Since 23 tracks apparently was not enough, American singer-songwriter SZA has issued a deluxe edition of her generational sophomore album SOS – here billed as the companion piece Lana. The 15-song release follows a slew of teases, delays and promises of music that never materialised. (For this we can thank SZA’s perfectionism and the iron grip of her manager Punch, as well as leaks, leaks, leaks.) Some listeners (i.e. me) worried prior to Lana’s release that the fever pitch of hype for the album would dull its impact; I am thrilled to report, then, that it is a worthy successor to the cultural behemoth that was SOS.

Like its parent album, Lana dwells in a doleful realm of introspection and self-searching – easy on the ears, but heavy on the heart. The crushing ‘Kitchen’ finds SZA breaking down as she makes dinner, mourning the best moments with her lover while overlooking the reality of how he mistreated her. On ‘Another Life’, she runs through the forest, each branch of each tree representing a different way things could have gone. In a time when so much is uncertain and hopeless in the world, it’s nice to have someone like SZA guide us through it.

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It’s difficult to think of anyone more qualified to be a spokesperson for modern romance than SZA.

In the process of selecting B-sides for SOS, SZA has (thankfully) lost none of the relatability or humanity that makes her writing so beloved. The fan-favourite ‘Diamond Boy (DTM)’ sees her standing at an impasse with her lover, saddled with knowledge of twinned tragedies: he is bad for her, and she loves him anyway. Candid as ever, SZA drops an aside to the listener: ‘when the d*** hit that’s just how you gotta do’. It is solidly applicable to many of the dating stories I’ve heard in the past year, but it makes one wonder: is it enough if someone ticks a few of our boxes but skates around the others? Are we willing to forgo the red flags for a taste of happiness? It’s difficult to think of anyone more qualified to be a spokesperson for modern romance than SZA.

Thrillingly, she has not lost her penchant for humour, dropping sizzling lines into the middle of emotional wrecking balls – softening the blow with sarcasm. On the otherwise contemplative ‘Drive’, she angrily berates the ‘c**-guzzlers’ bringing her spirit down; the interlude ‘Get Behind Me’ is addictive purely because of SZA’s declaration of ‘not today, Satan!’ Meanwhile, ‘What Do I Do’ hinges on a theoretically hilarious premise: SZA’s ex butt-dialling her as he gets intimate with a new girl. Ever the thought daughter, she wrings emotional turmoil out of a scenario pulled straight from a sitcom, clinging to her ex as he moves on and questioning her self-worth in the process.

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Much of Lana plays out as though the listener is sat in the backseat of SZA’s car, joining her on thrilling escapades and aimless wanders alike.

Much of Lana plays out as though the listener is sat in the backseat of SZA’s car, joining her on thrilling escapades and aimless wanders alike. ‘Chill Baby’, a chillwave Lil Yachty-produced  number, arrives cloaked in a stench of sativa, as she begs her lover to stay before he hard-rights the car off a cliff. The thrilling, ‘Girl from Ipanema’-sampling ‘BMF’ plays out like a doomed summer romance, with SZA spinning a tale of a wild LA boy ‘blowing money so fast it won’t last’ as they freewheel down Hollywood Boulevard. Even her happiest moments, it seems, are undercut by fear.

‘BMF’ is by far the brightest song in this collection, which is otherwise largely defined by SZA’s introspection – as epitomised by ‘Drive’, a minimalist sequel to SOS’ ‘Blind’. Reflecting on everything from her relationships to her fame, she drives through the darkness, ‘just trying to get my head right’ amid lonesome licks of electric guitar. SZA is no stranger to these all-consuming thoughts, as the wealth of intensely personal lyrics in her back catalogue can attest – but where she’d previously wallowed in the depths of her personal grief, these songs mark somewhat of a change for SZA. Now, she is attempting to find a way out.

As well as songs like ‘Love Me 4 Me’ and ‘My Turn’ (which, as their titles suggest, have SZA in the driver’s seat) Lana’s most forward-thinking moment is its emotional centrepiece. ‘Crybaby’, a piece that sonically resembles an unearthed R&B track from decades ago, has SZA staring into a bucket of water – reflecting on her culpability in the demise of her relationships – before dumping said bucket onto the listener: ‘I know I told stories about me / Most of them awful, all of them true / Here’s some for you’. She is wiser than offering empty ‘you, go, girl!’ self-empowerment, instead taking accountability in order to properly move forward. Where SZA usually opts to tie her hands behind her back in defeat, here she holds them up in admission – pointing them towards the light.

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If nothing else, the immaculate production would make Lana a welcome addition to any cooking playlist.

As is usually the case with deluxes, Lana is a little inferior to SOS. There is nothing here as arresting as ‘Special’ or ‘Ghost in the Machine’, nothing as sonically exotic to the SZA wheelhouse as ‘F2F’ (though the peppy ‘Scorsese Baby Daddy’ comes close), and no obvious radio hit like ‘Kill Bill’. Wisely, SZA simply doubles down on what she knows best: working through her heartbreak and disappointments with herself and the men she dates. Though this collection of songs likely won’t make it far beyond its bubble of fans, it is very much worth listening to, as SZA offers a glimpse of what might be to come: a more empowering angle on her introspection. If nothing else, the immaculate production would make Lana a welcome addition to any cooking playlist. To get the full SZA experience, you could even reminisce, cry on the kitchen floor, then write a song to get over it. She’ll be right there with you.

8/10