinvention that delivers a smooth, cohesive set of tracks you’ll actually want to play on repeat. Let’s call it what it is: SZA’s third album, and it’s ready for your playlist. No more, no less.

Imagine this: It’s Christmas Eve. While you’re gorging on fruitcake and dodging awkward family conversations, some girl you vaguely remember from high school is locked away in her bedroom, texting furiously in a mad, emotional outpouring. Thirteen green bubbles light up your screen, all leading to a single declaration: “My turn, mine to do the hurtin’/Your turn to bear the burden/My turn, ’cause I deserve this.” Well, hello, SZA. Lana has arrived, just in time to make you rethink your entire romantic history. The anthem? “My Turn.” It’s a revenge track so deliciously petty, it might as well be served with a side of popcorn. Less murder fantasy than Kill Bill and more like emotional surgery, it’s proof that no one quite does self-righteous vengeance like SZA.

Unlike SOS’s frantic genre-hopping frenzy (which, let’s be real, had enough surprises to give you whiplash), Lana is something more refined. It’s CTRL with a glow-up: the same intimate introspection, but with a lot less “What the hell is happening in this song?” moment. Here, the synths are warm, the tempos smooth, and the emotions are mature—no more playing the crazy ex or the girl who can’t make up her mind. Instead, SZA is a little more like the wise friend who’s seen it all, but doesn’t need to scream about it from the rooftops. If SOS felt like a mixtape on Red Bull, Lana is the playlist you put on when you want to vibe, reflect, and maybe question your life choices all at once.

Now, let’s talk about SZA’s brilliance at laying her emotional mess bare. In “Crybaby,” she doesn’t just admit her flaws—she serves them up on a silver platter, all while sounding like a sultry siren: “I know you told stories about me/Most of them awful, all of them true.” There’s no trying to act like she’s got it all together here; she’s openly saying, “Yes, I’m a hot mess, and yes, I know I’m not the easiest person to love.” And you know what? It’s refreshing. There’s no “I’m an emotional badass and everyone else just doesn’t get me” crap. No, SZA owns her emotional chaos and lets us into it without pretending she’s anything other than a complicated human being. 

Then, there’s Lana’s softer side, where things start to feel… dare I say it… hopeful? Tracks like “Diamond Boy (DTM)” and “Another Life” flirt with new love and moving on, but with a grace that would make your cynicism buckle. “Another Life” hits hard with a bittersweet acceptance of fate, but it’s generous—a breakup song with more warmth than you’d expect from the queen of self-destructive love songs. “I don’t care who you marry/Mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine/Maybe in another life” is basically the opposite of a breakup revenge track—it’s the “let it go and hope they’re happy” anthem, but still wrapped in a little of that SZA brand of possessive longing.

What makes Lana so intoxicating is its ability to blend experimental elements with mainstream R&B so seamlessly that you’ll never feel lost, even when she’s playing with genres you didn’t expect. The track “Saturn” draws on the quirky synths of Plantasia (yes, Mort Garson's Plantasia), turning the song into an astral trip that feels equal parts eerie and mesmerizing. Meanwhile, “BMF” takes a cheeky detour through The Girl From Ipanema before returning to a smooth TikTok-pop vibe, proving that SZA can casually throw in a bossa nova interpolation and still make it sound like she invented it. Lana is like a R&B mixtape with a PhD in cool.

And then, there’s “Kitchen”—a song that might just be SZA’s most luminous yet. Reworking the Isley Brothers’ Voyage to Atlantis, she turns it into a delicate indie ballad that feels like something Alvvays would release if they had a soul-crushing breakup and were also a little bit in love with astrology. The soft, hazy atmosphere is made for late-night thinking, and SZA’s voice feels like a warm, comforting hug as she gently croons about love, longing, and life’s messy, beautiful simplicity.

But what might truly be the most “SZA” moment on Lana is “Drive,” where she peels back her own emotional layers like an onion, revealing the layers of self-doubt, existential dread, and, yes, a bit of arrogance too. Over a simple guitar, she spills her anxiety about fame and self-worth: “I keep pretending everyone’s as good as me/Shit’s so weird I cannot speak/Balled so hard, I think I peaked.” But the hook is a self-aware, self-soothing moment: “Just drivin’/Just tryna get my head right.” It’s as if, after a whole album of emotional chaos, she’s finally allowed herself to breathe—and it’s the perfect end note to this beautifully messy journey.

In the end, Lana isn’t just an album—it’s a masterclass in emotional complexity, delivered with the kind of subtle grace you can only pull off when you’re SZA. So if you’re ready for an album that is both a soft exhale and a sharp self-assessment, Lana is your new obsession. It’s the most confident and reflective SZA has ever sounded, and it's a sound that might just stick around longer than any of us expected.